RIDING DRAG / HAYING TIME (BUFFALO GRASS)

The rains this spring and summer have made for good grass this year. We find ourselves gathering bales and putting them in storage instead of scrambling for hay as we have the last few years. The pastures are full of round bales scattered across the land like buffalo grazing in the evening light.

 Buffalo Grass

The round bales stand, heavy and grand,

  it’s been a good year for hay.
Up the hill I walk, to sit on my rock,
  as master of all I survey.

It occurs to me, this used to be,

  part of the open plain;
Before you and me, before cattle was king,
  the royal Buffalo reigned.

Clouds edged with light, day eases to night,

  dusk plays tricks with my eyes;
Into visions I drift, shapes start to shift,
  Night-hawks sing a lullaby.

The moon rises low, shadows come and go,

  I see shaggy beasts in the haze.
They come as I sleep, give me knowledge to keep,
  I watch them content as they graze.

They ramble on in, I call them kin,

  I awake to find them not there;
But it’s not been a dream; I still feel the steam,
  of their sacred breath in the air.

The water still flows. The wind still blows.

  The bluestem waves tall and green.
And I see them each night, when the moon is just right,
  the Buffalo of my dreams.

I breathe a prayer, while I’m standing there

  and hope it’s not too late;
To save the earth, for what it’s worth,
  or we’ll suffer the very same fate.

I’ll heed their call…Pray for us all,

  ask God “Where do we go?”
When the moon is pale, I’ll stand near the bales,
and pretend...they’re Buffalo.

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News, Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / WHAT'S GREAT ABOUT AMERICA

We had intended to have the barn painted by this time. The plan was to have a big American flag painted on the north side facing the county road as a tribute to our country. My great-nephew Brandon came to spend the summer with his Mamo Angel and work part-time on the 4DH. He was going to paint the barn and help me paint the flag. But you know what they say about best laid plans.

God made it possible for Husband to take a spill and in the ensuing doctor's appointment they found the tumor in his kidney. Surgery has gone well and though he has a long road of healing ahead things are looking up.

In a time when the news is filled with so many stories about criminal youth, I would like to share about those kind of kids who never recieve the attention they deserve. Brandon is one of those kids. He came to spend the summer doing a few chores around the ranch, do a few projects for his great-grandpa and the rest of his time would be spent having fun. We planned lots of afternoons in the pool and many sightseeing excursions.

Then Husband had surgery and great-grandpa needed more help and Brandon's part-time work turned full-time. He has helped Chief and our kids around the ranch with feeding and watering, hauling, caring for horses, cattle and pets, as well as mowing and hauling hay. He has also been working full days all week in the warehouse at Tucker Janitorial Supply. Has he complained that this was not the summer he bargained for? No.

Instead he has pitched in and done more than expected. What a truly remarkable sixteen year old! He will never get the credit he deserves. He will never be on the nightly news or make front page headlines; but he should. And so should all those other good kids out who make America Great.

This Independence Day please take the time to tell a Great Young America how proud you are of them. They are the future and salvation of this country. Thanks Brandon, for being a good example of what every kid should aspire to be!

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News  Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / DOING THE RIGHT THING

May 28, 2013

From the laundry room I heard my daughter say “Mom…Mom…I need to talk to you.” I hollered that I was doing the wash. She peaked her head in the door and I immediately knew I was about to be conned. “I had to bring a dog home Mom and I swear to you if you don’t like her I will take her back to the shelter and put her down myself. But I want you to hear her story and I want you to give her one week…just one week.”

Her job with the Vet had already garnered us a 7 toed tom cat and two Manx female cats. They went to the shelter once a month to do the put-downs. It is not a fun job, but a sometimes necessary one. Dara handled it well though you could always tell by her sad face what day they had gone. “Tell me the story first and it had better be a good one” I said.

 “Feona belonged to an 86 year old lady who had a heart attack. When the paramedics got there they locked her in the kitchen and took her owner away. No one found her for five days. Her owner passed away and her family came and that is when they found her. They all live out of state and no one wanted her so they surrendered her to the shelter. They have had her for four months and kept putting off having her put-down because she is so sweet. Mom, I had to take her. She looked at me like she knew me and she wouldn’t leave my side. So please, please, please let me keep her. I will take care of all of her expenses. Please.” The look on my daughter’s face told me that she had found that animal we all find sooner or later in our life; that one creature that belongs to us heart and soul.

“Ok…” deep breath “let’s see her.” I said. She opened the door and into the laundry room walked the biggest dog I had ever seen in my life! Feona, all 135 pounds of her, came directly at me, sat down and put her head beneath my hand and looked at me with her large, expressive eyes. “She’s a Mastiff Mom.” I shook my head and sighed. I was beaten and I knew it; but I reserved my right to say when and if she had to go. That was five years ago.

Feona lived with us, let my grandson #1, Derrick, grow up hugging her and napping on her and spent hours laying at my feet while I wrote. She moved with Dara when she got married and became the guardian of grandson #2, Nathanial, when he was born. She gave nothing but love and was loved in return. She only had one problem and that was they no one truly knew how old she was. Tell-tale signs started show and it was decided by our Vet that she had major bone degeneration.

 For the last year Dara did what she could to care for Feona. Medications worked for awhile but it became evident that they were no longer holding pain at bay. She could no longer raise her large frame from her bed without great effort and pain. And we, those who loved her could no longer make her suffer just because we were selfish and wanted her to stay in our lives.

My daughter is the strongest person I know. She waited until we were gone and took Feona to the Vet for one last visit to make sure there was nothing to be done to stop her pain. When she was told that Feona would only get worse she did the thing we all knew would have to be done and let go. She stayed by her kindred spirit’s side. She petted her and hugged her and whispered to her as her beloved friend slipped away. She did this alone. She did it though a part of her was slipping away too. She did it because it was the right thing to do.

I like to think I have raised good, strong, responsible kids who have become compassionate, loving, responsible adults. It is at moments like this that I know I have only been their keeper. That God blessed us with these incredible beings who love so deeply that they would rather tear out their own hearts than to see a creature or a family member, suffer.  We will miss you Feona; but we will miss that young girl who talked us into keeping you more.   

 

 

Feona Marie

How could I say no to that face?

She loved to ride in the truck.

 

 

Keeping a watchful eye on the kids while they played.

 

Ever tolerant of our silliness she allowed us to dress her up as a fairy princess for a pet costume contest. She won in her division and at her prize of a basket of treats before we made it home.

 

 

Grandson #1 Hoss loved hugging Feona. She was wonderful with all children.

 

 

Feona did get a little jealous when the snauzer puppy got a new bed.

 

But after a nap in it she let Chy have her new bed.

 

This is her chair but she was good about sharing.

 

 

She thought she was a lap-dog but shared her chair with PawPaw.

 

Sharing with Dara, Chy and Rufus.

At 135 pounds she was still intimidated by Rufus who weighs in at 9 pounds.

 

This is her happy face!

 

 

Here's Feona barely able to contain herself, celebrating her delight

at Dara and Ryan's engagement.

 









'Just one fry...pleeeeease...'

 



Wearing fluffy hair-clips and a big smile.

 

 

Telling Dara about her day.

 

Trick-or-treating with Hoss, Ryan and Dara. Since she was a bull-mastiff that is a tiny bull-rider on her back. Dara is dressed as a sonogram machine...that's a three-d sonogram image of grandson #2 ND, also known as Beeker. Feona was his gaurdian.

 



 





Two Cowgirls just hanging out after chores.

 

Kindred Spirits, Feona and Dara.

Friends like these come once in a lifetime.

 

 

Thank you Dara for bringing Feona into our lives.

 

And Thank you Feona, for allowing us to share your life.

 

We'll see you in the other side!

 

 

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News and  Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG - LET IT RAIN

The first foal of the year hit the ground yesterday evening with the dramatic background sound of thunder. Chief’s first night in this world was accompanied by lightning, heavy rain and a little hail. Though we hate to see a new baby out in this kind of weather his mother is not fond of being in the barn, much preferring to tough it out in the open.  So he was welcomed to the 4DH in the midst of an Oklahoma thunderstorm.

I suppose we should have been praying for clear weather but instead we were cheering for as much rain as would come down. The last few years of dry weather have left our pastures suffering. Hay comes at a premium and we find ourselves hauling it from Colorado to supplement the ever increasing lack of locally grown hay. We are thankful for a little rain and even more thankful for the kind of rain we got last night. 

We are a long way from being at normal moisture levels here in Oklahoma. Every drop that we can get we need all the way across the state. Today, while working on the tack building roof my son said “Dad, the pasture sure looks green this year.” Everyone paused to look and appreciate.

I know rain can become a problem when it comes down in torrents and floods the land. What we have needed for a very long time is a good soaking rain and we have been receiving exactly that. The thunder and lightning are just a show added to the rain for our enjoyment. We do not control the weather; not the drought or the rain. Having suffered the first, we are glad for the second as it spills down from the sky and fills our terraces, ponds and creek. Things are looking up here in North East Oklahoma.

And what about the new-baby Chief?  He spent this day splashing circles around his mother in a joyous dance that cried out “Let it rain!”

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*For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to the poetry section at AlwaysCowboy.com

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / HEN'S EGG HAIL

RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL

Hail as big as hen’s eggs sounds like pistol shots on the roof. We bail out of bed, look out the front door and know that we can do nothing for the horses or cattle in the big pastures. We fear that they will come to harm. Just as quickly as it started, the hail stops and the rain starts. Husband throws on clothes and boots and heads out with a light. I stay inside, we have both small grandsons here and I cannot leave them to go check with him. I stare out the door and wait. It seems like forever before he returns. I am not quite over this unpleasant surprise.

All is well as far as he can see in the darkness with only a flashlight. It lasted only minutes but hail that size can destroy a great deal in that amount of time. The boys slept through the whole thing; the banging of the hail on the metal roof, the two us throwing open doors and dashing about, turning on the TV for the weather alerts and tromping out and in. They do not fear the storms or the sounds associated, they are blessed with child-sleep filled only with dreams.

In the light of day we venture out and see that the worst damage has taken its toll on the garden. Holes in the two foot around squash leaves, the dipper gourd vines hang shredded along the fence and tomatoes lay on the ground. I pick them up and put them in the kitchen window to ripen. At least they will be salvaged. And at least that is the worst of it. No horses or cows permanently harmed, just frightened and maybe bruised here and there.

Oklahoma’s weather is unpredictable this time of year. For all of my life I have watched the sky for storms. They do not frighten me, but they do make me cautious. Even with all of the electronic equipment used by the weather service there are some things that cannot be predicted. No station warned us of hail yesterday; just predictions of rain and wind and yet hail fell causing us to bolt out of a sound sleep. Oh to be like the grandsons and sleep through it all.

It occurs to me that I am not afraid of bad weather because I have faith that God will protect us through all of life’s storms. He protects us though dangerous things fall all around us. It is our belief in His protection that keeps us safe. I know in my heart that the garden will recover. I know that the livestock will too. And I know that no matter what nature throws at us, be it rain or wind or hail, that we may be surprised but not fearful. That’s how it works, that faith thing, we just believe and all is well.

*For more about Debra go to the Cowboy Poetry section at AlwaysCowboy.com.



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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / Transformation

RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL

TRANSFORMATION

They say when you live with someone for a long enough period of time that you will eventually become very much alike. I have a hard time believing this as Husband and I have been married almost thirty-one years and we are really nothing alike. For example, he loves fish and I would rather go hungry than to eat fish in any form or fashion. He can watch bull-riding for hours and after three or four rides I pretty much have the idea and go on to something else. I read anything and everything in print and he considers reading (unless it is about bull-riding or horses) a huge waste of his time.

But yesterday we found common ground while out working in the yard. It seems as if flies blossomed over-night. One day we were sitting on the porch enjoying the evenings and the next flies of every type and size were tormenting us the moment we walked outdoors. Our hatred of flies is one way that we are very much alike. We detest them so much that we have actually given one another decorative fly swatters as gifts.

I have been trying to finish planting the rest of my garden and was hard at work last evening when a large, good-old-fashioned horse-fly began to torture me. It landed on the back of my knee, so I stomped my leg. It flew up and landed on my cheek so I shook my head to get it off and shimmied it off of my shoulders. Repeatedly it landed on me; first one place and then another. I shook and blew and moved around trying my best to avoid the little devil.

You know that spot on your back that you just can’t reach when it itches? In the very middle just below your shoulders and higher than the small of your back that is inaccessible no matter how you twist or turn, no matter how you contort your torso or your arms. That is where it landed next and to add to the aggravation, it began to bite me! To have a horse-fly biting with all its might just out of reach adds injury to insult! I twisted, I turned, I hopped about and I shook some more, all to no avail.

Some of you know that I have hair that goes down below my pockets. As a rule, when I am working outside I keep it in a long braid. This braid was hanging over the front of my right shoulder, and without thinking I grabbed it and slapped it over my shoulder hitting that unreachable spot on my back. I knocked the fly to the ground where I was able to give it a good stomp. “Way to go there Sheza,” quipped Husband. (Note: Sheza is my paint mare and has the longest tail of any horse on the ranch and is seldom tormented very long by any fly.)

I was about to snipe something back when it occurred to me that he was right. I have spent thirty-one years with him, but I have spent my entire fifty-five years with horses. I have become very much like them. I am a creature of habit when it comes to feeding time with two of my favourite foods being oatmeal in the mornings and corn pudding at night. I am more comfortable in a herd of like beings and I respect pecking order and age. I can carry a heavy load and I do not mind pulling my fair share. And last night I proved I can swat a fly with my ‘tail’. Looks like that old saying is true; over time we have become very much alike. I guess it could be worse and I could be more like Husband after all these years. He has a long, thick moustache and instead of a ‘tail’, I could be growing one of those instead. Thank God for small favours!

*For more about Debra go to the Cowboy Poetry section at AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at
ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News and Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

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