I posted two or three recollections like this over the years, but haven’t for a long time now. The memory of this rancher had been on my mind, and I just committed this to paper. Maybe a few of you will enjoy it.
_____________________

I was thinking about a grazing permittee that I worked with on the Rifle District of the White River National Forest. I ran the Range program there in Rifle, and generally got along very well with my permittees, except for one. Jay was an old cattleman, used to own the sale barn in Rifle, and ranched for more years than I had been alive. He pretty much had zero respect for anyone who worked for the Forest Service, and I was no exception. I readily admit that he probably forgot more about cattle than I ever knew.

His allotment, up on Coulter Mesa, was coming due for an Allotment Management Plan revision, and there were a couple issues that I felt I had to address with him. He insisted on salting on water. I tried talking to him about cattle distribution and salting away from water, both to lessen cattle impact near the stock ponds and to better use forage up higher. Jay wasn’t having it. He looked me in the eye and using his daddy voice, talked to me like I was a child. He told me that cattle liked to go to water, then go lick salt. I actually knew that, but that neither helps distribution, or cattle impact in a small area. That, however was our relationship.

I told you his allotment was up on Coulter Mesa, above Rifle. He came to me wanting materials to replace a fence on his allotment. I agreed to go with him to look at the fence. He said he had horses at the cow camp, and that I could meet him there and we would ride out together.

It happens that the fence was down off the top of the mesa. We dropped down a steep descent to the bottom (where hunters who ride around on ATVs drive the elk during hunting season), the fenceline was located there. We looked at it, calculated distance and materials necessary, and began our climb back up to the top. I was leading. I had traversed only about a quarter of a mile up the slope, when I felt my horse’s chest heaving from the steep climb. I turned him sideways on the slope, pulled him up, and let him blow to catch his breath and bring his heart rate back down. Jay rode up beside me and pulled his horse to a stop next to me.

“These ol’ ponies need a little rest on these steep climbs, don’t they,” said Jay, and he smiled.

I thought maybe Jay expected me to ride up that steep slope like that horse was a motorcycle, and from that day forward, our relationship was different. Don’t get me wrong, we never became coffee buddies, but at least when we talked I could tell that he thought I probably had SOME brains.

I tried too. We were droughty one summer and Jay started hauling water up to metal tanks he placed by the stock ponds that were dry. Yep, helping livestock distribution. Every gallon of water a permittee hauls is a cost that erodes profit, but it was the right thing to do, I appreciated it, and told him so.

I’m sure he’s long gone now. I’m glad that we reached some sort of accord, and in fact, there came a time before I left Rifle that he was interested in semi-retiring and giving up the Forest permit. We talked quite a bit then. I wish I had known him better.

very cool story!!

You have lots of cool stories, TMats!

Thanks for sharing!

That's good stuff. The way government and citizens are supposed to cooperate. We'd all be better off if it worked that way everywhere. Thanks for sharing.

Really enjoyed that, thanks!

That was a very enjoyable read. Thank you for “putting pen to paper” and sharing that with us!