My Trusty Green Mount

The 4-wheeler lurched then coasted to a stop.

I was a half mile from the pickup. In the middle of the pasture. The day was warm but not yet nearing the 100 degrees we had been promised. There were cows all around, but nothing too close. Now to figure out what to do.

My trusty and well loved green mount of Japanese breeding had been having issues. At first she would refuse to start without a battery charge once a month or so. Then weekly. Then she kindly started giving us warning she was having battery issues as all the lights on the dash would start blinking, we would rush her to her stable and hook her up to life support. Then finally she would blink at us briefly before dying. My husband had been stranded not far from home the week before now here I was out in the middle of the pasture.

I hated to leave her in the pasture. Cows love to chew and scratch on anything they can find, it gets hard on a 4-wheeler in otherwise, mostly, very good shape. We don’t hold this temporary sickness against her. No matter what I would be walking back to the pickup. At least I had boots on instead of my usual hot weather footwear of sandals. During my walk I called and made an appointment at the vet for my girl to get worked on. Soon she would be back to her normal dependable self. But for now I needed to figure out how to get my girl to safety. In order to get the running 4-wheeler loaded into the bed of the pickup I needed a bank, something to decrease the slope of the ramps. I am not brave enough to drive up there from ground level.

In order to get a non running 4-wheeler loaded I would need the perfect ramp. There was nothing like that in the gently rolling hills of the pasture/wheat field where she was currently stuck.

Coming back to the old girl with the pickup I thought maybe she would tow better backwards. The front wheels could turn freely to allow her to follow the pickup.

Nope. That sure didn’t work. It broke the old rope I had found amidst the other useful junk laying int he back of the pickup almost immediately.

So I hooked up to the front of the 4-wheeler.

That worked better as long as we were going straight very slowly. A few times I was able to send the pickup ahead without me, 1st gear low is a wonderful thing, as I ran back to do some steering. Then back to the pickup to get her back on the proper path. It was slow going but we made it to the gate out of the pasture. Now, even if I was unable to get her loaded, she would be safe from the cattle.

I had left my ramp at the place where I unloaded in the first place. It was a good place and I thought we would make use of it. But after the knowledge I gained from the experience of getting across the flat straight pasture it was clear that getting to that place would be impossible. It was on the other side of a steep draw with twists and turns. We could do straight. Anything else was out of the question.

Looking around, closer to the gate, I realized that the side of the road going into the draw might just be perfect. It was close, flat leading up to the possible point of loading, and close!

I unhooked the baling twine that had been serving as a tow rope, because of course baling twine! and backed the pickup up to the bank. It was great. Now I just needed to walk across the draw and get my ramp. Which was burning hot on my bare fingers. Back to the pickup for gloves, then after the ramp again. Then back to the 4-wheeler which in hind sight might have been nice to have pulled with the pickup to somewhere a bit closer to the loading site.

The kids push the 4-wheeler around all the time just for fun. I could push it the little ways across the flat to get to the ramp.

Being able to and enjoying the process are two different things. It was warming up quickly. Even flat isn’t ‘flat’. It took a while of huffing and puffing to get the 4-wheeler that short distance. Then there was the forward and back of getting it lined up just right with the ramps. My ‘perfect loading spot’ was perfect. It had a nice downhill slope to get to the slight up hill of the ramp. And if things weren’t lined up just right with the ramp before hitting that downhill it was going to be a wreck.

Finally deciding we were squarely on target I gave the past push over the edge of the hill from the handle bars, then jumped on. It was just a short hill, but it was as exciting as a roller coaster none the less. Just enough break to keep her going slow, not enough to ruin the momentum. Steering with a white knuckle grip and in a second or two the front tires were on the ramp! Where we stopped. If everything wasn’t lines up perfect I could injure my trust Japanese mount, and probably myself. So I dismounted to double check everything and pushed her the rest of the way in. It was done. She was loaded. I hadn’t died of heat stroke, or been run over. Floating high on the success I headed off through the pasture towards home. The rest of our days work would have to wait.

Sometimes I feel like an imposter. I’m not ranchy. My days are no longer spent horseback, checking cattle. Am I really even cowboy?

Then I spend a day wrangling my injured mount into the pickup like this and think I must be authentic after all. Never mind that my days are spent taking care of the cattle, working the horses, doing all the things, just usually done farmer style, instead of ranchy. Is there a farmer term alternative to ranchy? Instead of cowboy up do we farmer up? We’re definitely still getting western here sometimes. Just doing it farmer style.