I lost a dear friend when my father-in-law died from pancreatic cancer a year ago. His life made a lasting impression on mine.

We missed Papa at branding this year, a special day our family looks forward to each spring. It’s a formal marking of the new additions to our herd with the calves born in January and February. Our family brand is R((, which stands for Richardson Cattle Company, and it brings us together for hard work, big laughs, and long days.

In preparation for sending the herd to graze in the high country, we brand the calves to display clear ownership. Active since the mid-1800s, when brands distinguished cattle on the open range, The Colorado Brand Board considers the brand a “return address.” Brands also help monitor livestock disease and complicate the crime of cattle rustlers.

The propane heaters roar and redden the branding irons as the jobs of the day are explained to the crowd of family and friends who have come to help brand. There’s an energy in the air as young and old take their place in the straw-filled corrals: calf pushers, gate keepers, vaccinators, castrators, wrestlers, record keepers, and of course, the branders.

A calf is brought in and quickly caught and turned on its side. Our son, Life, sits at the calf’s head—and our son-in-law, Jack, holds its feet. Our daughter, Grace, 26, slips in to vaccinate the calf, careful not to stick her brother in the leg. The ear tag number is noted, and Jack calls out “bull,” which sets in motion Josh, Director of Chaffee County EMS, who carefully castrates the bull calf.

Our son, Abe, 22, navigates through with the red hot R(( and stops over the calf, placing the brand on its left flank. Life closes his eyes as smoke and the smell of burning hair and flesh flush his face—his own flank flexing an R(( tattoo as he holds the bawling calf steady. A memory from his last trip to visit our daughter Naomi, 24, stationed in Oahu as an Army nurse—Life’s tattoo matches hers.

I send Naomi a video of the moment: the mountains, the calves, and the amazing people who have come for branding day. There is a distinct void felt in her absence. That night, when she called to see how the day went, she told us that she added her name to the list of volunteers to go to Iran, if needed. “I’m not married, I don’t have kids, and I’m a great nurse. If I had my leg blown off, I’d want me as a nurse.”

Calf after calf is branded as four teams work together in the straw, manure, and smoke. Our youngest daughter, Esther, opens the gate to let each branded calf through, and I walk a group out through the barn to the pasture gate, where the mother cows are calling for them. I turn west, back into the barn—and am stopped in my tracks by the majesty of Mount Shavano framed in the huge doorway.

Two hundred and fifty calves later, the propane is turned off and the crew gathers together in the middle of the corral, wiping sweaty brows from under filthy hats. It’s past lunchtime, but the work is all done. There’s tradition waiting: chili lunch and cold Coors Banquet Beer.

But first, a circle is made as exhausted arms rest over sore shoulders.

Gratitude is given for all the hard work. Heads are bowed beneath the bluebird sky as our neighbor, Jim, now the elder of the crew in Papa’s absence, is asked to pray for lunch.

“We thank you Father…” he says, as heads nod, knowing that a mostly injury-free day of working cattle is a gift.

We picnic, relaxing on last summer’s brittle grass and enjoying the simple things in life: community, laughter, and good food. The herd sits content in the pasture. The calves rest beside their mothers—their new brands glistening in the warm spring sun.

May the impressions we make upon each other be ones we want to last for a lifetime, and beyond.

***

Thanks to Jim Canella who perfectly captured Branding Day with his lense. To see his complete photo collection of Branding Day, please visit: https://photostore.jimcannellaphotography.com/gallery/ea0b5bf2-5253-4845-b565-dc6dee084f3c/album/all

Branding Day

CALVING

lara richardson