New Apprentice

Jennifer, the apprentice at the ranch, is off to a running start.

She spent her first day vaccinating sheep as they passed along the alley on their way to a haircut.

She had never touched a ewe before, much less held it in place while a needle found its mark.

Of all of the aspects of ranching, sheep remained the focus of Jennifer’s activities for the next couple of days.

When we gathered the flock to bring them to the safety of corral, we spotted some unusual, soggy mounds in the creek.

Further investigation determined that sheep don’t swim.

Especially after they fall through a deep snowdrift that had covered the creek during a storm.

The removal plan involved yellow twine, the flatbed pickup and the skid steer.

Jennifer needed to learn to drive the skid steer anyway.

Yet, no matter how many tools and horsepower we collected, somebody needed to risk the mud and sloughing wool to attach the twine to the carcasses.

Jennifer is 22 years old and has been accepted to law school.

She takes the initiative and finds solutions.

I didn’t want her future colleagues to spot her lifelong scar from the sight of skin stretched tight and toothy grins peering from under the water.

So I stepped out on to the spongy carcasses and tied the twine.

Jennifer guided them up on to the bank where we scooped each one into the bucket and loaded it on the flatbed.

We finished just minutes before my meeting in town.

I changed my boots and washed my hands three times.

With soap.

Jennifer’s next learning goal was to feed the cows and sheep using the tractor without running over any of them.

I figured our first soggy project motivated her to avoid killing any live animal.

Studies demonstrate that motivation comes from purpose, mastery and autonomy, but a few disgusting consequences can’t hurt.

This learning goal had my nerves humming.

My tractor was built in 1968. It is easy to break.

I know because I have been the cause of many of those breaks.

This was not so much a test of Jennifer’s tractor skills as a test of my teaching skills.

I must have passed the test because the tractor still runs and the livestock lived through spreading the bales.

Jennifer had never held fencing pliers in her hands so our next job was to stretch woven wire around one of my haylots.

For the past seven years, every time the sheep get out on the road, they find a way to climb into the haylot.

Not anymore.

I wanted to be absolutely sure the sheep would not crawl into the hay so I taught Jennifer how to weave yellow twine between the woven wire and barbed wire.

After all, now that my neighbors won’t need to call to say my sheep are in the hay, they will have more free time than ever.

I don’t want them to spend it checking the obituaries because they can’t spot yellow twine on my fences.

Next, Jennifer advanced from livestock care to wildlife control.

I thought my spare house was uninhabited, but Jennifer now has a trapline running from her bedroom through the living room to the kitchen.

And she is taming one of the barn cats with the bounty from her traps.

I suspect I will learn more from Jennifer’s apprenticeship than she will learn from me.

I try to plan jobs to stretch her skills without snapping her determination, ambition and initiative.

So far, Jennifer’s inner rubber band wraps around everything the cattle, sheep and mice put in front of her.