“A horse is generally unusable if it is lame.”

Throughout decades, many horses have become lame. With numerous reasons for such issues, generally there is recovery and horses become rideable again. Often, resting a limping horse is all that’s required, because it has been overused in adverse conditions.

Riding Cody the ranch-raised speed horse on concrete at the sale barn several hours made him stiff and ouchy. Within a couple days, he walked normal and even won four horseshow races later that week.

The gray ranch-raised yearling filly, ZaneEtta, was lame in her right rear foot. Swelled such she wouldn’t put any weight on it, the filly was limping around the corral. Without treatment, in a few days she was completely sound. Evidently, ZaneEtta, caught the foot under the fence causing slight injury.

New shoes can cause horse severe lameness if the farrier does not properly place a nail. Generally, the shoe can be pulled, or just one nail removed. Most horses become completely sound even though it might take a little time for soreness to leave.

Laminitis, scientific name for founder, is a common cause of horse lameness. It has various causes, typically overconsumption of feed or water, speaking from personal experience.

The black stallion Dennis Good was foundered after drinking excess water following a show but recovered. Often foundered horses will be sound enough for use, although some remain permanently lame. Once a horse has foundered, it is easy for it to founder again.

“Rosie was most influential directing a wannabe cowboy’s involvement with horses.”

Induction of Rosie Rezac Clymer into Dodge City’s Kansas Cowboy Hall of Fame as a rancher/cattlewoman brought memories.

The first person met at the first show ever participated in was Rosie Rezac. Smiling, she proudly rode her sorrel mare Cindy in every class often taking the prize.

Young riders watched Rosie closely, anticipating her “good job” acknowledgement. Thereafter, Rosie was at all area horseshows, helping, encouraging everybody.

Rosie Clymer, Kansas Cowboy Hall of Famer

Wherever Rosie was riding so was her best friend Faye Peck. They rode in the pair race and invited young riders to be on their relay team. At an Emporia show, the cowgirls asked a wannabe to ride with their team. The foursome won and the young team member received his first blue ribbon.

Trade learned from her dad; Rosie was a skilled farrier, shoeing horses over a wide area for years.

Fate in action, Rosie started teaching in local schools. Everybody knew Miss Rezac, usually just “Rosie,” who met area rancher-farmer, Earl. Soon after, she became Mrs. Clymer, still typically “Rosie.”

Rosie and Earl were in the cattle business, farmers, known as “toughs” in the rodeo wild cow milking. Athletic Rosie roped, big Earl mugged, Rosie milked, ran, and they usually won.

Arabian horses appealed to Rosie’s giddy-up-go, although she took jovial flak from certain cowboys. Still, Rosie on her homebred Arabians beat them whatever the competition.

An excellent marketer, Rosie sold her own horses, helped others sell horses, and located suitable horses for friends to buy.

“Not more than five minutes at one evening’s cattle auction determines the total ranch income.”

For many years, calves produced annually are sold in a special fall calf sale at an area auction barn. With exception of retaining replacement heifers, all calves born in one year are sold at the same time.

Grain is pretty much essential when keeping calves for other forms of merchandizing. None is produced in this operation, and it’s quite high priced to buy.

Fortunately, the marketing method has worked out satisfactorily all things considered. Yes, there are weekly and even daily fluctuations that can influence the amount of the check received.

Of course, there’s never enough, but year in year out, money received for the calf crop has balanced out. It’s easy to get used to “high priced” calves which help pay debt principal faster.

When the market drops like the past several years, there’s hardly enough to keep up. Market rebounds in more recent times have been beneficial to black side of the ledger, creating more cattle business optimism.

It is a complicated equation when evaluating calf crop income. Of course, objective is always for the calf crop to weigh an average of more than the previous year. Likewise, goal is to always top the market in weight category.

“It’s all supposed to be done by mid-November.”

That’s what the highway construction foreman has again promised. Work will not be finished any too soon for ranchers putting up with the roadblocks that have continued for months.

Just when it seems there’s going to be reprieve different projects cut loose all at the same time.

Not mechanically minded, everything is a “bulldozer” in a wannabe cowboy’s intelligence. There are all kinds of machinery on the go. Big trucks with bigger wheels, every shape imaginable dirt mover, giant bulldozers, huge dirt haulers of every sort.

Every one going lickity-cut, must be 60 miles an hour, so it seems. Give them the right of way, even though sometimes the mind would like to dare one to see who gives first.

“No way, let ’em have the road, they’re 100 times as big and likely 1,000 times as powerful.”

To make it worse and most nerving of all is the loud always roaring engines. Never one to own or want to have a hot rod, rides with friends who had them five decades-plus ago were instantly refused.

Those agitating big screeching motors are accompanied by very loud horns of every decimal God has created. Not just one but seemingly two dozen all at the same time. Then there are backup caution whistles, sirens, beeps, whatever else they might be called.

“Getting lost is one of the most frightening experiences a person can have.”

There are worse things, but it does make certain individuals quite scared until figuring out a definite location.

Growing up in a rural community delivering groceries, homes of everybody in town were known. Every street and alley were remembered from daily travel for two decades, so wasn’t ever lost.

First time lost was after the state fair best-groomed boy contest trying to find the car in the parking lot. Details aren’t remembered, but somehow the 16-year-old country kid got back home in the same vehicle he’d come in.

Returning in the night from a Kansas Livestock Association convention at Wichita, the wrong exit was taken. Driver was lost driving who knows where until main highway was located and got back home safe again.

Judging horseshows in 20 states, many required airflights, and airports are an easy place to get lost. Being at the right takeoff gate at the right time always seemed an issue. Upon destination arrival, it was much better if driven to motel and arena by show management. Driving a rented car in big cities is proven way for a country boy to get lost.

Worst time was being lost in Boston, Mass., going over the toll bridge five times before getting to the motel. How there were enough quarters in the pocket to throw in the toll baskets could have only been God’s graces.

Returning from Seattle, Wash., the airport just couldn’t be found in the middle of the night. Calls to show managers seeking directions were no help. Eventually airport was found with a fast run to the gate just as closing.

Perry, Ga., airport is bigger than many others, always getting lost for a while. Writing down exact location where car was parked at airport relieved pressures when returning home.

Rounding up cattle in four section pastures can be intimidating for wannabe cowboys with grass and skyline in every direction. “Just keep riding and there’ll be a fence someplace.”

Even been lost in the shopping mall parking lot, but never lost permanently, although have nightmares of such.

It’s not a completely unique trait. Mazeophobia is the scientific name for the fear of being lost.

Reminded of Psalm 36:6: “God’s love in his largeness nothing gets lost permanently.”

Frank J. Buchman is a lifelong rancher from Alta Vista, a lifetime newspaper writer, syndicated national ag writer and a marketing consultant. He writes a weekly column to share A Cowboy’s Faith.

“Cow count indicated three head short as five mounted cowboys headed northeast to locate those missing.”

Within a half hour, three cowboys on horseback were together not far from the east fence just standing seemingly resting. Remaining riders soon joined the threesome to find out the bad news. Three prime age black cows raising big spring calves had been stricken dead most apparently by lightning.

It had been three days since the cows in that pasture had been counted when all were accounted for. However, that night after the herd had been checked there was a major thunder and lightning storm yielding rainfall.

Obviously, the cows were standing together with no trees or fence nearby when the lightning bolt struck them, evidently killing instantly. It would be less loss if the three cows stricken wouldn’t have been grazing side-by-side.

Their six-month-old calves would do fine without mommas and had already moved on unconcerned nonchalantly grazing. Likewise, coyotes had located the cow carcasses and consumed some of the readily available meal.

“Tis the season for sneezing, running nose, itching eyes, and congestion.”

It’s hay fever or fall allergy time, whatever the health nuisance should be labeled.

Whoever has had such issues knows they’re not any fun, yet those without the health problem just can’t understand it.

In early grade school days, their son’s itching eyes rubbed mercilessly initiated his parents to set up a doctor’s appointment.

No immediate family members had experienced such issues, so they thought it might be something serious. While that might be considered true for those suffering, the doctor pacified all with a drug prescription.

Uncertain how that little pill knew what it was supposed to do, but the troublesome problem soon disappeared.

Still every Labor Day or thereabouts, the same sneezing, running nose, itching eyes, tired feeling would come back again. Pills and then capsules became readily available at the drug store, or even on the grocery shelf.

High priced but worth it for an ailing one who got quick relief upon swallowing the over-the-counter remedy.

That went on for must be five decades when suddenly for unknown reason there was no hay fever. Evidently, old age had outgrown the allergy of younger days.

Then last year there was some sneezing and running nose in September, but nothing too bad. This year at the end of August, hay fever symptoms set in and continued to get worse and worse.

Life became what seemed almost unbearable with the fall allergy issues becoming nearly debilitating. Red bandanas were called into frequent usage wiping nose and eyes.

When working seven pastures of calves through the chute, young energetic hired cowboys couldn’t comprehend. The old wannabe was just sitting around sneezing, blowing nose, wiping eyes, holding a wet rag to his nostrils.

“Those horses as so much smarter than most people so it seems.”

That Cody, home raised gelding with owner prejudice most beautiful palomino to make Roy Rogers envious, was rambunctious today.

The 22-year-old has truly been there and done that quite well throughout the Midwest. But he was on a “high horse” such it took his rider a little while to figure out why.

Always a handful at barrel races every weekend, Cody is calm until it’s time to go through the gate and run. He’s been in thousands of rodeo arenas in his professional career and knows when it’s “giddy up and go” time.

Depending on the day, Cody sometimes walks right into the arena and tears out to beat the clock. Still other times, actually more often, the old horse gets nervous and just doesn’t want to go in.

The longer the horse and rider have been together there has become better understanding of each other. But still the horse is always smarter than his jockey.

A horse friend outside the gate to stand beside Cody makes him more relaxed before a run. If Cody doesn’t head right in, his friend’s rider just coaxes along from the left hip and in he’ll go.

“The most beautiful flower in the Sunflower State is obviously the sunflower.”

That must be true or why would the sunflower be designated the state flower of Kansas?

No debate sunflowers are pretty to look at and many roadside ditches display lots of them.

It’s October, and sunflowers are already starting to wilt after displaying their beautiful yellow blossoms of glory.

Some years ago, visiting with a county agent, he said, “Sunflower growth varies from year to year.”

Having never given it much thought earlier, and not that it really matters, but the county agent was correct. Some years sunflowers grow everywhere, and other times there aren’t very many sunflowers.

Certain people contend, “Sunflowers are just another worthless weed.” Then others insist, “Oh sunflowers are such a beautiful wildflower.”

Both are correct. Sunflowers are a weed, and sunflowers are pretty to look at. However, sunflowers are also now a profitable farm crop. Uncertain all uses for sunflowers, but a few seeds in a small sack on the candy shelf are high priced.

“Yes, we have no bananas.” “Yes, we have tomatoes.”

For some peculiar reason whenever arms and hands are overloaded with “stuff” to carry, those two comments come to mind.

“Yes, We Have No Bananas” was a major novelty song hit in 1923. It became the bestselling sheet music in American history.

The tune inspired a follow-up 1930s song “I’ve Got the Yes! We Have No Bananas Blues,” that was not so popular.

Anyway, the grocery store carryout boy’s Mom gave him a brown paper sack to take to the bank every morning. Longtime bank clerk Buddy Prater always said “Yes we have no bananas” when he opened the sack to do the bank work.

It didn’t make much sense to the grocery boy who nodded and grinned. The grocery bag with no bananas only paperwork reminded the banker of the popular song from his younger days.

Now tomatoes are very prolific on the vine in certain highly tended gardens. Feed tubs next to the tack room have tomatoes doing quite well, growing up through wire cages, too. The red fruits taste good on daily cheeseburgers.

There’s really no correlation between no bananas and lots of tomatoes. Still, it comes to mind when remembering picking tomatoes 60 years ago.

Uncle Don and Aunt Luvella always had a large garden with high production due to Luvella’s green thumb. Every October, Don and Lu went deer hunting in Wyoming. Dad and nephew were assigned their monthlong chores feeding nine staghound coyote dogs, birddog Rusty, and Snowball the mutt.

One year their garden was still producing abundantly, and nephew was assigned to “go pick the tomatoes.” A half dozen medium sized sacks were taken along to carry the tomato harvest to the grocery store.

“Grasshoppers are sure a menace jumping around when going for a morning horseback ride.”

While there have been no cautionary reports about grasshopper problems this year, there are still a lot of the “bugs.”

It’s easy to see how the thousands jumping around just in a 50-acre brome field could cause damage when multiplied.

Can’t help but think how devastating grasshoppers were in the 1870s and Dirty 30s when swarming blackened the skies.

People from the 1930s remembered swarms of grasshoppers eating entire crop fields, even farm implements and household items. The grasshoppers would eat anything.

Conventional wisdom was that grasshoppers liked salt, so they would eat wherever perspiration, sweat from livestock and people, landed.

Stan Jensen, a plant scientist, believes that there are natural fungi that control the grasshopper populations in wet years. In dry years, grasshoppers often will thrive.

Walter Schmitt remembered grasshoppers chewing wooden tongues of horse-drawn equipment to get the salt from the sweat that landed there. Others said grasshoppers chewed hoe handles.

Elroy Hoffman recalled being hit in the face by grasshoppers when he was doing tractor field work.

There were recollections of cars squishing so many grasshoppers that the roads became slick. Trains sometimes could not get up hills because the grasshoppers’ bodies “greased” the tracks.

“Make hay when the sun shines.”

Well, the prairie hay is all wrapped up in big round bales. Later than wanted and anticipated, but in the bale is better than grass standing in the pasture.

Still, earlier than decades ago when big round balers first came out and a custom operator did the hay baling. Between inclement weather and machinery breakdowns, then the native grass haying sometimes wasn’t finished until mid-September. It wasn’t of the highest protein quality but was much easier to handle than in small square bales as had been done previously.

When getting started in ranching, a three-point, seven-foot sickle mower was used on the John Deere 1020 tractor. A then brand-new John Deere side delivery rake accumulated dried grass into windrows.

A John Deere 7T (twine tie) baler dropped small square bales in the field to be loaded on the pickup. Most farmers had hayracks to load bales right from the baler, but such equipment was unavailable for a beginning rancher.

With 36 bales on the pickup driven to the barn, they had to be hand thrown and stacked in the loft. It was always hard work but more doable than for an old man a half-century later.