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Farm & Ranch

Our Flight to Hartsel

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By Ralph Chain

I have known Jake Graham a long time. We bought a herd of Angus cows in Nebraska together and some other registered cows from Alfred Draton in the O’Neill, Nebraska, area. We also partnered on quite a few other cattle.

I knew a fellow named Ray Moore, who had a ranch in Hartsel, Colo. He was a Longhorn breeder, and I got acquainted with him. He wanted us to send some yearling steers out to Hartsel, Colo., to summer. I told Jake about the Colorado deal. Jake was interested in going in partners with us, and we would send some cattle out there to summer. We thought we should go out and look at the grass before we sent any steers there. We decided to fly to Hartsel and look at the pasture.

Jake had a good friend named Charlie Williams in Fairview. Charlie was Jake’s banker, and he flew a lot. He told Jake if he ever needed to go anywhere he knew a good charter service in Oklahoma City that would fly us. We decided to have Charlie contact this flying service in Oklahoma City, and we would fly to Hartsel, Colo. We had to fly into Colorado Springs, Colo.,  the closest airport. Hartsel was just a small place.

The charter service had an Air Commander, which is a twin-engine plane. Jake thought that this was what we would be flying to Colorado Springs in. We met at the Fairview Airport early one morning, and we waited around there for a short while. Soon this little airplane came in, actually, it was a fair-size airplane, but it wasn’t a twin engine: it was a single engine Air Commander. It was a pretty nice airplane. We didn’t have any second thoughts. We got on board. There was a young kid flying it, and come to find out, he had just got out of the Air Force the day before and was used to flying jets. I think this was on a Monday morning, and he had applied for a job flying charter service for this company in Oklahoma City. This was his first job.

Somewhere in western Kansas he got to fooling with the radio. We found out that we didn’t have any radio contact with anybody. We couldn’t talk to anyone at the towers or anywhere, but this kid said, “We’ll be all right.” I said, “How are you going to let them know when we get to Colorado Springs that we want to land?” And he said, “Well, there is a procedure that we can do to let the tower know that we want to come in for a landing.” So, we finally arrived at Colorado Springs and sure enough he flew over the tower and gave some sort of signal, and they gave us the green light to come on in and land.

Our pilot wasn’t used to flying this sort of airplane. I was sitting in the front seat. When we came in, he landed too hard on the nose wheel and the wheel gave way, bending the propeller. It almost came back into the windshield where I was sitting. It liked to scare us to death. Here we sat in the middle of a busy airport with a busted nose wheel and a propeller bent back almost into the windshield. They came out and pulled us off of the runway with a vehicle. I told our pilot that Jake and I will just take a commercial airliner back to Oklahoma City, and somebody can meet us there. The pilot said, “There’s no need.  They’ll have to fly out to pick me up, and you might as well ride back with us. There’s no need spending money for tickets.”

We had kind of mixed emotions on whether we wanted to do that or not. Anyway, he said, “Why don’t you go on out and do what you have to do and call me at the office, and I’ll see what they want to do. I’m sure they’ll send a plane out, and you might as well ride back with us.”

We rented a car and drove to Hartsel, which is probably 50 miles or so, I don’t remember exactly. We got there and looked at the pasture. I called back to the Colorado Springs Airport and got a hold of this kid, our pilot. He said, “They’re going to send a plane out, and they’ll pick us up here at the airport about 3:00 p.m.” We had to hurry to get back. We just knew they were going to send that twin engine Air Commander out to pick us up.

We got back in to Colorado Springs and checked in our car and went into the terminal and waited. He said, “We’ll pick you up in front of the terminal doors there.” We walked up to the terminal and looked outside, down the runway. There was an Air Commander sitting there and Jake said, “There’s the plane we’re going to fly back in, I bet.” And I said, “Well, I hope so.” So we stood there a little bit and looked up and down the runway. Pretty soon here came this little, bitty airplane that looked like a kite. It pulled up right in front of the door and there sat our pilot, the one who had flown us out, and another kid younger than our pilot, flying the plane. They taxied right up there where we were standing and opened the door on their little ole airplane and said, “Well, are you ready?”

Jake and I kind of looked astonished. I didn’t know how in the world all four of us were going to get in that little airplane. We stammered and stuttered around there, and Jake or I said, “Well, are you sure we can all ride back in that little ole airplane?” And this kid said, “Oh yes, we’ve got plenty of room.” Well, Jake was a big guy. He probably weighed 260 pounds, and he had a big ole sheep-lined coat on. And I was pretty well dressed, as it was cold. They said, “Get in.” So there was nothing we could do but get in. They had taxied right up where we were standing, and we could hardly say we weren’t going to go. We managed to get in.

Jake got in, and he took off his big coat. I got in and sat on his lap, almost. We were crumpled up in this little Drummond Airplane. It must have been the littlest airplane they ever made. Jake still had mixed emotions and said, “Are you sure this is all right?” This kid said, “Yes, we’re all right.” We all got in this thing, and we taxied way down to the north end of the runway. We took off, but we could not get that thing off of the ground. Every time the pilot tried to get some altitude, a beeper would go off. Finally, Jake said, “Why don’t you turn around and we’ll get off.” This kid said, “No, if we can get some altitude, we’ll be okay.” We finally got enough altitude to get over the fence posts. I don’t know how far we flew at this low level, just missing the tops of the fences.

Here we were in Colorado Springs, pretty open country, and why these kids did this I’ll never know. But anyway, we finally got into the air and we were flying into the southeast. I don’t think we ever had a southeast wind before, but that day, after we flew and finally got some altitude, we were flying right into the southeast wind. I think we left Colorado Springs about 3:00, I’m not for certain. We flew and we flew and we flew. I think we could have walked faster than we were going, because here we were overloaded and flying into the wind. About 6:00 p.m. we went over Two-Buttes, Colo. It took us about two hours to get there. We could have driven in a car there faster.

Read the October issue to learn more!

Country Lifestyle

December 2017 Profile: John Jennings

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By Laci Jones

Raised under the city lights of California, John Jennings is not your typical Californian. Born in El Centro, Calif., Jennings considered himself a “redneck,” spending many days hunting and fishing on the many California golf courses in Palm Springs, Calif.

“I would get kicked out of golf courses,” he said followed by a chuckle. “The security guards would run us off, and we would go to a different one.”

He was always “tinkering” with knives, guns and other items. Jennings recalled using circular saws as a child, saying it was “second nature.” At 17 years old, he dropped out of high school and began working full-time. Like his father, Jennings worked in construction.

“I was making $500 per week 30 years ago, which was pretty good money,” Jennings explained. “I moved out to my own apartment and just started doing my thing. Looking back, I wish I had gone to school because my son’s going to Oklahoma Baptist University, and he’s got so many opportunities.”

Jennings “bounced around” from job to job, never working at the same place for more than 18 months. His career took a backseat when he was diagnosed with Idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura in his mid-20s. ITP is an auto-immune disease where the immune system sees blood platelets as foreign object.

“We were fixing to deer hunt out in the desert,” Jennings began. “I had these big ole bruises, and I didn’t think much of it.”

Jennings chalked the bruises up to clumsiness, but his wife suggested he visit the doctor to be sure. After his results came in, his doctor told him he needed to stay home, but Jennings was in denial.

“I felt 100 percent perfect. There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said. “I said, ‘No, I’m going deer hunting.’” They said, “Well, go ahead, but even a jar against a seatbelt could kill you.”

Jennings underwent many surgeries and chemotherapy treatments as well as took a daily concoction of pills to cure ITP. One chemotherapy treatment increased his appetite, causing his weight to rise to 250 pounds.

“I did this for like three years, and it finally just went away,” Jennings added. “By the grace of God, it went away.”

The southern California native said the experience changed his outlook on life. Ten years ago, Jennings and his family moved to Shawnee, Okla. He said the expense, traffic, regulations and the mounting doctor bills as well as his parents’ influenced his decision to relocate to the Sooner state.

“My parents wanted out of California 30 years ago, so they headed east on I-40 to look around,” he explained. “They originally were going to look in Arkansas, but they got stuck in a hail storm in Shawnee and stayed the night.”

Jennings said he lived in Shawnee, Okla., when he was eight years old, but moved back to California following the oil crash in the ‘80s. His parents later retired in Oklahoma.

“When I was kind of fed up with California too, my mom called and said, “There’s this really cute little house right across the street,” Jennings recalled. “It was a dump. My wife cried when she first saw it.”

Moving to Pottawatomie County allowed the California native to meet Bill Madole, a local bit and spur maker and neighbor of the Jennings family. Madole owned the land adjacent to Jennings, which overlooked the North Canadian River.

“[Madole] owns three corners of this river,” Jennings explained. “Once I found that out, I thought, “Man, I would like to hunt that.”

Jennings worked out a trade with the landowner for hunting privileges. The construction worker completed projects like fixing Madole’s roof or installing a new door. Jennings began watching Madole work and thought it would be “cool to try.”

Jennings was quickly discouraged once the talented blacksmith told him how much the equipment cost. After, he didn’t give spur making as a side-business another thought. Then things changed. Four years ago Madole was preparing to leave for the National Finals Rodeo where he had a booth.

“I said, ‘I’ll help you get ready for the NFR, and you show me how to make spurs,’” Jennings recalled. “He was sitting there, engraving while we were talking, and he said, ‘okay.’”

The apprentice was tasked with filing spur rowels, which he described as “monotonous” tasks. He continued to learn from the expert, copying his style of spur making.

“We do what is called ‘Texas-style spurs,’” Jennings explained. “The Texas-style is a bit more utilitarian than the Mexican or California-style spurs.”

The Mexican and California-style spurs are more ornate with more silverwork, and they have a larger rowel than the Texas-style, he added. The Texas-style is more subdued. Jennings said he did not experiment with other styles, contributing most of his influence from his teacher.

“I rely heavily on his style because, to me, that’s how it gets passed down,” he stated. “There’s a guy named Kevin Burns whose spurs are pretty expensive. He learned from a guy named Jerry Cates. If you look at a Burns spur, it looks a whole lot like Cates.”

Jennings said the same could be said of Billy Klapper, who learned from the “Godfather” of Texas-style spurs, Adolph Bayers.

“I remember I sold a couple pair to a guy in Stillwater, Okla., who was a trader,” he recalled. “He was carrying a pair of mine around a big spur show in Abilene, Texas. Another spur maker said, ‘Oh, you’ve got a pair of Madole spurs,’ and he said, ‘No, this is Jennings’ spurs, but he learned from Madole.’ This is how distinctive my buddy’s style is.”

He said the distinction of the spurs could be seen in the details. Many spur makers do not engrave in the steel, but Jennings and Madole make individual cuts in the steel to create a distinct design. Also, the area between the band and the shank is squared off, which requires more effort.

While he is inspired by Madole’s work, Jennings also has more resources available than his mentor had.

“I look all the time on the Internet, seeing what’s out there and getting ideas,” Jennings explained. “If [Madole] wanted to see spurs, he had to drive to Amarillo, Texas, to a show. I think it’s just easier for people to get started across the board nowadays.”

Jennings said he never thought he would pick up the art of spur making because his background did not include horsemanship. The spur maker sent a pair he was proud of to a friend, who took them to a horseman. The horseman complimented the spurs, and Jennings’ friend mentioned he does not ride horses. The horseman said, “Well, that’s kind of a fraud.”

“My take on it is the guy who builds NASCAR cars probably can’t drive them or a pilot does not work on the airplane that you’re flying across the country,” the spur maker explained. “A good horseman does not equate to being able to do silverwork and vice versa.”

Jennings said his first pair of spurs were “good” for a first pair, but overall, they are “okay.”

The spur maker has improved since then, stating a good set of spurs takes time and attention to detail. Lately, Jennings has been inspired by old-fashioned designs including the 100-year-old design, gal-leg spurs.

“The gal-leg spurs are a really old-fashioned patterned, but every guy has to draw his own,” he explained. “Every guy’s gal-leg spurs are a little bit different.”

On average, Jennings spends 20 to 100 hours on a pair of spurs. The process begins with design. His background in sculpting ceramics helped him become the spur maker he is today.

Jennings traces his new designs on paper, then copper before cutting it out. The design is traced on the steel, which is then cut with a bandsaw. Once the bands are cut, the spurs are placed in the forge until the metal is red-hot. They are then formed into the shape of a spur. Then the shank is welded to the band and filed to smooth out any indentions.

The design for the silver is planned, then cut with a small saw and soldered on the spur. Once the spur maker cleans the spur, it is ready for engraving.

“It’s like another well-known spur maker said, ‘You want to have a really nice, delicious cake,’” Jennings explained. “The metaphor is about having a real quality spur before you ever put silver or engraving on. The decoration is just that, the icing on the cake.”

Jennings said what differentiates his and Madole’s spurs from other spur makers is their spurs are sterling silver mounted while others use nickel silver. For a swan-design spur, Jennings uses 925 silver or pure silver, which is considered more malleable than other metals.

In the past four years, the spur maker has completed more than 50 projects ranging from buckles to spurs. While buckles take less time, his spurs earn Jennings more money. His spurs cost anywhere from $650 to $2,500. Jennings has also competed in spur shows, stating winning is what drives him forward.

“When I’m sitting here, thinking filing on all of these spurs sucks, I think about how I want to win,” the spur maker commented. “That’s why I do it. That’s what keeps me going.”

Jennings earned the first place prize at the Cowboy True Art Show in Wichita Falls, Texas, and plans to compete again next year.

The spur maker attributed his patience to listening to old outlaw country including Waylon Jennings and George Jones while working on projects. He is currently working on spurs featuring a horse head, which he has invested 20 hours in thus far.

Jennings still works in construction full-time. However, he said rainy days and other construction delays allow him ample time to devote to his craft.

Jennings still lives in Shawnee, Okla., with his wife, Candace, who also helps contribute to his side-business. Together, they have four children ranging from ages six to 26—Char, John, Kate and Ella.

When asked what advice he would give to a new spur maker, he referred back to the advice given by his mentor.

“[Madole] told me a while back, ‘Slow down, do a nice job, which we both know that you can do,’” he recalled. “Don’t be in such a hurry.”

To order, call 405-249-6920 or email [email protected].

This article originally appeared in the December 2017 issue of Oklahoma Farm & Ranch. 

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Farm & Ranch

Disaster Prep

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By Barry Whitworth, DVM

Chances are that livestock producers at some time or another will be affected by a disaster such as a flood, tornado, drought or wildfire. Whatever the disaster, the challenge of any producer is to take care of their animals. Unlike small animals, farm animals tend to be large and require special needs in an emergency. For this reason, it is important to take the time to prepare a “Disaster Preparedness Plan.”

The plan will hopefully create a step-by-step set of guidelines to follow during a chaotic situation that will keep both animals and humans safe. In any disaster situation, the most important thing for a producer is to ensure above all else that his/her family and life come first. A producer should never attempt to risk his/her life or a member of their family’s life to save the life of an animal.

The start of a good disaster preparedness plan begins with evaluating what are the most likely disasters that a ranch or farm might face. For example, a ranch in the far eastern part of the state may not spend as much time with drought preparation as a ranch in the western part of the state. All producers should take the time to research history and look at weather patterns to understand the most likely disasters they could face.

Next, the producer should evaluate their premises to determine the potential risk to the animals. For example, the producer may want to remove the animals from any area that falls in a flood plain during certain times of the year or have an evacuation plan ready in case of an emergency. One should also evaluate the structures on the property. Are the barns or sheds able to withstand strong winds or not? The answer to that question will determine if the animals will be kept in a barn or turned out in a pasture during a storm.

Stacks of lumber and/or tin should be tied down. This will prevent the material from being blown around and possibly injuring an animal. Areas around a barn should be kept mowed and free of dead debris. This will help reduce risk where there is potential for a wildfire.

These questions and more need to be addressed in preparing the plan.

A disaster preparedness plan should also include animal identification. All animals need some form of identification. Brands, microchips and tattoos make excellent identifications since they are more permanent than other forms. Pictures will help identify animals. The producer should have records of ownership in case animals are lost or die in the disaster. This will be important if the producer is receiving insurance or indemnity payments.

It is important to remember that during a disaster power and utilities may be lost. A livestock owner who relies on electricity for his/her animals will need to have a backup source of power. A seven to 10-day supply of feed and water should be kept on hand. Producers may want to prepare an emergency kit. Items that might be included in the kit are halters, ropes, feed buckets, medications, first aid supplies, cleaning supplies, flashlights, batteries, cell phone, radio, feed, hay, water and generator. These are just a few things that a producer might need in an emergency.

An evacuation may need to be part of a producer’s disaster preparedness plan. Moving large herds of animals is probably not feasible. However, producers may wish to evacuate a small number of animals that have exceptional genetics. If evacuation is an option, producers will need to prearrange for an evacuation site. They will need to establish a route.

The truck should be full of gas and the trailer hitched during unfavorable conditions. Producers need to leave early. A producer should keep in mind that traffic may be increased during a disaster. The last thing a livestock owner needs is to be caught in a disaster stuck on a highway.

The producers will need to take feed and hay or prearrange for delivery to the evacuation site. If the animals are to remain on the farm, the producer will need to establish an area that he/she feels is safest depending on what the disaster is. For example, a pasture with no trees would be safer than a pasture with a few trees that animals would congregate under during a severe storm.

Once the crisis is over, the owner should be prepared to deal with injuries and dead animals. Producers need to have a carcass disposal plan ready in advance. Producers need to check with the local and state officials about the laws for disposing of animals. Producers need to realize that there is a chance that some animals will need to be euthanized. Owners need to be prepared to euthanize or contact a veterinarian to this job.

Planning how to deal with a disaster is like writing a will. Most of us think that we have plenty of time to get it done later. Unfortunately, later usually comes earlier than we like, and we get caught in an emergency with no plan. If a producer would like more information about planning for a disaster, they should go to www.prep4agthreats or contact their local county educator.

This article originally appeared in the June 2018 issue of Oklahoma Farm & Ranch. 

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Farm & Ranch

The Barn

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By Ralph Chain

In 1935 and 1936, when we used to work a lot of mules, my granddad and dad decided to build some mule barns. So, in 1935, we built the first barn where my dad lived and in 1936 we built a barn where my granddad lived. All the work on these barns was done by hand, back before we had cement mixers and the conveniences of life. The work was done by hoe or shovel.

Our neighbors, Sale and Dwight Bennett, and their dad, Claude, helped build the barns. The old man who laid the tile on the barn was Bill Hopper. He was an old bachelor and where he came from or where he went I do not know. But he stayed with my mother and father all during this time while building the west barn. It probably took two or three months to build a barn. He was particular about what he ate. My mother always had to cook for him, and she was glad to see him leave. He also laid the tile for my granddad’s barn. My grandmother cooked for him while he was building that barn.

We used the barn for mules until the late 1940s or early 1950s, when tractors took the place of our mules. I remember my dad trading a team of mules for a D John Deere tractor, which had steel wheel lugs on the back wheel, and you cranked it by hand. I think John Deere built these tractors and called them Argentine, because they were built for sale in Argentina.

When the mules left we converted the west barn. We took out the oat bins and mule stalls and moved our cattle working equipment inside the barn. Each barn had a long oat bin that ran the length of the barn. We filled these bins by scoop shovel with oats that were fed to our work mules.

We converted the east barn the same way but instead of moving our cattle working equipment I converted it to a sheep barn. We used to feed a lot of sheep, and we put the sheep feeders in the barn. Then we quit feeding sheep and the barn was converted into calving pens for our two-year-old heifers.

One day Newley, my grandson, approached me. He and Mandy Hill were getting married and he wanted to have the wedding in our converted school house. I asked him, “Why don’t you have your wedding in the barn?” He nearly fainted when I mentioned the barn. But I told him we would clean the barn up if he wanted to have the wedding there.

He needed to talk to Mandy’s mother, Glenda Hill, and see what she thought about it. She came and looked the barn over and said it if was cleaned up it would be all right. One of the biggest jobs was cleaning the hay out of the hay loft. Some of it had been there ever since the barn had been built. The only way to get it out was using pitchforks through a little door in the north part of the barn. It took three guys several months to get all the hay out of the loft.

It was amazing what they found in the hay. They found collars, harnesses and all kinds of mule and horse equipment. One of the main things they found was whiskey bottles, which had been hidden by some of the hands. They had hid them there because we didn’t believe in drinking.

Then the work started downstairs removing all the calving pens, and we poured a new cement floor. We got a steam cleaner and cleaned the walls, which helped a lot, and repaired some of the windows. On May 16, 1997, the wedding took place, and the reception was held in the hay loft. It went off great.

The barn has been used for all sorts of things from family reunions, hunting business, and special events for handicapped children. We have had people come from New York, California and even the Vice-President of Ecuador.

There is something always going on in the barn. The main event now is the Red Angus Sale that we have had for the past seven or eight years. There will be from 150 to 200 people in and out of the barn during the sale. Both barns are as good as they’ve ever been after 80 years. I don’t know of any other barns anywhere that are still standing after the horsepower went away and people starting using tractors. I can see no reason that the barns shouldn’t last another 80 years. Of course, a tornado or fire could destroy them in a matter of seconds.

Time changes things.

This article originally appeared in the September 2016 issue of Oklahoma Farm & Ranch. 

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