TexHOMEa - way from home

A little funny that aptly describes my sentiments about the weather, and kicks off this post about our time at Lake Texoma.

On a more serious note...
Ty and I have traveled quite a bit so far. We have been blessed to have the opportunity to travel to thirteen different countries, and live in two of those countries. Granted, it was over a period of six months, but it was still quite an adventure. In addition to that great period of our lives, we are also fortunate to have family that live in some pretty neat places, Colorado, Kansas, Arkansas, Texas, and New Mexico to name a few. I promise I'm not being sarcastic. The Eiffel Tower doesn't have anything on the high plains of Texas, the greenery of Arkansas, the rolling wheat fields of Kansas and the blue mountains of Colorado. Nor, does it have anything on the great time we had visiting Lake Texoma (a first for me) with Ty's Stelting grandparents, his dad, and Kim.

Our first stop of the trip was in Weatherford, Oklahoma. It's a city with a small college in central Oklahoma. It has everything you need, from great food, great company, red dirt, a Walmart, and if you're feeling really adventurous, a the Tom Stafford space museum. (Okay, I was being a little sarcastic about the museum.) We visited with Ty's grandparents while our dog, Papi did his best to drive their dog, Bella, to insanity.

Later on, we left the dogs to settle their differences while we went to Corn, Oklahoma to visit Ty's great grandma Marie. And, yes, there is actually a town named Corn. It's a bit like the towns I'm familiar with, you know, the ones that consist of a gas station, a nursing home, a few paved streets, and more churches than there are residents. I really like Weatherford and Corn, and I thing it would be pretty aMAIZEing if we could settle there one day. ;) Anyway, Grandma Marie proved great to visit as always. We visited and she showed us one of the quilts she was making. I hope one day she'll be able to make a quilt for a future mini-Stelting.

After a brief visit in Corn, we went back to Weatherford in preparation of the trip to come. We woke up early... well early to me, and left to Lake Texoma at around 9:30 in the morning.

Lake Texoma is the bit of water with the big red teardrop on it (thanks, Google), and I circled in red some of the surrounding communities we visited. The black line is the border of Texas, so, as you can see, we were literally a hop a skip and a small swim away from ten gallon hats and larger than normal things.

When we arrived, we quickly learned what real summer-time heat was. We've been fortunate up until about a couple of weeks ago to have fairly mild summer weather. Clearly, Mother Nature had different ideas for our trip. Most of the week, we had heat indices of more than 100 degrees, and the humidity was a shock, even for us Eastern Kansas folks. However, we proved the saying that "you're only bored if you choose to be" saying true. Even though it was too hot to go out on the boat or do almost anything that didn't involve ice cream and air conditioning, we found ways to entertain ourselves.

The first night, we took the golf carts out and drove around the lake, so I could see it for the first time.

Of course, what's a lake view without having your handsome man at your side?... and bug spray. Definitely can't forget about the bug spray.

Ty's dad, David, and David's girlfriend Kim, joined us that night around 7:30, so we got in some good quality time with them on the first day. We know first handedly that nothing brings people closer together than air conditioning, good food, and a game of Mexican Train.

Day 2 at the lake, we decided to see what the lake had to offer. We drove to one area where every childhood dream came true... for a price. There was a band camp going on, girls waving flags around, a huge swimming area complete with lakeside trampolines, slides, and other fun toys, as well as mini golf. Unfortunately, the lake fun area was only there for looks (for us at least) because it would have cost $10 per hour, per person! Can you say extortion? So, we chose the more economical, and actually more fun option of mini golf, another first for me!

Here's Grandma at one of the holes along with all of the men in her family: Ty, David, and Jerald.

So, I'm not going to say that it took me more than five strokes on my first hole, but I'm not going to say that it took me less than six. You figure that one out. Either way, Grandpa Stelting won by a landslide, and me.... well, I just tried to hide the tears.

Later on that day we went swimming at a FREE swimming area, which proved to be a nice, refreshing way to spend the afternoon. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy swimming in lakes up until then and I bothered Ty basically every day to go swimming with me in the evenings. (Final score, me: 2, Ty: 1)

Wednesday morning, I was fortunate to make the acquaintance of both Mike and Phyllis. Phyllis had attended Ty's and my wedding, but in all of the excitement that had ensued, I hadn't really gotten the chance to get to know her. Papi didn't get to know them either, so, our dog proceeded to embarrass us by alerting us to their terribly frightening (sarcasm again!) presence every time we saw them. Papi also showed how smart he is by barking incessantly at a ceramic cat in their house. Thank gosh he warned us, because I don't know if that fake cat would have let us escape alive. It's always the inanimate object you've gotta look out for.

However, Papi definitely didn't get his "intelligence" from his adoptive pet parents, because one of the most enjoyable days we spent, was our day in Tishomingo. (Yes, that is an actual town name.) We spent the bulk of the morning exploring the three museums that the town had to offer, much of it revolving around the Chickesaw indians.

About midway through our walk around one museum, a nice lady came to share more information about the Chickesaw. I could be wrong, but I think she does have native american heritage, and she was really eager to inform us on their history.

The gang's all here!... Too bad the selfie-stick wasn't. ;)

One of the main attractions of Tishomingo is a store named the "Pink Pistol." Miranda Lambert opened it up, because, if I'm not mistaken, Tishomingo is her home town. Personally, the store kind of creeped me out because it was kind of like a Miranda Lambert shrine mixed with a pink explosion mixed with some weird cardboard cutouts of her current ex-husband Blake Shelton. (I think they're taking those out now that the divorce is going through....)

That couch was worth about a million bucks more with Grandpa sitting on it!

The rest of Tishomingo was filled with botiques where you could find anything from hand painted signs to homemade jams. Again, air conditioning was "da real MVP."

We spent a couple of more days going to surrounding towns checking out the local shops, and even watched a movie one day. I think I might have shocked Ty's grandparents by my constant need to be doing something, so I'm sure it was a relief for them when they finally were able to sit down at the end of the day without me asking what we were going to do next!

Unfortunately, our time at Lake Texoma had to end. So we packed up our bags, squeezed them into the back of the car (how is it you always have a harder time leaving a place than you do on your way there?), and headed back to the great town of Weatherford.

We did make one pit stop along the way in Sulfur, Oklahoma. (Yes, also a real town!) It's named for the high amount of sulfur and it's rotten-egg stench. Ty halfway fulfilled some strange childhood dream of drinking the water there... until he spit it back out. Apparently it wasn't very good.

A couple of hours and a bathroom break later, we were in Weatherford for our last night: Sunday night.. aka Pizza night! We ate some Little Ceasers, and fell asleep with full bellies and happy hearts.

The next morning, we were able to visit Ty's faux grandma, Ms. Norma Hale. Her dog, Pippy, and our dog, Papi, ran around until they were sick of each other while Norma made us some iced tea, gifted us with some homemade plum jelly, and showed us around her beautiful garden. We ate some of her homegrown grapes, and said goodbye.

At last, Ty and I were on the road again. With that all-too-familiar feeling of saying goodbye to something wonderful, and wondering what the road ahead had in store for us.

Comic from: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/aa/e0/2c/aae02c986b005285de4e6a38e37087ab.jpg

The King will reply: "....

On July 1st, I ended one of the most beautiful journeys of my life.

When I began college, I thought I knew who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, and how I wanted to do it. I devised a three-four year plan that would ultimately guide me seamlessly to my goals. I wanted to be a large-animal veterinarian. When I graduated from high school, I knew a few things 1) I was academically talented, 2) I loved working on the ranch, and, 3) I loved my family. So, working as a veterinarian in a rural area seemed like next step for me.

Then I studied abroad. It made me question myself and my beliefs. It affirmed some of my values and shattered some of my ideals. I learned about hardship, consequences, prejudice, crime, love, distance, perseverance, confidence, and true friendship. I went there thinking I would see the world, and came back realizing that what I had really seen was more of my true self. And frankly, I was confused.

What started as a five-month-long quest to see the world, change my life, and expand my horizons, has turned into an eighteen month struggle of self-discovery. While I'm still passionately pursuing that struggle, there is one thing I know: my heart has never been touched more than it has been since  November.

In November, I was hired as a Residential Advisor Substitute for a company in Manhattan, Kansas that provides residential services to persons with developmental disabilities. Each person is unique in his or her own person-hood, and faces unique challenges in day-to-day life. When I first started, I didn't really know what to expect, and even going in without expectations, I was still surprised. I was surprised about the lessons I learned from working with the "disabled."

1) You can't fix people. A lot of people begin working in this field with the idea that you can somehow cure a person of their disability, or can work a miracle that will totally alter this persons life. While the love that you can share with a person that has a disability can be a life-altering miracle, you won't fix them. Why? Because they don't need to be "fixed."

2) You teach people how to treat you. When I first started working with the clients, I had to show them how I expect to be treated. For some, that was me telling them that it wasn't alright for them to punch, kick, or shove me. For others, it was making it clear that cursing wouldn't be tolerated. It was easy for me to forgive them of these things, because we are all people, and are all learning. But that led me to another thought. I need to teach all people how to treat me! Why is it so easy for me to tell a client that he or she should treat me differently, but so difficult for me to confront a supervisor about inappropriate behavior?

3) If someone is treating you poorly, it is because they don't know better. I'm guilty of taking everything personally. Whether it's a supervisor being short with me on the phone, or a teacher giving me a bad grade, or some dumb high school kid bullying me. Working with these beautiful people showed me that we are all in different stages of learning, and some people just haven't learned how to treat others.

4) You have to make yourself uncomfortable. Sometimes when I was working with very low-functioning people, I felt guilty. I felt embarrassed. I felt uncomfortable. I felt frustrated. I felt sad. I felt so many things. But these people need others to care for them, and I'm glad that I was able to contribute for only a short while. And I'm guessing that my level of discomfort was nothing compared to what some people have to endure every single day.

5) People are people. Something stressed was this phrase that goes "person first, then the disability." Let's face it, we all have disabilities. For some people, it's not knowing how to treat others politely. For others, it's being restricted by a level of physical fitness or an ailment. One of my disabilities is severe fear of judgement and a need of approval from others. So when I look at a person, whether they have a disability or not, I try to meet their soul. I try to hear their thoughts. I try to learn who they are as a person. I haven't perfected it yet, but it's something I'm working on.

6) Integrity is who you are when no one's looking. Many people act differently depending on who they're around, and I know that I have been guilty of this one too. Having integrity becomes  especially important when working with those who are blind, deaf, or mute. Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect, even if they aren't able to call you out on your actions, so you have to hold yourself accountable.

7) Love people. We have to love each other no matter our faults. And it's a lot easier to deal with someone if you have a loving heart.

I've been blessed to have had such a wonderful job. When people asked me what I do, I was always pleased with their reactions. The conversation would go something like this:
Them: Where do you work?
Me: *Insert company name here*
Them: What do you do there?
Me: I'm a residential advisor, but basically I work with people with developmental disabilities and assist them in leading their lives and learning to live an independent lifestyle.
Them: Wow that's great! or You have a great personality for that! or I couldn't do that.

And I'm still pleased by the compliments. I like to think that I worked well with the clients. I like to think that others know I have a heart for service, and the patience and love it takes to work with those who have disabilities. However, I'm saddened by the last response: "I couldn't do that." Because everyone can do that. Everyone should do that in day-to-day life. We should all freely give our services to those less fortunate. I honestly believe that God gave each of us a talent, and our talents are designed to add to a beautiful and wonderful world that we can all enjoy.

I guess I don't know how to close this, as it's difficult for me to see this particular chapter of my life end. I've made great friendships with the clients, and learned so many lessons from them. So since I'm not sure how to close this, I leave with this verse I've been thinking on:

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." 

Matthew 25:40.

16 and Pregnant

A girl's sitting in the bathroom. She's sixteen. She has hair cut into the latest style framing her face. Earlier that week she was talking with her friends about the latest celeb crush. Now she blinks her eyes several times because she can't believe what she just saw. But clear as day, there it is, those little pink lines, or the smiley face, or whatever it is that gives you an 18-life sentence of parenthood. She's scared to death. There is a small human growing inside of her body that she helped a young man create. What will her parents think? What will her boyfriend/fling/one night stand think? What will her friends think? What will her teachers in school think? What will her boss think? Will they treat her the same? Will she be able to keep a job? Will she be able to provide for the needs of a young, helpless, needy child? Will she be able to fulfill her own needs? How can she do that and finish school? Can her body handle the upcoming months? Can her mind?

A girl's sitting in the bathroom, staring at a small pregnancy test. She is pregnant.

As our country has evolved, teen pregnancy has become taboo. Think of several popular shows over the last 5-10 years: Juno, The Secret Life of the American Teenager, 16 and Pregnant, The Pregnancy Pact, Teen Mom (1 & 2) to name a few. There have been mixed reactions about these shows, however, much of what I've heard about these shows from others has been negative or downright hateful.

Now that I'm married, and out of my teen years, I've thought a lot about what it means to be pregnant. Frankly, the thought of it somehow inspires, scares, disgusts (can we just not think about the whole delivery part?), and awes me all at the same time. Even so, any child entrusted to Ty and me by God would be an absolute gift that I would cherish.

So what inspired all of this commentary? A post I saw online that went something like this:

Jane Doe: "Happy 20th birthday to me! Guess who wasn't a teenager and pregnant."

More than one of my Facebook friends made this post, especially around the time when Teen Mom was getting popular.

So I have to ask these people who condemn teen mothers:
What did you do that was so spectacular? Did you take your birth control pill at the same time every day at the risk of your health? Did you make sure to buy condoms at Walmart? Did you use mirena, or nuvaring, or whatever intrauterine device that is sure to be the topic of some type of lawsuit in a few years? Well, unless you abstained from sex until you were 20 years old, you haven't accomplished anything over a teen mother.

Teen parents have just gotten caught doing something that many other teens were doing.

Let that sink in.

In fact, teen parents have accomplished much more. They've felt and given one of God's most precious gifts: life. They've had to make decisions more difficult than many of us have dreamed of. They've been forced to consider someone's destiny other than their own. Their decisions have made them sacrifice. And, ultimately, their decisions led them to experience a parent's love from a entirely new perspective.

Is this situation ideal? I don't think so. Can it be avoided? Definitely. Do they deserve to be looked down upon/pitied/judged/one-upped/subjected to negative comments from others who also partook in teenaged sex? Absolutely not.

So next time you know of someone young who's starting a family, try to support them and encourage life, instead of demeaning it.

FOMO....

FOMO.

I hadn't heard of this abbreviation until a few weeks ago, when instead of studying for finals (as I should have been doing) I was cruising the Internet, hopping from one web-article to another, in the hopes of finding something that would spark my interest more than developmental biology had thus far. Surprisingly, it wasn't been that difficult to find something less soul crushing, which is how I landed on an article about FOMO.

Fear
Of
Missing
Out

Fear is a large part of my life. I get vaccinated because I'm afraid of contracting a deadly (preventable) disease. I wear my seat belt, because I'm afraid of being terribly injured in a car accident. I study, partially, because I am afraid of failure. I was afraid to change which career to pursue because I worried about what family would think, or whether my first degree would be a waste. While I'm convinced that I'm in many ways somewhat of an oddity, I have to wonder how many people experience the same fear-driven desires.

This distracting article was titled "7 Reasons to Say 'no' to FOMO" so I clicked on it, to learn more... and to procrastinate studying. It said that "FOMO is the leading contributor to leading an inauthentic life."

Let that sink in... "an inauthentic life." I let the article stay open on my computer for a couple of weeks while I pondered it.

And, because I'm still thinking about what it means to me personally about my life being authentic, I'm going to share the seven reasons:
1) FOMO promotes inauthenticity
2) FOMO makes you prioritize activities over people
3) FOMO is expensive
4) FOMO makes us feel not good enough
5) FOMO promotes self-destructive behavior (impulsive actions)
6) FOMO fuels Social-Media Addiction
7) FOMO is exhausting

And I'll add this eight reason:
8) FOMO promotes "the grass is greener on the other side of the fence syndrome"

Something I'm coming to realize (late, I know) is that lives are like snowflakes: no two are identical. It's ridiculous for me to look at another person and think that his or her life is somehow better than mine. As my good (but scarce) pal, Ben Franklin said, "The only things that are sure in life are death and taxes." So, if that is the case, why have we envisioned certain benchmarks that somehow make for a happy life? (Think huge wedding, marriage, babies, college, career, travel etc.) While these benchmarks are common, they are by no means unique to a happy life (I think). So instead of being worried about missing out, we should be worried about living authentically.

We should be worried about creating and sustaining meaningful relationships, improving ourselves in whichever ways we see fit, growing into more moral and kind people, and investing in a divine relationship with God. So, instead of doing something because you're afraid of missing out, or you're jealous that another person had that experience, say no to FOMO, and do something that makes you better, do something that makes you holy, do something to show other human beings that they are loved and that they are greater than FOMO.



Read the article here.

ConGRADulations!

Hey everyone, it's Ty. In this post I hope to convey to you how my graduation was the best out everyone else's. I know it was because family, even though they can be stressful, will always come through and give you more than you have ever asked for.

Friday evening, before the grad ceremonies, we had a party that was set up by Brian, Tami, and Jennifer and they did a fantastic job. We spent the evening eating great sandwiches w/ chips, pickles, and ice cream cake. There was more than enough food and friends to go around. I really enjoyed their company until they decided to point out he FLAWS on my face!!! ;) It was okay, we all can't be perfect and there was no way anyone could knock me down because I was ending the culmination of about 5 years of work, counting dual credit classes. At the end, we had finally decided that our family meshed pretty well and everything went swimmingly. One last tidbit, we owe that guy at the front front desk a debt of gratitude for going above and beyond.

Some pictures of the people we need to thank for the great party:

My Mom and step-dad Brian with me taking a wonderful picture after graduation. 

Kelsie's Mom and Dad, Jennifer and Dalton 

Kelsie and I have been at K-State, together, for two and a half years and yes, we survived living together thus far (even though it might be a toss-up who will strike first ;). We have tried our hardest, graduated with a high GPA, a lot of work experience, and trips that will leave a permanent etch within our cultural awareness and lives in general. Kelsie did a lot more than me and gained honors that made her, in my opinion, number one out everyone in her class.

Her ears were burning! Here she is afterwards in those nice shoes with the very
prestigious purple and white "cords" signifying honors.

Our family made it down for the weekend and witnessed both ceremonies...what a bunch of troopers. I told them thank you for coming because I probably would have went crazy sitting there for almost FIVE hours! All the families that sat through a ceremony should be commended because it was very long, and somewhat difficult to stay awake through. How we did it on a basically empty stomach, I will never believe. However, I think it was completely worth it because of the atmosphere of being recognized by my peers, professors, and administration made me feel recognized and the family presence afterwards made me feel blessed.

Kelsie with Grandma Hoss, she traveled down with Savannah and we are very
thankful they made it.

Kelsie, my dad David, and I all posing after graduation.

After having a famished family, still recovering from the anxiety of almost not getting the gown to Kelsie on time, we departed for supper. This is where we had no real plan and made no reservations for our very large group at Cracker Barrel. This was something I really need to think about when it comes to planning but everything went okay in the end. We had a great meal and there were no real big surprises. We had a few laughs about losing at the game that's located on every table. I assume that it is called "tee'd off" because that game can be frustrating. I think the best part was seeing everyone so happy to finally receive sustenance and go home way too full. When we got there, we had been given one more chance to sit down and talk about old times and enjoy a few more hours together.

I would also like to end on thanking everyone for the wonderful gifts and cards. They were very sweet and thoughtful. We will try and send out thank you letters soon, if you don't receive one, it probably got lost in the mail. We love you all and thank you for coming to our Graduation if you did. Lastly, I would like thank Wayne Talbot for attending and Larry and Ellen for the wonderful card.

We will try and update you on our plans with the next posts and remember that you can turn to us if you ever need any help and we will try our hardest to accommodate.

Please check out these other photos too!

Kelsie walking across the stage (without falling ;)

This picture including a very special person, Kim, she graced us with her presence
and very thankful she made it along with my Dad.

Thanks for reading!

Working Hard or Hardly Working

Since the birth of the wild, Wild West, cattlemen and their families gathered each year to work the new lot of calves. These calves range from a few weeks to months old. On May 2^nd 2015 the Hoss family and about twenty friends and neighbors gathered for the annual branding.

In the past, brandings were a small, family affair where Waldo, Margaret, their seven children, and a couple of locals would labor until the lot of calves was finished. Now, while some of the traditions remain, the branding has become a time for work and play to mingle and for children to gain an atypical education while playing in the dirt.

The group gathers around seven or eight in the morning, and those skilled on horseback saddle up and ride into the pasture to gather the herd. Gathering the herd can take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour or more depending on whether the cattle are spread out or not and the skill of the cowboy. Sometimes a calf will stray from the herd, and will need to be roped, restrained, and brought to the corral in the bed of a pickup.

Rod is one of the cowboys involved in gathering the herd and roping the calves.

Those not involved in gathering the herd have other tasks to prepare. Calves are given vaccinations to protect them against diseases, so someone brings the cooler full of vaccines and prepares the syringes by loading the liquid and setting the dosage. Another person will busy him or herself readying the fire. The fire needs to be steady enough not to be a huge distraction during the main event, and to keep the irons hot enough to quickly brand the calves. Because much of the work is done on the ground, someone might walk through the pen to make sure that there aren't any dangerous objects lying around that could injure the calves or the workers. (This is usually a job given to the children, because they inevitably find a way to turn it into a game whereas it would be tedious and annoying for the adults!) And, of course, someone needs to round up the “beverages” because what is an event where you mix knives, fire, random debris, thousand pound animals, children, and strapping young men and women without alcohol? Obviously this job goes to the person with the highest investment in the beverages, aka the village drunk. Typically there’s a cooler full of pop and water for the kids though, because the village drunk is also considerate. Everyone else busies themselves with conversation while drinking their morning coffee from a travel mug.

Kelsie and Dakota are keeping busy by catching up.

Dustin goes to the nearest water source to get a bucket ready for the pre mountain oysters.

Ted is standing in front of the fire pit. It is lifted off the ground to help aerate the fire. There is a hole cut into the side of the barrel where the irons are inserted into the heart of the fire. The arms of the irons extend out of the fire onto a wire ledge where they can be gathered. The brander must wear leather gloves like Ted is wearing to protect his or her hands from the heat.

Bellering cattle signal the nearing of the herd and the cowboys bringing them to the pen. All of the aforementioned workers and chatters hop to their feet and walk to the pen in anticipation of the upcoming events. One person opens the gate for the herd and moves around on foot to help bring the herd into the pen. Once all of the animals are gathered, the gate clangs shut signifying the beginning of the next step: sorting.

The mother cows must be separated from their offspring in order to make the work easier. Many times the dams are very protective of their calves and attack people that appear to be threatening. Moving the cows away also prevents the corral from becoming too crowded. Sorting requires a finesse that is learned from years of practice and coaching from experienced elders. The sorters must move slowly enough as to not induce stress in the animals, but quickly enough to ensure that the animals don’t turn back and reenter the pen. They must stay a proper distance from the cows, but it is best to be up close against the calves so they are unable to generate a strong kick. Depending on the pen size one to four people collaborate to let the cows exit and keep the calves in one area. One person stands by the gate to serve as insurance in case a calf makes it past the sorters.

Ty and Dalton Hoss wade through the sorted calves.

Once the cows have been sorted off, the real fun begins. The newly separated pairs bellow loudly, making speaking difficult without shouting. One or two people give directions to the rest and the jobs are divvied up. Again, depending on pen size one or two people hop on a horse and begin to rope and drag the calves to the workers. Several people line up in anticipation of the roped calves. These people are typically younger and spritely; they must throw the calf to the ground, and hold the calf still while the calf is given shots, castrated if the calf is a bull, branded, tagged if it has not been tagged yet and sometimes dehorned. Throwing the calf requires practice as well, and if a person isn't careful, injury could easily be the result. (Ask one unfortunate ex-boyfriend with a scar on his lip where a nasty cut and six stitches used to be.)

This image shows a roper preparing to rope a calf.

A roper gets the rope around the back leg of a calf. From this point, the horse will drag the calf about ten to twenty feet where it will be worked. It is ideal for the lasso to encompass both hind legs, but one hind leg will do. Ropers should never rope the front legs, which could result in injury of the calf.

The first thrower grabs the front leg and the back flank of the calf, and in a smooth, quick motion, pulls the calf onto its side while the second person pulls on the rope to assist the efforts of the first thrower. 

Jace (the man in a white cowboy hat) is the "first thrower" and Dalton D. (the man in brown) is the "second thrower.

Once the calf is on the ground, the first thrower kneels onto the calves neck and side, straddling its front leg, all the while keeping a tight grip on the front leg so the calf can’t gain leverage to kick or stand up.

Dalton Hoss (though not so young but still spritely) exemplifies proper form. He has the calf's leg bent back and held up. The calf in this position will not cause itself or the first thrower injury. 

The second person must scurry to the ground the moment the calf’s side lands. This is the most dangerous job, as the calf possesses most of its strength in the hind legs. Once on the ground, the second thrower keeps a tight grip on the highest hind leg, and uses his or her left foot to push the calf’s other leg forward. This separation prevents the calf from gaining leverage and helps keep the thrower and the other workers from getting kicked. The thrower’s right foot gets pressed against the calf’s anus, so if the calf defecates, it won’t cause a huge mess for the workers. Once they've settled onto the ground, the second thrower removes the rope from the calf’s hind legs, and the roper gathers the rope up in preparation for the next calf.

Dalton D. has a secure grip on the calf. This will keep the calf, him and the first thrower safe, as well as others who will be working on the calf.

The difficult task of caring for one calf has only just begun. The Hoss brothers both have brands that are registered, so that other cattlemen can recognize the calves as belonging to the Hosses. These brands must appear a certain way and in a certain area. For both men’s cattle, the brand must appear on the calf’s right hip. If the calf was not situated on the right side, the throwers must carefully re-position the calf without letting it go or being kicked, again a skill that requires practice.

Ty and Jordan carefully roll the calf onto its other side so that its right hip will be facing up.

     Once the calf is ready, the first thrower looks to the ear tag and yells out the color: “White!” “Yellow!” or “Red!” White tagged calves belong to Dalton and receive the HϞ brand. Red or yellow tagged calves are Wyatt’s and are branded with a WH. The two brothers raise the cattle together, so it is crucial that the calves receive the correct tag and brand.

The person manning the fire and the brands pulls out the correct brands and places the hot irons on the calf’s side. This is painful for the calf, and proves an especially trying time for the throwers. To achieve a clear brand, the calf must remain still, and the brander must be steady handed with the irons. The hotter the iron is, the faster the branding goes. 

Wyatt Hoss carefully leans over the calf in order to place a good brand on its side. Foul smelling smoke wafts over the workers, saturating their clothes with the smell of burnt hair and skin.

Meanwhile, a person with two syringes loaded with two different vaccines delivers the vaccination subcutaneously under the arm that the first thrower holds up.

The young man here carefully delivers two vaccines. This is done with the utmost care so the workers aren't in danger of being accidentally pricked.

 If the calf is a bull, another person arrives to castrate. The person in charge of castrating wields a pocket knife or scalpel. 

He or she squats down, cuts off a small portion of the bull’s scrotum and then removes both testicles. Once the testicles are removed, the area is sanitized with a disinfectant spray. The testicles are then brought to a bucket where they are saved for later on. 

Kelsie is mid-castration. In one hand you can see the knife and one testicle. She has the disinfectant spray tucked under her arm. At all times, she must be ready to step back if the calf gets out of control of either thrower. This process is quick and usually lasts anywhere from twenty seconds to a minute.

Once the calf has been “worked” the throwers stand up and release the calf. The second thrower must be especially careful during the release.

At any given time, a calf might be surrounded by upwards of five people, and there might be two or three calves being worked at the same time depending on the amount and ambition of the workers. 

This calf is concurrently being branded, given shots, and held down. 

At times there is a surplus of help, and people are left observing. Other times there is a shortage of workers.

Working cattle is physically demanding, and people trade jobs throughout the day to get a variety and to take a break. 

Once the day is done, the calves are released back to their mothers, and the socializing hits full swing.

The workers sit back on the fence, and enjoy a cold beverage prior to departing for supper.

 The workers gather in Wyatt’s house around what’s left of the beer and a good meal consisting of lots of protein and little vegetables (unless you count jalapeño poppers cooked over a fire, cheese-filled potatoes, or the hops used to make the beer). The workers share laughs over the mishaps of the day, talk about whatever strikes their fancy, and revel in the feeling one gets after a hard day of work and the satisfaction of a job well done.

Thanks for reading! 

Ode to mothers.

You laughed.
You cheered.
You smiled.

You showered love on your wonderful child.

You cried.
You sighed.
You wondered why.

To say it was easy would be a lie.

But now that we're gone, and on our own,
we comfort in the knowledge that we're not alone.
For behind us we know, though we may not see,
is a beautiful mother looking on;
her heart full of love,
and her eyes full of glee.

Thank to to all mothers for all that you do!
Special loving wishes to:
Jennifer Hoss, Tami McClellan, Margaret Hoss, Mary Beth Stelting, Mary Howard