JX Cattle Co. LLC
Tom & Mimi Sidwell
6237 Hwy 209
Tucumcari
New Mexico 88401
575-487-2419

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vacation @ jxranch.com

Last Update:

July 03, 2008

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Mimi sidell

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JX RANCH

just for fun!

Here is a collections of some fun stuff, some poetry, and some good ol' wise words! Sit back and enjoy the ride!

		There are times I wish Tom and I had some help in the house, doing the kind of things I really don't care for, nor have much time for, which includes just about any and all household chores, as well as driving to town for groceries. (I am the horse-back ridin', cattle-workin', fence-fixin', float-fixin', kind'a woman...) Since we can't afford to hire anyone, I feel that getting us a wife, a "real" wife, the kind that stays indoors and does what a good wife is supposed to do, would be the ticket! And you don't have to pay her! I happened to mention this to a friend, who promptly brought me out this poem below left written by Peggy Godfrey. With some minor changes to fit, here it is, followed by some other poems, sayings and humorous things!

THE PERFECT WIFE

Tom and I been thinkin'
'Bout tryin' to find a wife
A sweet and gentle martyr
Who'd like the ranchin' life.
Y'a know, someone to stay at home
To mop the floors and dust
Tidy up around the house
And never show disgust. Not the horse-back ridin' sort
But one who'd stay indoors
Whose interests won't emerge until
She's done with all the chores.
We'd have fresh coffee in the pot
She'd bake us cookies and pies
Wash the dishes, answer to phone
And swat the dad-burned flies.
She'd write the checks to pay the bills
And file the ranch receipts
Store away our winter clothes
Occasionally change the sheets.
She'd wash and dry and fold our clothes
Mend the ones with holes
Disagree - POLITELY
Then comply with all our goals.
When we're sortin' cattle
In a typical short-handed bind
She'd know which pairs to separate
By simply reading my mind.
We'd always be stocked with groceries
Have shelves of home-canned food
She'd freeze fresh fruit in season
Be tired, but never rude.
Home-made bread and jam we'd eat
Perhaps she'd milk a cow
Make butter and lots of ice cream
I'd even teach her how.
We ought to have a garden
Home-grown veggies taste so good
If she can run a chain saw
We'd let her cut our wood.
To get this "perfect wife" to us
Just stick her on the bus!

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A NEW MEXICAN IF

...you stop to watch when it rains...

...you think a snow flurry is reason enough to close school...

...your Christmas decorations include a yard of sand and 100 brown paper bags...

...you argue with your Santa Fe kin about whether the little bags are luminarias or farolitos...

...you buy salsa by the quart...

...your favorite restaurant has a chile list instead of a wine list...

...you know the difference between chile and chili...

...you don't worry about the chile being too hot...

...and besides, you have a fire extinguisher in the bathroom!...

...you don't complain about the spring winds, you brag about them...

...you're used to New Mexico being mistaken for a foreign country by out-of-staters...

...you take all available lanes to make a left turn...

...you had to slow down 15 mph when they raised the speed limits and threatened to enforce them...

CODE OF THE COW COUNTRY

   It don't take such a lot o'laws to keep the rangeland straight
   Nor books to write 'em in, 'cause there are only six or eight
   The first one is the Welcome Sign, written deep in Western hearts
   My camp is yours and yours is mine in all cow country parts
   Treat with respect all womankind, same as you would your sister
   Care for neighbors' strays you find, and don't call cowboys 'Mister'
   Shut the pasture gates when passin' through, an' taking all in all
   Be just as rough as pleases you, but never mean nor small
talk straight, shoot straight; never break your word to man nor boss
   Plumb always kill a rattlesnake; don't ride a sore-back hoss
   It don't take law nor pedigree to live the best you can
   These few is all it takes to be a cowboy an' - a man!

"The outside of a horse
is good for the inside of a man"

"If God meant for man to walk
He would have given him four legs
Instead He gave him two
One for each side of a horse"

"If life were logical, men would ride side saddles"

"Time spend in the saddle is never wasted"

"Never trust a man who doesn't like horses"

OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS
by Arthur Chapman

Out where the handclasp's a little stronger,
    Out where the smile dwells a little longer,
        That's where the West begins.
Out where the sun shines a little brighter,
Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter,
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter,
        That's where the West begins.

Out where the skies are a a trifle bluer,
Where friendship ties are a little truer,
Where there's laughter in every streamlet flowing,
Where there's more of reaping and less of sowing,
That's where the West begins.

Out where the world is still in the making,
Where fewer hearts with despair are breaking,
That's where the West begins.
Where there's more of singing and less of sighing,
Where there's more of giving and less of buying,
And a man makes friends without half trying,
That's where the West begins.

WHY RANCH TRUCKS SELDOM ARE STOLEN...

1. They have a range of about 20 miles before they overheat, break down or run out of gas.

2. Only the owner knows how to operate the door to get in or out.

3. It is difficult to drive fast with all the fence tools, syringes, buckets, and loose papers in the cab.

4. It takes too long to start and then the smoke clouds your vision.

5. The blue heeler in the back doesn't appreciate new people in his territory.

6. The large round bale in the back makes it hard to see if you're being chased. You could use the mirrors if they weren't cracked and covered with duct tape.

7. Top speed is about 45 mph.

8. It is hard to commit a crime with everyone waiving at you.

A WOMAN'S PLACE...?

"A woman's place is in the home". That always has made sense.
They're just not built for riding broncs, nor fixin' barbwire fence.
The "woman's place" is well-defined throughout the cowboy West,
Besides, it's our tradition. Our old ways have stood time's test.
There's lots of things that women do way better than a man.
They're a whiz at washing diapers, or with a frying pan.
Those ladies are a comfort when a man ain't feelin' prime,
So, for cookin' or for lookin', give me a woman every time.
I've always advocated the old values of the West.
I believe, just like gospel, that the old-time rules is best.

A few years back I put things off, like I'm inclined to do.
When branding time come rolling 'round - I didn't have a crew."
And this girl, I'll call her "Laurie", said she'd agree to lend a hand.
I thought she meant her husband! See, I didn't understand
That she meant her, you savvy now that I was in a bind.
I didn't want to break her heart. I couldn't be unkind.
She said she had these horses that needed lotsa miles.
I said we'd start at daylight. She says, "Great. And thanks",
and smiles.

'Bout three o'clock next morning, while I'm still snoring hard,
I starts, and hears a creeping gooseneck ease into the yard.
We invites her in for breakfast, but she's already ate.
It's an hour and half to daybreak 'n I'm already late.
The crew shows up, but she's the one who gives me an assist
When Old Ranger tries to buck me off. She gathers cows I missed!
While I gees and haws, Old Ranger, her horse rolls o'er his hocks.
She cuts us cowboys seven ways, 'n does it orthodox.
There ain't nothin' that that girl can't do! I'm feelin' like a dope.
At last in desperation, I says, "Laurie, wanta rope"?
She keeps six rasslers busy. We're all abustin' gut.
She even finds a branded bull that I forgot to cut.
For four long days she shows us how a real hand operates.
She rassles and gives shots and brands. She even "casterates"!
When we gets done I offer up to ride, to pay her back.
In the nicest way that she knows how, she lets me know: I lack
Some basic skills I never learned. My horses ain't the best.
They got more help than they can use. I prob'ly need a rest.

So:

"A woman's place is in the home", to me don't seem so strange, Because I finally figured Laurie's "Home is On The Range."

"YOU MIGHT BE A RANCHER, IF..."

*Your dog rides in the truck more than your wife,

*You convinced your wife that an overnight trip to a cattle convention is a vacation,

*You have ever had to wash off in the backyard with a garden hose before your wife would let you in the house,

*You have used bailing wire to attach a license plate,

*You can remember the acreage, water rights, depth of your wells, state & federal leases and number of cattle you ran on a ranch you leased 10 years ago, but you cannot recall your wife's birthday,

*You have driven off the road while examining your neighbor's cattle,

*You have buried a dog or a horse and cried like a baby,

*You have used the same knife to make bull calves into steers and peel apples,

*You wave at every vehicle whether you know them or not,

*You refer to ranches by who owned them 50 or more years ago,

*Your wife agrees to observe Mother's Day after the calves are branded,

*Family weddings and special events are planned around calving and weaning,

*Your family instantly becomes silent when the weather comes on the news,

*Your nearest neighbor is ten sections away, and you know what a section is,

*Your other vehicle is a tractor,

*If you were given one million dollars, you would keep right on ranching until you run out of money, because that is who and what you are.

Note to gang members - Reasons not to assault a ranch woman

By Welda McKinley Grider

Violence does not scare us. We ride 1,500 pound horses and stare down an alley full of mad, snot-slinging cows that weigh over 800 pounds. We've held down calves that outweigh you by four times.

Don't try to intimidate us. Most of our husbands stand a head and shoulders taller, outweigh us by 100 pounds and we aren't scared of them. Why would be we be frightened by someone who can't keep their pants up?

Every time we work cows, our husbands threaten us if we don't get out of the gate. They threaten us if we don't stay in the gate.

We are pretty much not impressed by threats. Plus, if you get much closer we may give you some threats of our own to consider and be able to back it up.

Don't wave that knife at me boy. I castrate when we brand, throw the "mountain oysters" on the fire AND eat them, dirt and all. You probably don't want to go there.

Don't threaten to steal my pickup. I work for a living so have insurance.

The chances of you being able to drive a standard are next to none and there is no spare. I've walked home from the back side of the ranch, I can walk from here.

You want my purse? Take my purse. It has little money in it because, as I mentioned, I work for a living.

You will find various receipts for feed and vet supplies, some dried up gum and the notice for my next teeth cleaning.

The only "drugs" you will find is something that is either aspirin or a calf scours pill but its been in there so long I've forgotten which it is.

Don't threaten to hurt me. I may look old and fragile to you, but I can ride horseback for 12 hours, with nothing to eat or drink. I have been kicked, bucked off, run over and mucked out.

I've had worse things happen to me in the corrals than you have experienced in the little gang wars you've been through, and still cooked supper for a crew.

You may whip me, son, but you'll be a tired, sore S.O.B. in the morning and yes, I will remember your face because I am used to knowing which calf belongs to which cow.

I'll also remember which direction you went and what you were wearing because I've tracked many a cow with less information than you've given me.

You are not going to scare me with that little "Saturday Night Special" when I have a .38 in my boot.

You need not think I won't shoot you. I've shot several coyotes and numerous rattlesnakes.

I put down my horse when he broke his leg and shot my pet dog when he killed some sheep. Don't think I won't consider you a rabid dog and go on my way.

Welda McKinley Grider was raised by a ranch woman and knows many and would pity the thug that tried to rob them.

GOD BLESS OUR RANCHERS!!!!!

The Somethings of Happiness

I recently read that the three grand essentials for happiness are something to do, something to love and something to hope for.

I believe those thoughts were conceived at the ranch because finding an answer to each requires only being there.

Something to do. There is never ever not something to do. From daylight to dark and beyond, 24/7, there is something to do.

Something to do can come in large packages like spending a week gathering cattle, sorting, preg testing and shipping and feeding meals to all those people who come to help.

Pulling a well, building five miles of new fence, clearing brush for a new water storage tank you have yet to build, or finding time to mechanic on the line up of "injured" vehicles at the shop.

Something to do can come in small packages like making up another pot of coffee because the neighbor just drove in the yard and will likely come sit a spell.

Closing the barn door because it is open and shouldn't be, hanging a gate or throwing a little extra flake of hay to the old sorrel because he is looking his age and getting a little thin.

Something to love is easy. You have to love the life to be there and love it even more to stay there.

Something to love begins with the sunrise, carries through the day with family, livestock, pets, and a favorite chair to grab a short siesta in the heat of the day.

Something to love comes in the mail when a faraway friend takes the time to jot you a note.

Something to love is the satisfaction of the honest tired you feel when you, at last, lay your head down to sleep in anticipation of the next sunrise.

Something to love falls with the rain, blows with breeze on a hot afternoon, bleats with a new lamb, nickers with a new colt and bawls with a new calf.

And something to hope for is the very foundation of life in agriculture. Never is there a larger volume of hope than that which wells up within every human that makes their living from the land.

Hope blankets the entire life of a rancher. He hopes the market improves, holds, or doesn't drop.

He hopes his cows are bred and his calves will be born on a sunny day.

He hopes the grass will grow and the grasshoppers don't.

He hopes his family is safe at all times and he hopes he is there when they need him.

While hope springs from within us all, for the rancher and farmer it is like a major organ that keeps him alive.

The sprig of green that promises a crop and the birth of new life that promises a paycheck are the pulse of his entire life-- year after year.
Men of agriculture are soldiers that feed the world while a fight faces them every way they turn.
People who eat food fight them. People who wear shoes fight them. People who indirectly make a living off their way of life fight them.

And yet, when it is again Spring, those soldiers of agriculture plant, brand, and begin a new life cycle.

And their song is "Maybe it will rain."

By Julie Carter