The birds were chirping, the crows were cawing and an occasional bellow from the cows could be heard. My old bull named Leon and the neighbor were making grunting sounds at each other again. Bulls do that from time to time. One thinks he’s bigger and badder than the other, and they grunt at each other kinda like men do sometimes. I guess we think the grunting is supposed to scare the other guy away.

It was a few minutes of complete solitude from a very enjoyable weekend. It was the ending of an annual men and boys outing at the ranch with The Osgood Clan. Once a year, the men in both of our families get together with fathers and sons and spend the weekend doing absolutely nothing but messing around. We set a few lines in the creek, ride the four wheelers, talk and reminisce, tell lies to each other, eat too much, grunt, scratch and just act like men are supposed to act.

The young boys in our family have always been allowed to do anything they want (within reason, of course) like wrestle, jump on the bed, get dirty, pillow fight, eat all the junk food they can, drink all the soda water they want and just do things all kids like to do when their moms aren’t around.

The event had gone off without any real problems. The kids were all in good behavior. Uncle Marvin cooked some real good food and none of the kids got real mad at each other. We had a brief moment of refreshing rain showers and the weather became slightly cooler on Sunday.

I was deep in my thoughts when a buzzard flew over. I watched him swoop and soar then dip almost to the ground until he caught another air current and then went hundreds of feet into the air, only to do it all over again. I looked at this old bird and thought about the freedom he had and the ability to live and fly almost anywhere he wanted to go.

I wondered to myself if this is the same buzzard that had taken up residency in my deer stand for the second year in a row. Baby buzzards are an ugly sight. Last year one mama buzzard had her hatch in my stand. I noticed yesterday that she flew out of my stand again.

I tried to imagine how it would be to fly like a bird. If I could view this wonderful earth God gave us from the sky, moving and streaking across the sky under your own power, catching currents of air like they were fresh sheets in your bed whisking you off to a wonderful night’s sleep.

I always liked that time of the year at the ranch because it was spring. The grass was green, the baby calves were running about and the wildlife and wildflowers were in full bloom. I just wish it was that way now. Things are really, really bad. No rain, no grass, no green. Just bare dirt. What little bit of grass that tries to grow is devoured as soon as it sprouts. I have been forced to begin selling off my cows, and if things don’t turn around soon, I will be forced to deplete my entire herd. The cattle I have sold have been sold at a loss.

I surveyed the surroundings lying around the property from years past. A few left over socks, a pair of jeans, somebody’s paint ball gun inside, shoes, little boys underwear, more socks, three flashlights, two pillows, many, many more socks, shirts and more jeans. All byproducts of a great weekend, and no mamas around to make them pick up their junk.

If nobody calls me, I simply store them with the rest of the leftover things from years past, able to be reclaimed at the next get-together. And then, then, well, there’s my junk. The stuff I have tried to hang on to, only to let it rot and rust until it becomes useless. The junk I am saving for some day, some time, just in case I might need it, but know I never will.

I had another cup of coffee in my hand. I took a sip and began to realize this year is probably the last year I will be able to see my full herd. It kinda hurts to know some of the old cows have to be sold, but so it goes. If I can hang onto my bull I will, but he may also become a byproduct of the drought.

And so it goes in the life of ranching. I know I’m not alone. It’s happening all over the state of Texas and in time, God will once again replenish the earth and I will be able to replenish my herd. So be it.

I turned up my last drop of coffee and knew this was almost the end of a great past. Even though I know my dad was here in spirit, I just wish he could have helped me finish off the coffee pot.

Clifford

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