Winter Sojourn: Week's Ranch, where City Person meets Happy Cows

I love cows.  I love eating them even more. 

It may sound "terrible", but the god-awful truth is that the breeds of cows widely recognized and available today would have never existed if it were not for domestication and meat consumption.  But enough about that.

  

Week's Ranch is an 1,000 acre cattle ranch in Santa Rosa, owned by our good friend Jack.  Besides running the ranch, Jack's other full time jobs (not in any particular order) include being an airline captain of a 747, a father, a good friend, and others.  Jack and Eric used to fly together, and remained good friends; I am the beneficiary of their good friendship.  During this trip, I realize I am the beneficiary of many good friendships between Eric and his friends, for which I am immensely grateful.  

Entrance to the habitat of Happy Cows

Jack is 5th generation on the property.
His great great grandfather homesteadded here.

A winter shot from the backyard

Orange Juice tried to sneak a bite
of my chocolate cake

I spent four days on the ranch with the cows, the horses, Axel the border collie, Orange Juice the cat (as well as Rice Crispy and Ginger).  While on the ranch, I learned how to skin a turkey with my bare hands.  We made stir fry, fed hay to animals, went for long hikes, smoked turkey jerky, watched sunrises and sunsets.  We enjoyed the great company of each other and "LOL" a lot.  I was obviously on vacation mode and felt I could live on the ranch for the rest of my natural life...  In reality, my feeble body can't even lift a corner of a bale of hay, nor has Jack invited us to live as squatters on his property.  Like new and shiny bling bling, ranch-living glamor is short lived.  

I remain, a City Person who met Happy Cows at Week's Ranch.  Here lies my documentation.  

Axel chillaxing on the tool box of "his" truck

Jack has a herd of certified Red Angus - you know you are a legit breed if you have your own magazine!  People are probably more familiar with the name Black Angus. In reality, there are no differences between the Red and Black Angus, whether in the breed or the taste of their meat, except black was arbitrarily chosen as the "proper color" over red early in the development of the Aberdeen Angus.  And the rest is history.  

Natural, grass fed, hormone and antibiotics free.
These don't eat a kernel of corn! 

I was having a silent moment with the cows
during my morning hike up the mountain. 

All cattle on the ranch are grass fed, free range, hormone and antibiotics free, and are not fed a kernel of corn or grain. You could not meet any happier and healthier cows. You may have already learned from some health-food or environmental manifesto that it takes 16 pounds of feed and some 2,500 gallons of water to produce one pound of beef.  That is true, but do you know it takes 25 acres of land to raise a grass fed cow naturally to slaughter weight?  I did not.  There is so much I do not know about ranch life, so Jack is my walking encyclopedia.  I was not afraid to ask the most basic and seemingly moronic questions.  After all, I was raised merely a City Person.  

Our sometimes entertaining conversations would go something like this...  

City Person:  What kind of grass do cows like to eat? 

Ranch Person:  The green kind.  

City Person:  Oh.  (Silence...)

Ranch Person:  (Chuckle chuckle...) 

City:  What is the difference between the yellow and red tag on the ears? 

Ranch:  One is the identifier of the breed and the other is the number of the cow.

City:  Do you know the cows by their faces, since you see them everyday? 

Ranch:  Sure!  I see the cow, look at the tag and say "here comes #164!"

City:  Oh.  (Silence...) 

Ranch:  (Chuckle chuckle...)

City:  Why do you supplement with hay in the winter? 

Ranch:  To make sure they have enough to eat this time of the year,  especially the pregnant ones and the calves.  

City:  How heavy is a bale of hay? 

Ranch:  About 50 pounds heavier than you.  

City:  I want to help you with the hay. 

Ranch:  Of course - here!  

City:  (Using proper lifting technique...but failed to lift anything off the ground)    

Ranch:  (Chuckle chuckle...)

City:  (Back to taking pictures)  May I pet the cows? 

Ranch:  Sure, but just pet the bull.  

City:  Which one is the bull? 

Ranch:  That one.  No, not that one.  The one in front of you. 

City:  This one?  Which one?  THIS one right here?  
Ranch:  Yes. 
City:  Why just the bull? 

Ranch:  Because he is pretty sure of himself and he knows he can drop kick you if he wants to.  

City:  Oh.  (Silently and gingerly scratching the bull) 

Ranch:  (Chuckle chuckle)

Raising grass fed cows is expensive.  It takes about 25 acres of grassland and 20 months to raise a cow to maturity.  Even with a thousand acres, much of the property is covered with trees, or without grass.  On a typical year, Jack's cattle roam and feed freely until 7 months.  He then picks the cream of the crop and raises them to maturity and slaughter weight; slaughters and sells the beef, whole or half, to customers.  The rest of the cattle are sold at 7-months to commercial operations such as feedlots.  These cows will finish their lives in commercial feedlots, likely CAFO, although there is no tracking of the cattle beyond the sale. They come packaged at grocery stores and become dinners in various forms.  Such is the fate of domesticated cows, strictly as a matter of fact.  


Week's Ranch has its own bulls, and breeds its own "next generation" of Red Angus. We saw plenty of calves roaming about with the moms - it looked as though they were taking turns babysitting each other's offspring.  After giving birth, the cow typically hides out with the calf at some "undisclosed location" for three days, then she brings her baby to show off to the rest of the herd.  

The calf shown in this photo was merely 4-5 days old - a docile, sweet looking calf that already weighs more than 80 pounds!  




Branding season takes place in January.  Although branding can be achieved by heat or liquid nitrogen, the state of California only recognizes heat branding.  Witnessing how cows live and graze on Jack's ranch naturally made me think about the farmers who raised the beef in my freezer.   

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, other ambitions ensue.  

City Person capturing the opportunity
to pose on a D5 

Aaron the ranch hand sawing the
two 40-year old fir trees into manageable sizes

Jack had to take down two 40-year old fir   trees a week ago - they would have crushed the house in the next big windstorm.  The beautiful trunks will be crafted into a cupboard or cabinet or some sort.  The rest was organized into stacks of firewood for the winter.   

Getting ready to haul the trunks to the saw mill

Red and orange and yellow and green
complement the blue sky beautifully

Hundreds of beautiful Hachiya persimmons 

Another persimmon tree, with much smaller fruit

Black Jack, one of four horses on the property,
works hard to round up the cows with Jack

Black Jack, left
Duke, Right

City Person learned how to skin a turkey
with her bare hands!  I have only known one
way to clean a poultry - dunk it in boiling water
then pluck the feathers.  Jack taught me a much
quicker, less messy way.  Skin it!  

Smoked turkey jerky,
Jack's famous recipe!

The "roping device"

Sunrise,
taken while I was taking a morning hike up the mountain

Going for a hike on the property

Poison oak abound, we could've used a GPS...

The ranch was paradise found. Not only because of its scenery, but because of its unpolluted characters, founded and built by the good, hardworking people of the ranch.  

I was grateful to have been a temporary, small part of the ranch for mere four days.  I was more grateful to have been a beneficiary of Jack and Eric's friendship. The friendship is real; unpretentious; open.  The conversations are genuine.  The people are warm; generous.  


I learned a lot about myself, and once again, it helped with my adjustment and my mindset for returning to work.  I have a deeper and better appreciation that life - my life - is about being playful, with intermittent moments of seriousness; not the other way around.  How others choose to live theirs is not my business.  As for me, being playful is plenty to live by.