Separated from their calves, the cows sent up a protest of bellows, a deafening but familiar din.
The setting, in its breathtaking beauty, was predictable, located as it was in the lush green hills of Chase County, Kan.
And the ranch hands wore boots with spurs, T-shirts, blue jeans and, in at least one case, chaps-ordinary attire, given the day`s work that lay ahead.
But the crew was unusual. The nine people were female-six women, two teenagers and a 10-year-old girl.
Move over, Marlboro man. This is women`s country.
The history of Kansas and the rest of the West has been filled with women working on farms and ranches. Today, many working ranches in Kansas and other states regularly employ cowgirls right along with cowboys.
It is somewhat unusual, however, for a woman to own her own ranch and to have only female help.
But that`s what`s happening at the Homestead Ranch, a 6,000-acre spread nestled in the Flint Hills.
Sometimes the helpers work for pay, as on this day, and sometimes they pay-$185 for a two-day weekend, $425 for a work week-to work there as guests of Prairie Women Adventures and Retreat, a program at the ranch.
Owner Jane Koger of Bazaar, Kan., is part of the fourth generation in her family to ranch in Chase County. She grew up near Cottonwood Falls, graduated from high school there and then left the state for several years, attending college in Idaho.
While away, she read ”Atlas Shrugged,” a novel by objectivist philosopher Ayn Rand. Koger identified with Dagny Taggart, a strong woman in the book, and decided to return home to run a ranch.
She has been back in Chase County since 1979 and figures she`ll be there the rest of her life.
”I think there`s a part of me that can never get away,” she says. ”I will always have my home in Bazaar, and I will always feel like I belong in the Flint Hills. I can`t imagine anywhere else that would have the pull or the pleasure. . . . I could not leave.”
When people ask Koger, 37, how she got into ranching, she says, ”The same way my brother did: I inherited it.”
Actually, Koger inherited money that helped her buy the land she manages in the heart of the Flint Hills, Kansas` rocky rangeland famous for its native grasses and scenery.
Her father, Evan Koger, a retired rancher, helped all of his children get into ranching. His son, Ed, and daughter, Susan, ranch near Medicine Lodge, Kan., while Jane and her sisters, Vicky and Kay, farm and ranch in Chase County.
Jane Koger`s operation is unusual because it is a working ranch and a retreat and training ground for women.
Relying on a crew of local women for her regular help, Koger runs a 250-head herd of Hereford cows, usually backgrounding the calves for 60 days after they are weaned in the fall. She normally sells all of the calves except for the heifers she holds back as replacements for older cows culled from the herd.
In addition to her cow-calf operation, Koger also runs a 400-acre farm where she raises corn silage and milo to feed to the calves in the fall.
Because she doesn`t want to be tied down all the time with ranch work, she leases out part of the land to other cattle producers.
”I would have no life,” she says of the prospect of operating her ranch to its full capacity. ”My neighbors would be impressed with that, but I would hate myself and that`s what I`ve been trying to get away from. To me, the priority is the natural resource, the grass.”
Koger, who has been honored for her grazing management by the Society for Range Management, went to China in June for a three-week tour of grasslands in that country. She considers it a rare opportunity to get away for more than a weekend, but it`s a trip she could take because of how she manages her business.
”The balance is making a living out here and living the kind of life that is enjoyable,” said Koger. ”The Flint Hills have got to be one of the most gorgeous places to live in the world, so why be here and then kill yourself while working at it? Why not enjoy yourself?”
Perhaps the most unique aspect of her enterprise is Prairie Women, a program based at the farm along a winding gravel road near the ranch. It`s a place for women to retreat and learn, if they choose, what they don`t already know about farming and ranching.
Called The Talkington, after the previous owners, the farmstead includes a three-bedroom farmhouse that was once a schoolhouse; a yard with enormous oak trees; a barn with a hayloft; and a barnyard with chickens, calves, cats and horses.
Koger knows how lucky she was to have been exposed to the inner workings of a ranch and to the serenity of the Flint Hills.
It`s important, she says, for other women to have a chance to learn about it, especially at a time when the rural population is dwindling and with it opportunities for first-hand experience on farms and ranches.
Prairie Women guests sometimes participate in the spring and fall round-ups and the working of cattle. Some are content just to gather eggs from the hens at the farm. It may not be the most efficient way to run a ranch, but it`s effective.
One day recently, however, Koger worked a set of cows and calves with her regular crew of women. One`s a registered nurse. Several are mothers. Most work regularly on Flint Hills ranches.
Beginning at 8 a.m., the women gathered the cattle into a single pasture and drove them down the road to a set of pens to be sorted and worked. In all, they had 104 calves to vaccinate, brand, castrate and dehorn, as well as 110 cows to doctor.
”We talk about cow karma here-with cow karma nobody gets hurt,” Koger said, pointing to one of her workers who had just popped a cow on the head with her hand.
Tipper, a black baldy with horns, got yelled at a time or two. But the women did not use cattle prods, just arms, sticks and a couple of whips to sort the animals. It took a lot of pushing and coaxing, but by about 11 o`clock, they were ready to start running calves through the chute.
Sue Alexander, the nurse, loaded up a syringe.
”I`d rather give the shots,” she told Jane.
”Do you want to do the head gate, Cheryl?” Koger asked one of the teenagers, who shook her head to say no. ”What do you want to do?”
”Cut,” the teen shot back.
”OK,” said Koger.
Most of three hours after the gathering of the cattle began, the first calf went into the chute-backward.
The women laughed, got the calf headed the right way and went to work, Alexander and Cheryl Bailey vaccinating, Koger branding and Linda Starkey holding the calf`s head still.
One by one, the calves were passed through the upright chute into the cradle chute, which was turned on its side for the treatment.
One at a time, they were turned out, the males newly neutered, the horned dehorned, all of the calves vaccinated and branded with the ranch`s unique flying ”J” brand.
Koger showed Bailey and Jenny Dillard, the teenagers, how to brand, a task neither one had ever performed.
”Rock it and roll it; you know how you like rock and roll,” she told them, pressing the electric branding iron onto a calf`s flank, as a cloud of stinking smoke rose from the animal`s singed hair.
In a nearby empty lot, 8-year-old Ty Wilson, whose mother, Sue Wilson, worked nearby, sat alone tossing rocks at a gate; bored, he went home before noon.
Standing off to the side as the others worked, Koger talked about the differences between her ranch and those run by men.
”One difference is if you work with guys, the owner does all the branding and the newest one does the push up (the chute). Women have more of a tendency to trade off,” she explained.
”You get caught between how efficiently you get the work done and giving people the opportunity to learn something new. . . . I fight the battle-what do the neighbors think, or am I doing it right? It took a long time to get to where it didn`t matter.”
As the doctored calves gathered in a lot adjoining the work area, bawling cows just across the fence studied them closely, looking for their own.
By lunchtime, the women, their hands and clothes bloodied and soiled, had worked no more than a third of the young animals.
”Of course, we`re probably not as fast as the guys, but that`s just the breaks,” said Koger. ”If you`re going to work cattle as a timed event, just do it at a rodeo as far as I`m concerned.”
The ranch`s cook was not working that day, so Koger slipped back to the house to finish preparing the feast of roast beef, vegetables, potatoes, salads and, best of all, gooey chocolate dessert.
The biggest part of the workday still lay ahead, but the women took a long lunch, talking about the cattle and gardening, telling stories and catching up on the local news.
Someone asks how Tipper was.
”I think she had postpartum depression and then just went nuts,” says Susan Hawman.
Everyone laughs.
”She`s got a cute boy calf,” someone chimes in.
When they finished eating, the women did the dishes, before going back to the pens, complaining about how they couldn`t nap first.
But for mealtimes and ”The Golden Girls” on Saturday night, there is little routine about the ranch.
That particular day, the work stretched into the evening hours.
Even so, Arlene Bailey and Susan Hawman got to Strong City in time to see ”Driving Miss Daisy,” and Koger got home in time for her favorite television show.
”I caught `The Golden Girls,` the whole hour,” Koger said. ”I was just elated and I caught the movie the next night.”
What more could a person ask?
Not much, she says.
