1924 (we think) couple on a motorcycle
Going though old stuff is fun, fun, fun. I found an old negative of this photograph that belonged to my Grandpa Engen of Holt Minnesota. KFGO’s Terry Spies assures me that this is a Harley circa. mid 1920’s. Who are they? Well it’s not Grandpa, I have no idea who the man is but we are certain that the woman in my Grandfathers Sister. Gladys Engen Brown. Who was married to Sam Brown and lived in Mayville for many years.
Hello,
I’ve told you before, “My heroes have always been cowboys”. But I’ve got a new hero. Aaron, the yardman at the sales ring.
Now, I suppose I had better start at the beginning. With the cow. The wild cow.
I think the cow is about twelve years old. We’ve been trying to sell her for a couple years. Her calves are getting smaller. And she is getting harder to handle. She used to just be wild. You know, stand in the middle of the herd with her head up. Jump in the air and blow by you in the sorting alley. Maybe try and kick you. But you had to kind of enjoy her. Kept you on your toes. Trouble is, I was getting old faster than the wild cow. And getting nervous that she would jump on the grandkids when we’re working cows.
So, last year, we made a serious effort to sell the cow. Since she was wild, she was the first cow down the alley and through the chute when we were preg checking. Into the sell pen she went. Trouble is she was the only cow in the sell pen. One trip around there and she could see this wasn’t good. She came back to us, knocked over all of our vet supplies, crashed through the gate, and headed for the mountain. We decided to sell her next year.
Well, we couldn’t get her out of the timber last spring, so mama and baby stayed at the mountain alone. You wouldn’t see her often. Just a shadow passing through a clearing and disappearing into the fog high on the mountain. She became known as the “ghost cow”.
Eventually, she went over to the neighbors to spend the summer with his cows. Now, the neighbor is an understanding guy, so he didn’t mind. Whenever he mentioned the ghost cow, we would try to sell her to him. We discussed selling a bow hunt on the cow. I thought about putting on camouflage clothes, taking a hunting knife, and going after her alone. I thought about just having Shirley put a mad on, and go after her. But then I felt sorry for the cow.
Finally this weekend, the neighbor said he was moving cows. Daryl, went to get her, because I was scared. They rigged up a trap leading into the trailer, and the ghost cow was looking for a way out and jumped in. Smoother than snot on a doorknob. I was proud of the cowboys.
The ghost cow spent the night in the trailer. Kicked the side, bellering and slamming into the side if you walked by. She was madder than Shirley has ever been! It even scared me!
On Sunday morning I took her over to the sales ring. I stole the newspaper from the yard’s mailbox and patiently read the paper while I waited for the Aaron. The ghost cow was rocking the trailer so it was a little hard to read.
When he came, I warned him about the cow. I knew it was a couple days till the sale, but I dang sure didn’t want this cow at home. He shrugged and let me know he had handled a wild bull the day before, and this cow couldn’t be that bad. How could I argue? I never saw the bull.
I advised him to get the gates set, because when that old cow came out of that trailer she was going to be looking for some fresh meat to eat. He went down and set the gates and hollered to let her come.
And boy, did I. She came out of that trailer looking for the timber. When she saw she was in hell, she turned around and came back for me. I was safe on the fence. Down the alley at a lope, around the corner, and sliding into a pen. Sparks flying off the concrete. Trapped! Almost.
The yardman started to shut the gate. Now the gates in the sales yard are seven feet tall and made of channel iron. That old cow was quick. She bounced off the far side of that pen, did a 360, and hit that gate going nine oh. The gate crashed the yardman in the head and down he went. The cow bellered and camped on him for a second. I was quite a ways away, so I crawled up higher to watch. I’m not real brave, but I am pretty smart.
The cow mauled him around a little, and then I’m not sure if it was his screams or mine that made her leave and come down the alley for me. Anyway, it gave him time to get up on the fence.
I got the cow locked up and I think the smell of the fresh blood made her even madder. Aaron was leaking a little where that gate had smacked him in the temple. He was a little groggy, and staggering a little, but I will tell you one thing. He darn sure knew how to swear at a cow.
When he got done cussing that cow, I suggested, “He go in that pen and teach that cow a lesson”! I’m sure glad he wasn’t carrying a gun, cause I think the ghost cow and I would have been in trouble.
If you eat a burger in the next couple weeks, I’d cook it real good, just in case it’s the “ghost cow”. We don’t want to take any chances on her getting away.
Later, Dean
Dean Meyer is a rancher from western North Dakota. His column, Hat Tips, which usually deals with the lighter side of ranch life, has appeared across North and South Dakota for twenty years. When not planting hay, putting up hay, or feeding hay, Dean enjoys teaching his grandkids bad habits. To read past Hit Tips with Dean Meyer Click Here
To comment, email studio@kfgo.com
Hello,
Woke up this morning to a cold, wet rain. I always wondered why you would say “wet” rain. Seems kind of redundant. Anyway, it is cold and wet out there.
I keep telling Shirley, “You had better put on an extra layer when you go to do chores. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” And she just glares at me.
“Well, I can’t do them. I have to write an article. Oh, and give the horses an extra bait of grain.” More glare.
Now, they are forecasting five inches of snow for this afternoon and evening in the southwest part of the state. They say it will be heavy, wet snow. I don’t have to remind many of you, but the last time they forecast five inches of heavy, wet snow, we received three feet of heavy, wet snow and it broke nearly all of the tree branches in Dickinson off.
“Shirley, don’t forget to put on a neckerchief. I don’t want you catching the flu!”
Every year, winter kind of sneaks up on us. I’m not sure why that would happen. I mean I am sixty years old. I should know by now that the snow is going to come in the fall and winter. I should not have to dig through the snow to put away garden hoses, lawn tools, and the toolbox with the sections and guards for the mower. I should not have to dig through the snow to find the hoof nippers and the rasp. My overshoes should be somewhere other than where I took them off last spring when the corral dried out. My winter cap should be in the entryway, rather that under the seat in one of the pickups.
“Oh, yeah, Shirley! Put a little straw in the doghouse for Shadow when you go by. I’m working on my article for the paper!”
I was thinking about the time the deer hunters got snowed in at the ranch. First day of deer season. I imagine in the mid-eighties. Started out nice as could be. We had a house full of deer hunters. The morning was nice, but by afternoon, the wind had risen, and we had a full-fledged blizzard roaring. By the next morning, we were snowed in.
Now, these deer hunters had plenty of refreshments. Not a lot of food, mind you, but they darn sure weren’t going to get very thirsty. And I ask you, have you ever been locked up with a bunch of deer hunters that had nothing to do but drink and play cards?
“Shirley, lock that skinny colt up in the barn before you come in, will ya?”
Anyway, these city deer hunters were listening to “the tirty point buck” over and over on a tape player and slopping down beer like there was no tomorrow. Every once in awhile one of them would go over and look out the door and report back that the hunt was off for another day. The card game went on and on and on. Pinochle, poker, and three-card guts. Five card stud and draw poker. You name it. We played it.
By the time the sun broke through the third day, I hated deer hunters. I had lost all of my cash and a good part of Shirley’s jewelry.
I was going to tell you…..
But I can’t. Cause Shirley is outside hollering like a Comanche. I think one of the bulls has her cornered!
Later, Dean
Dean Meyer is a rancher from western North Dakota. His column, Hat Tips, which usually deals with the lighter side of ranch life, has appeared across North and South Dakota for twenty years. When not planting hay, putting up hay, or feeding hay, Dean enjoys teaching his grandkids bad habits.
Hello,
Those of you in the ranch business know how weak the horse market is. I imagine it’s a combination of not having a slaughter option, and the recession. If you have to decide who needs feed worse, your kids or your horses, most people kind of opt for the kids. Although some days I wonder.
There was a horse sale here in town the other day. It was pretty tough on young horses. I was visiting with a rancher friend after the sale and he commented, “How things had changed over the years”. He said, “You used to come to the horse sale and they would be giving puppies away. Now, they sell the puppies and give horses away!”
But times were not always that way, and I just heard this morning that the horse market is getting set for a big rebound. You had better buy one while you have the chance! And what the heck, it reminded me of another sale years ago…
Lynn and I had taken a load of bucking horses to Mesquite for a sale. I tell you what, I’d way rather drive through Killdeer or even Dickinson, than Oklahoma City or Dallas. I don’t know where everyone was going, but they were in a hurry.
But we got into the fairgrounds with our load of bucking horses and didn’t cause any wrecks. Oh, we may have created a little road rage. But what the heck, I married an Irish woman, so I’m kind of used to people being a little upset at my behavior.
And you should have seen the bucking horse and bull sale. I guess they had about three hundred bucking bulls and a hundred horses to sell in one day. A long day. But they are used to it and it goes real smooth. Until they got to our horses.
Most of the horses and bulls they sold are pretty well seasoned. Or, I guess you could say kind of wore out. They have been to rodeos for a lot of years, and for many, their best years are behind them.
Ours were a little different. They were bred to be bucking horses and only had been out a few times. At places like Elgin and Stanley. They hadn’t seen the bright lights and all the action. People all over. Indoor arena. And I guess you could say the young riders they had trying the horses were a little overmatched.
Like I said, things were going smooth. Until our horses came in the chutes. One flipped over backwards. One climbed over the chute. We finally got things settled down and got a cowboy out. He got bucked off into the chute and broke a leg. We had to wait for the paramedics to get him out. Twenty minutes. The next guy got hung up and broke an arm. Another twenty minute wait. The third guy was getting nervous. So was the horse. Finally, he nodded. The horse bailed out, turned back to the chute, and threw the cowboy against the chute gate. Concussion. Another twenty minute wait.
By now, we had the rest of our horses in the chutes. And the riders were weakening. They would see Lynn putting a flank on a horse and they would kind of fade into the background. We kept adding money.
A young guy kept eyeing one of our horses. He asked Lynn if the horse was strong. Lynn said he didn’t know, he’d never arm wrestled him. Lynn talked him into getting on. The guy came off quicker than a prom dress. Only the announcer had more taste than me so he never mentioned that.
We eventually got them all bucked but two. Three ambulance trips and no rides. And the best horses were left. I finally got them sold after the sale.
Then I went into the office to settle up. To see if the horse check was bigger than the bar tab. And it was. I mentioned to the sales manager that we would be back next year. He looked at me and in a southern drawl said, “If yawl’s comin’ back next year, see if you can bring your own riders. Ours is a little weak for those northern horses.”
Later,
Dean
Dean Meyer is a rancher from western North Dakota. His column, Hat Tips, which usually deals with the lighter side of ranch life, has appeared across North and South Dakota for twenty years. When not planting hay, putting up hay, or feeding hay, Dean enjoys teaching his grandkids bad habits.
My great Aunt Hazel passed away a few years ago, but on one of my last visits she showed me some hand-written pages. She was starting to put down some memories of her years growing up in Marshall County Minnesota. ”Maybe they might get published some day if somebody might think they were worth reading“. Well Aunt Hazel, I hope you don’t mind but I think the folks will enjoy reading some of your memories. Here’s Part 3
GRANDPA KNUTSON’S CANE AND PEPPERMINTS
“This is something I’ll always remember, when my older brother carved a diamond willow cane for my Grandfather Knutson, Jens told me to walk over to my Grandfather’s place and give it to him. He was so happy, he reached into his pocket and gave me one of his white peppermint candies. My Grandmother always had pink peppermint in her aprom pocket. I still have the cane here. Tillie gave it to me when she had an auction.”
MOONLIGHT CLARINET
“One of our neighbors played a clarinet. In the evening he would sit outside and play ‘When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain’ it really sounded pretty in the evening on a clear still night”
Curling Your Hair
“When I and my sisters grew up, to fix our hair with curls we had to use a curling iron that we put in the chimney of the kerosene lamps. to heat it and to put in the curls. We had to be real careful that it didn’t get to hot as it would burn our hair, so we tested in on a piece of paper”
More to come from Aunt Hazel.
Bob Harris
By The way Thank you for all the nice comments please keep them coming.
MAYVILLE, N.D. – Over the years, Elroy Lindaas spent many hours tossing hay in the loft of his barn.
For the last 20 summers, however, he’s found more enjoyable pursuits in the hayloft than swinging a pitchfork. Lindaas and fellow members of the aptly named group “The Hayshakers” have hosted 7-10 dances each summer, spreading joy while reviving a tradition.
Eighty to 100 people, coming from a radius of 100 miles, routinely attend the Saturday night shindigs. The twin attractions are the foot-tapping old-time music and nostalgia.
“It’s the romantic old charm of something out of the past,” Lindaas says about the attraction. “It gets the older crowd thinking back to the days of barn dances and house parties.”
The loft is 40 feet by 60 feet, providing a large plywood dance fl oor. It’s ringed by folding chairs and a collection of sofas, love seats, recliners and rockers in a mishmash of styles and
designs.
“When people have auction sales and the furniture doesn’t go, they bring it here,” Lindaas says with an approving nod. “Not much of it would be in style these days, but it works here.”
Few seats are empty, as about one-half of the crowd comes to listen to the collection of waltzes, polkas, a few country tunes. Th e others are on the dance fl oor, cutting a rug, as some
of them still say.
“It gets going pretty good up here,” Lindaas said.
The classic-look barn was built in 1949, mostly from lumber recycled from the family’s 1900-built barn. The raft ers reach about 25 feet off the loft floor.
The Janice and Elroy Lindaas family believes in preserving more than barns. Not only is the barn being used 20 years aft er they’ve had cattle, but part of their home is from the original homestead of 1878. “My dad and I were born in the same bedroom that I sleep in every night,” says Lindaas, a 72-year-old retired farmer. They also believe in preserving traditions and wholesome family fun. Everyone is welcome to attend the dances and everyone is welcome to join the band for a few numbers.
There is no admission charge. But when the fl oor needed repair, a hat was passed and the required $600 was collected. Guests bring cookies and bars to share. Although most are senior citizens, all ages are represented. Each dance lasts 3½ hours, ending at 11 p.m. The goal of preserving a family atmosphere is shown by its only rule – no alcoholic beverages.
It all started in 1989, when twin daughters Naomi and Roberta, then could hold a barn dance. Sure, dad said, if they cleaned up the loft . It took almost all summer, but the loft was ready for the record-spinning event. At that time, Lindaas was part of a group that “liked to jam and was
always looking for a place to play.” So, they set up in the newly clean loft .
“After a while, a few people started showing up with lawn chairs to listen,” he said. “Pretty soon, some started dancing. Word spread and it just progressed from there.”
The Hayshakers performances historically start on the first Saturday in June. Th e standard rule in the early years was if the temperature reached 50 degrees that day, there would be a dance that night. Recently, they have put out a formal schedule that has roughly two dances a month. The last event of the season was Sept. 19.
Lindaas said performing is fun, not work, for him and band mates Kenneth Aamold on bass guitar, James Flaten on harmonica, Jerome Braaten on the fiddle and Collin Wahl and Ray Roller on the accordion.
“Even if it’s some work, no one is enjoying it more than me,” says Lindaas, who plays the guitar.
“For me, it’s also the satisfaction of seeing people enjoying themselves. And they’re so appreciative for what we do.”
Article reprinted from the Nodak Neighbor Sept/Oct 2009
Chokecherry wine is on the way.
This morning at the state Capitol, the Billings County Historical Society turned over chokecherries collected by its members to the Maple River Winery.
The chokecherries will be used to make “Historical Medora Chokecherry Wine,” hoped to be ready for the Medora`s Old Fashioned Cowboy Christmas in December.
The Billings County Historical Society says the wine links North Dakota nature, agriculture, business, and tourism together to showcase the state.
“It`s doing very well for the Billings County museum in the fact that in 2007 we actually got 20 percent of our revenue that we used that year from the sale of the wine,” says Leona Odermann, of the Billings County Historical Society.
Between 500 and 750 bottles of wine are expected to be produced.
The tradition began in 2007 after the legislature made the chokecherry North Dakota`s official berry.
For more information listen to 790AM or visit www.kfgo.com
To comment on this blog, call 701-237-5948 or studio@kfgo.com
Hat Tips with Dean Meyer
Hello,
Man, am I glad we are into late fall. Because that means my farming days are pretty well done for the year. The harvest is running late, and last nights rain will have farmers pulling their last, thinning, gray hairs out.
I have put the sprayer away. And I suppose I should have drained everything, but then, what would you have to look forward to.
The drill is put away, although it looks like maybe the lid on the grain tank is open. Which doesn’t make a lot of difference. In fact, it may keep the mice from living in the drill if it is unprotected!
The harvested grain has been sold. Which, since we don’t have a granary, makes out marketing plan a simple one. Oh, I will admit, there was not a lot of grain. Usually, I figure if we get out seed back, we did pretty well. In spite of the drought, we did manage to get more than our seed back.
And our crop insurance agent was here last week. He has been here so much over the years, we are considering having him over with the rest of the family for Thanksgiving dinner.
This year I raised durum. Now, if you are a town guy, you might not know what durum is used for. It is the grain used in making pasta. And there are several grades of durum. Like No. 1 Hard Amber, Milling, or Terminal. And they talk about stuff like “falling numbers” or “bleached”.
Trust me, if you live in a drought area, and are determined to make it rain, you plant durum. It may not rain all summer, but two days before that No.1 HAD is ready to harvest, the skies will open up and God will bless you with a downpour! And I honestly think He will smile as that durum begins to lose color! But then, maybe I deserve it.
I used to raise malting barley. Cause I felt you should produce what you consume. My idea of a supper would be a plate heaped up with steak and macaroni. A bowl of beer cheese soup for an appetizer. And wash it all down with a mug of beer.
But, my malting barley days were also somewhat of a disaster.
I mentioned earlier that I don’t have a grain bin. Well, a little one to keep oats in for the horses, but that is about it.
So the year I harvested my malting barley, I just piled it on the ground. It was only going to be there a little while. I took a five-gallon bucket to an elevator. An elevator that was a hundred miles from the field. Cause he paid the most for malting barley. The results were outstanding. This was premium-malting barley.
I quickly called a trucker to fire that semi up and start hauling that malting barley. And he did. He called a couple other truckers and they cleaned that pile up in no time. We hauled that barley a hundred miles to Discount Dan.
A week later, I received the settlement sheet. The only barley that made malting was the five-gallon bucket Dad had hauled up! The rest was feed barley. Which I could buy back for twenty cents a more than I received for it. And the trucker would give me a ten percent discount on the back haul!
You can see why I look forward to winter!
Later, Dean
Dean Meyer is a rancher from western North Dakota. His column, Hat Tips, which usually deals with the lighter side of ranch life, has appeared across North and South Dakota for twenty years. When not planting hay, putting up hay, or feeding hay, Dean enjoys teaching his grandkids bad habits.
For more information listen to 790AM or visit www.kfgo.com
To comment on this blog, call 701-237-5948 or studio@kfgo.com
My great Aunt Hazel passed away a few years ago, but on one of my last visits she showed me some hand-written pages. She was starting to put down some memories of her years growing up in Marshall County Minnesota. ”Maybe they might get published some day if somebody might think they were worth reading“. Well Aunt Hazel, I hope you don’t mind but I think the folks will enjoy reading some of your memories. Here’s a couple of them right now.
On Washing Clothes in the Old Days
“My Mother was very lucky, when the Maytag washing machines came out with a gas engine on it, my father bought her one. That machine lasted for many years, but when electricity came through it was changed over to an electric motor. The hard part was that we always hung the clothes outside. They would freeze so stiff in the winter. The well water wasn’t very soft, so in the winter we would melt snow to wash clothes”
Riding in Dad’s Model T
“My Dad had some land in Mud Lake and I was so afraid riding in the old Model “T”. He wasn’t good to drive and we had to drive along a road made on the river bank. I was sure we would end up in the river.”
The Beauty of Winter
“I always thought it was so nice in the winter. I would go with my parents to Uncle Matt’s for Christmas. Dad would have a cutter and team of horses and had sleigh bells. It was so nice to hear the horses running and the sound of snow.
More to come from Aunt Hazel.
BH
photography by Kevin Tobosa
Joel Heitkamp kicked off Big Iron 2009 with a live broadcast from the KFGO Building at the West Fargo fairgrounds. Big Iron is scheduled to run through Thursday.
Hundreds of vendors turned out for this year’s event. Heavy machines, toy tractors, vehicles and many other ag related products are on display throughout the entire show.
Jack Sunday, from KFGO’s Jack and Sandy Show, took a little time away from his Big Iron broadcast to wet his whistle with a lemonade. Lemonade is just one of the many food and drink options at this year’s show. Footlongs, corndogs, walleye chunks, beer and many other “fair-style” foods are available in the food court.
People walking the show will walk away with gifts and sample products from many of the vendors. Some items of note are canvas bags, pens, sunflower seeds, popcorn and big ticket item giveaways.
With all the large machines and polesheds, the surface area of the event is quite large. This means to see the entire show, you may have to be on your feet for quite some time. For those who wish to see everything, but not necessarily walk it, there are trolleys and golf cart taxis located throughout the show.
Big Iron is one for all ages and genders. Early speculation is this year’s Big Iron will be the largest on record.
Many of the demonstrations are impressive and interesting, depending on your personal preferences.
People leaning up against a tractor, sitting on a picnic table or catching some shade were often seen as the sun produced one of the nicests days of the summer.
What is fun about Big Iron, is every so often something catches your eye and makes you stop to look.
To have your event considered for Man About Town, please email jason@kfgo.com
Jason Spiess is host of Night Time Live which airs from 7-10pm on KFGO AM on nights the Twins are not on. Jason also hosts Man About Town which airs this Saturday from 3-4pm on KFGO-AM. Jason can be reached at jason@kfgo.com. Jason can also be followed on Facebook.
