Legend has it that back before Juniper Mountain was chopped up by allotment boundary fences the cattlemen from that era camped here between the Lowry ranch and the Circle Bar. This old camp site is really close to the Oregon/Idaho border although I doubt they would have known that at the time. I’m assuming this had to have been around the late 1800s. This isn’t the remaining chimney of a burnt down house as it would appear but actually some kind of cooking or camp heat deal. Alot of the rocks have fallen down so it’s difficult to see what it looked like originally. As kids, anytime We were trailing cattle through here Dad would point it out and tell us kids the back story. This big ol juniper tree, he explained has notches cut out on an upper limb where the meat hooks were placed so they wouldn’t slide. Also the long lower limb is missing all the bark because the lead rope of the wrangle horse slid back and forth on it for many years. If you know anything about juniper trees you understand they drink ALOT of water and basically choke every other form of vegetation out with their shallow horizontal root system. Because they are so detrimental to the grass, ranchers and both state and federal governments allow for cutting and burning of juniper. Much of this area has been clear cut. I greatly appreciate our neighbors, The Moores for leaving this old tree and it’s rich history of early ranching on Juniper Mountain.
I like to ponder what it must have been like then. What kind of horses did they ride, how did they dress, where did they take their beef to market, what did those ol steers taste like? It would be really cool to hang with them for afew days as long as I could get back in my time machine as I know fully well they had to have been tuff as leather. There’s been lots of documentation of the history of Indians in this area. I wish someone would write about early ranching in the Jordan Valley and surrounding areas because much of the important information is being lost over time. next month, have faith and stay positive!
"'Ole Sweetheart"
This ‘ole sweetheart and I go way back. Sometime around 2011 Myself, Jake Ward and Sheena Quillen caught her on Carol Summit on a foggy morning with a bunch of other ‘ole renegades. We had a forty foot aluminum trailer parked on a blind corner with rim rock on one side, a deep ravine on the other and a few panels across the highway. With momentum and luck, we got them loaded. She was a full grown adult cow, I guessed her to have been 5 years old back then. We relocated her from the Desatoya to the Clan Alpine range thinking she might get easier to handle if she didn’t know every tree, rock outcropping and trail. She quickly proved us wrong. We didn’t see her again until we started using the chopper to help gather, maybe in 2015. We got her calves branded and weaners and yearlings weaned and let her go.
Clay Stremler got her gathered off the mountain a couple years in Dixie Valley and got her offspring worked and weaned. We got her off the mountain with the chopper in 2022 but town cowboys let her give them the slip. We haven’t seen her since and I assumed she winter killed as she has to be 18 years old now.
However, Emily spotted her today on the mountain and sent me this picture. Makes my day to see she’s still alive and wandering the rough country. There isn’t a spring, a seep, or a trail she doesn’t know in these 15 miles of mountain range. I’ve had several cowboys ask me why I didn’t haul her to town when we had her roped or corraled. I just couldn’t bring myself to see a cow like her get on a truck and head off to a packing plant. She has earned her right to stay free until she lays down under her favorite juniper tree and doesn’t get up. Much respect to the myth, the legend, the old Romangnola-Cross. Imagine how many cows you could run on these Nevada 12 month ranches if you owned cows like her. When I hear limbs snapping, rocks rattling, smell dust in the air, and my heart skips a beat; I’ll know it’s her headed straight off some steep mountain with her tail over her back and 3 years of calf crops trying to keep up.
Written by: Jack Payne 8/2024
Photo Credit: Emily Payne
The Great White Cowboy
Written by Jack Payne on a cold day at East Gate, Nevada. November 2020
The Great White Cowboy
The Great White Cowboy showed up sometime in the night, hoping he is here to help with our mountain cow fight.
Not sure what time he got in, like usual he didn’t make a sound, we were pleasantly surprised at daybreak to see him laying around.
I shouldn’t say he was laying around as a matter of fact, he was saddled and ready at dawn. It doesn’t take him two hours like some, to get his cowboy costume on.
He’s an unreliable cuss, sometimes we think he clearly forgot about us.
We never know if he will be early or late in the fall, hell there’s been plenty of years he never showed up at all.
It’s been a record dry year, only moisture is a cold beer.
It’s been the driest one I can remember, these ‘ole cows don’t know if it’s June or December.
Even the top hands look at a track, can’t tell if it was made yesterday, or six weeks back.
So around and around the mountain we go, following dusty cow tracks and praying for one good snow.
Today the Great White Cowboy showed his face, the tracks are all headed down hill and they seem to be in a race.
We been sixty days on the mountain hunting under every rock, six inches of fresh snow and we got 500 head by 1 o’clock.
His cowboy skills I should take time to admire, but all I can think about is a warm fire.
This year he seems extra cold and bitter, but on the bright side he can ride any shitter.
He won’t help us get out of debt, but it’s sure fun watching him catch the wild ones like butterflies in a net.
I sure don’t want to sound ungrateful for the work he has done today, I’m just nervous about how long he plans to stay, because he strikes me as the cowboy type who thinks he’s to good to pitch hay.