Horses, hills and the Ogallala Aquifer

From the time my brother and I could walk, it seems as if we were riding horses. Some of them were big horses, and some were small. We rode them around the house where we lived and out in the meadows. We rode them in the washouts and hills north of Mom and Dad's house, seven miles outside Arthur, Nebraska -- population 175. We played cowboys and Indians and everything else on our horses.

Some of them were gentle and super nice, while some were spoiled rotten and ornery on a good day. Stripy and Shorty were nice horses. The spotted mare from Dale was ornery and cantankerous. But we rode them. Mick was the better rider, and probably the braver. He would ride about anything.

Mom and Dad had a fairly small place with about two sections or around 1,200 acres. My grandpa's place was even smaller, with him owning one section, or exactly one square mile of ground. Dad had enough ground that Mick and I could have a blast looking and searching and playing on it.

But as we got older, we found out 1,200 acres just wasn't that much ground. We had ridden it all and knew every dip in the ground or holler or hill and ditch. We knew where the cows most likely would be when we went looking for them. And it didn't take all that long to ride a mile or two on horseback. So we needed more ground.

The Triangle or Meyers had the ground. Both the north and south sides of Dad's ground were owned by the Meyers. The Meyers branded all their cattle with a triangle, so we simply called it the Triangle. I don't know how much land was south of Dad's, but there must have been 10 or 15 sections. There was probably the same amount north of Dad's, and a whole bunch off east of that. In total, the Triangle had about 52 sections, give or take a few. This was the home ranch.

Mick and I'd saddle up and head southwest of Dad's. We'd come to a barbed-wire gate, which one of us would open. There were times it took both of us, if there wasn't a cheater to help open the gate. Meyers knew Dad, as did Jack Ressigue and later Mert, so there wasn't a problem with us going exploring. And explore we did.

There were blowouts or big sandy spots where we could tie up our horses and look for arrowheads. There were hills where we could search for a den of coyotes. There were hills to climb and places to look. There were a few bunches of trees that settlers had planted. Their sod houses had long since disappeared, and about all that was left were some pieces of wood and such. But it was fun looking.

Off southeast of Dad's there were the remains of a plane that crashed right at the crest of a hill. About all that was left was the motor and some scraps. One time we found an old shoe. Most of those on board died. Seems like one made it out and his parachute worked. Another jumped, but his chute didn't open.

North of Dad's was K.C. Lake. We didn't fish it for years. Mom and Dad told us a guy had drowned in it, and, by the time they found him, the bullheads were helping themselves. But we rode around it and even in it at times. Several miles north of that was San Puddin. It had some of the best bullheads in it.

I can't remember taking something to eat with us. I know there must have been times when we missed a meal. When we got thirsty, we'd find a windmill. There were windmills all over the ranch. We'd drink the water the windmill was pumping if the wind was blowing.

Some of the best water in the world, bar none. You might think you have good water, but until you drink water out of the Ogallala Aquifer, you have missed out. But if the wind wasn't blowing and you were desperate for a drink, then you drank out of the tank just like the cows did. Tasted pretty good when you were bone dry.

Dad never seemed to worry about us in the least. He probably checked on us when he could and just figured we would be OK when he couldn't. Mom probably worried herself sick, but it didn't do much good. There were places to go and things to do.

I don't know what kids do today. City kids play sports or sit doing computer games or such; seems like about all there is. Some of the farm kids or country kids have a little more opportunity for a childhood, but most kids don't. Most kids today grow up in an apartment or house in some town, and I wonder what they do. I'd have gone crazy.

A friend of ours brought their grandkids out where we live, close to Scott City; we have a small place with several acres. When they got the grandkids out of the car, all they wanted to do was run and run and run. They didn't really have a destination in mind; they just wanted to run.

If you have kids or grandkids, how about taking them where there are wide open spaces where they can run and run? Where they can be kids and just explore. Maybe you as an adult need some of this, too!

Until next time.