RIDING WITH THE LOCAL USED COW DEALER - 10

"Pen riding is a dangerous job,"

Steve said. "Every year somebody gets killed. Last year, two guys were killed."

"I caught double-pneumonia when I was riding pens," Steve said. "The doctor wanted to put me in the hospital. I said, 'No, you're not, I'm going back to work.' I got my pills and went back to work. Kinda stupid, really."

"The better the feedlot," Steve said, "the less they see me. Those guys riding pens don't get paid much. They make a living but they do it because they love it. If they did it for the money, they wouldn't be doing it."

"If a steer gets mad," Steve said, "it can go right under the horse, flip the horse over. It can ram the horse and knock it over, with you on it."

"When I was riding pens," he said, "I had one horse I'd take with me up to the office when I went to get a donut or something. I didn't have to tie him up, he knew when I came out he'd get a piece of donut. He'd wag his head if I didn't give him something right away. I still think about that horse. I liked him a lot. He's probably dead now."

11:50 a.m. "One more stop," Steve said, "then we're done. I'm current with what I need to pick-up today. Anything called in today, I'll pick up tomorrow."

"Boy," Steve said, shifting gears in the truck, "I like this power divider. It's like having four wheel drive back there." We were pulling into an awfully gooey farmyard. "In this mud, I'd never get back in there with my other trucks."

"Some farmers like to hide the dead stock," Steve said, to explain why he had to back in so far and away. "They'll put them clear back where it's difficult to get at them after a heavy rain. That's why I didn't come for this one yesterday. I knew it would be a mess."

12:03 p.m. "That's it," Steve said. We'd just picked up the last dead steer for the day. Then we headed down the lane towards the gravel road. There were feedlots off to our right. Steve pointed to a steer. "That one has hoof rot," he said. "See how he's favoring his right front. They better get him out or I'll get him. They better get him out and treat him."

12:15 p.m. We were on the highway, headed towards the rendering plant in Norfolk, Nebraska, to the northwest of us, to deliver the load. The phone rang. It was Steve's employee, who wasn't driving that day. "I'm done for the day," I heard Steve say. "I'm going through Stanton right now. I saved some for pick up tomorrow. I don't have a lot of them, but I saved some for tomorrow."

"It's probably going to get a little quieter now, with summer coming on," Steve said when he'd finished on the phone. "Along about August, it will get very busy again."

12:25 p.m. We've turned in the driveway at Darling International. "This is just about the biggest rendering company in the world," Steve said. A sign was posted right at the gate: "5 m.p.h."

We weighed on the long scale in the yard, then Steve jumped down out of the cab and walked to the office to deal with the paperwork. He lumbered off like a fellow not quite comfortable on the ground, like a guy who more comfortable up on a horse, or the cab of a truck. When he got back to the truck, he told me what he made on the load. "You have to deduct the cost of fuel and depreciation on the truck from that," he added. If someone else had been driving for him, he'd have to deduct the cost of wages, too.

To be continued....