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<blockquote data-quote="Idaman" data-source="post: 775939" data-attributes="member: 14119"><p>The first summer we were at Empire we spent a lot of time just exploring the ranch to see where things were and get a feel of how we might use the different areas. One of those areas was Magee Flats. Magee was about 5 miles south of the house and at a lower elevation but not right down on the Frazer River. It was dry, hot, and had almost no stock water so cattle seldom drifted down there. There was a road down there but it was steep, narrow and very dangerous. In twelve years I only took one 4x4 pickup and one small Ford tractor down there to put in oilers for the paralytic ticks. On the way out the pickup broke a universal joint and had to sit there until we could go to town and get the part and then put it in on the hill where it broke. The tractor almost jumped off of the road and one of us had to ride on the hood to get enough balance to get it back up out of there. There were two heads of hair standing on end after that episode.</p><p></p><p>During that first summer I began to get curious about the Flat so one day I rode down on a horse. As I was wandering around the flat all of a sudden a bull came from seemingly nowhere and charged the horse. The horse was a smart little cow horse and danced out of the way with no harm done. The bull immediately spun around and had at us again. This time we took off at a good speed and quickly out ran the bull. After a couple hundred yards we slowed down and looked back at the bull but he was still coming as fast as he could after us. He couldn't travel very fast as he was horribly bench kneed and couldn't really run. We went on up the trail for about a quarter mile before we stopped this time but he was still coming as fast as he could. This went on for about two or three miles until he finally gave up. He was a purebred bull from a very reputable breeder and actually belonged to the lady who had the ranch before us. I would guess the bull to have been 5 or 6 years old. The same thing happened every time a rider went into that area so we decided that the bull had to go. Since he belonged to the prior owner I didn't feel free to just shoot him so I called her and explained the situation. Of course she wanted nothing to do with him but said that she would like to have the meat. I said that we would see just what we could do.</p><p></p><p>A few days later a couple of the Indian cowboys and I decided to go down and get the bull. We took a tractor over to above where the road got bad and then rode the horses down to find the bull or more correctly carefully let the bull find us. Sure enough he spotted us and came running. We knew that we could out run him easily so we stayed just far enough ahead to be safe and yet tantalize him to keep after us. Sure enough he kept up the chase clear up to where the tractor was parked and then we shot him there. We hooked a chain around his horns and dragged him back to the house where we skinned and quartered him and hung the quarters in the cool room. I called the lady and in a day or so she showed up to claim her meat. I told her that we should at least give some to the cowboys to which she agreed. That carcass sure wasn't the prettiest and I wanted no part of it. I knew the Indians didn't either as we supplied them all of their meat but they were always looking for dog food and this bloodshot meat was just what the dogs loved.</p><p></p><p>I have been around wild cattle all of my life and I classify them into categories. There are the wild ones that just want to get away, the wild mean ones that will come and get you and then there are the tame ones that are mean and will get you unexpectedly. These last ones I hate the most because they aren't afraid of you and don't give any warnings.</p><p></p><p>My dad had a very good horse killed right under him by a neighbor's wild mean bull. The sharp end of the bull's horn cut the heel of dad's boot just under the spur before goring the horse. These bulls were the worst because they were totally wild, mean, and very fast and agile.</p><p></p><p>Several years later in the spring when we used that area for yearlings the Indian cowboys rode down there nearly every day looking for cattle that had the paralytic ticks. I noticed that they were very faithful in riding that area nearly every day. One day I noticed them all carrying binoculars which seemed strange. After asking around the crew some it came out that the hippies from down the river liked to use a sand bar right under Magee Flats for their "all natural sunbathing". That's where they were going so faithfully and just lying on their stomachs and peering over the edge of the cliff to watch what was below. Even the members of the crew who never rode horses suddenly developed an interest in horses and riding. Of course binoculars were at a premium around there, especially the more powerful ones. You can imagine their glee when they found out I had a 50x spotting scope that I would loan them occasionally.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Idaman, post: 775939, member: 14119"] The first summer we were at Empire we spent a lot of time just exploring the ranch to see where things were and get a feel of how we might use the different areas. One of those areas was Magee Flats. Magee was about 5 miles south of the house and at a lower elevation but not right down on the Frazer River. It was dry, hot, and had almost no stock water so cattle seldom drifted down there. There was a road down there but it was steep, narrow and very dangerous. In twelve years I only took one 4x4 pickup and one small Ford tractor down there to put in oilers for the paralytic ticks. On the way out the pickup broke a universal joint and had to sit there until we could go to town and get the part and then put it in on the hill where it broke. The tractor almost jumped off of the road and one of us had to ride on the hood to get enough balance to get it back up out of there. There were two heads of hair standing on end after that episode. During that first summer I began to get curious about the Flat so one day I rode down on a horse. As I was wandering around the flat all of a sudden a bull came from seemingly nowhere and charged the horse. The horse was a smart little cow horse and danced out of the way with no harm done. The bull immediately spun around and had at us again. This time we took off at a good speed and quickly out ran the bull. After a couple hundred yards we slowed down and looked back at the bull but he was still coming as fast as he could after us. He couldn’t travel very fast as he was horribly bench kneed and couldn’t really run. We went on up the trail for about a quarter mile before we stopped this time but he was still coming as fast as he could. This went on for about two or three miles until he finally gave up. He was a purebred bull from a very reputable breeder and actually belonged to the lady who had the ranch before us. I would guess the bull to have been 5 or 6 years old. The same thing happened every time a rider went into that area so we decided that the bull had to go. Since he belonged to the prior owner I didn’t feel free to just shoot him so I called her and explained the situation. Of course she wanted nothing to do with him but said that she would like to have the meat. I said that we would see just what we could do. A few days later a couple of the Indian cowboys and I decided to go down and get the bull. We took a tractor over to above where the road got bad and then rode the horses down to find the bull or more correctly carefully let the bull find us. Sure enough he spotted us and came running. We knew that we could out run him easily so we stayed just far enough ahead to be safe and yet tantalize him to keep after us. Sure enough he kept up the chase clear up to where the tractor was parked and then we shot him there. We hooked a chain around his horns and dragged him back to the house where we skinned and quartered him and hung the quarters in the cool room. I called the lady and in a day or so she showed up to claim her meat. I told her that we should at least give some to the cowboys to which she agreed. That carcass sure wasn’t the prettiest and I wanted no part of it. I knew the Indians didn’t either as we supplied them all of their meat but they were always looking for dog food and this bloodshot meat was just what the dogs loved. I have been around wild cattle all of my life and I classify them into categories. There are the wild ones that just want to get away, the wild mean ones that will come and get you and then there are the tame ones that are mean and will get you unexpectedly. These last ones I hate the most because they aren’t afraid of you and don’t give any warnings. My dad had a very good horse killed right under him by a neighbor’s wild mean bull. The sharp end of the bull’s horn cut the heel of dad’s boot just under the spur before goring the horse. These bulls were the worst because they were totally wild, mean, and very fast and agile. Several years later in the spring when we used that area for yearlings the Indian cowboys rode down there nearly every day looking for cattle that had the paralytic ticks. I noticed that they were very faithful in riding that area nearly every day. One day I noticed them all carrying binoculars which seemed strange. After asking around the crew some it came out that the hippies from down the river liked to use a sand bar right under Magee Flats for their “all natural sunbathing”. That’s where they were going so faithfully and just lying on their stomachs and peering over the edge of the cliff to watch what was below. Even the members of the crew who never rode horses suddenly developed an interest in horses and riding. Of course binoculars were at a premium around there, especially the more powerful ones. You can imagine their glee when they found out I had a 50x spotting scope that I would loan them occasionally. [/QUOTE]
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