We’ve all seen the setting.
In the distance are purplish
tolored hills, rising above rolling,
grassy pastureland. Clouds of
puffy white float through the
deep-blue sky.
And dust begins to rise across
this pastoral scene.
TTien the TV or movie camera
pans to the side, where a herd of
spotlessly clean reddish-brown
and white Hereford cattle—or
maybe picturesque Longhorns—
comes loping around a hillside.
Flanking the streaming herd of
bawling cows and calves is the
most romantic symbol of the old
West.
Cowboys. Sitting tall in their
saddles, astride beautiful, muscu
lar horses of chestnut brown,
palomino gold or striking pintos
of black and white. Cowboys who
rarely lose their broad-brimmed
hats —who gracefully switch
directions on a dime to nudge
along the independent-spirited
cow lagging behind —who effort
lessly lob a lasso that falls in
place the first time on the neck of
the errant calf headed for trouble.
Cowboys. We’d all like to be
one.
There are still real working
cowboys who do all that on real
working ranches. And not only in
the West, but on some places here
closer in the East. And a popular
vacation for some adventurous
folks is to go spend several days
on a working ranch geared to
such visitors, where for the cost
of room, board and a dependable
horse, you can help with the
roundups. Saddle sores are just
part of the experience.
We have our own resident
cowboy. Of sorts. He nearly ’ran
over me a few nights ago headed
out for the roundup.
Leaning over to wash and prep
a cow for milking, I quickly
pulled back into safety the part of
me that was slightly protruding
out into the center -alley of the
barn, as he barreled by on his
steed. A breeze stirred in his
wake and bits of sawdust, flung
into the air by his passage, settled
back onto the floor.
There were four new baby
calves scattered around the
maternity pasture. Earlier, we’d
herded their mamas in for their
first trip through the milking pro
cedure after calving. With moth-
ers settled into the milking herd,
now the babies would be moved
to the safety of the calf nursery.
Momentarily, he returned with
the first black and white baby. No
herding on foot for these day-old
calves. This little heifer calmly
lay across his lap, back legs fold
ed under her, forelegs extended.
Her head was up, ears perked and
eyes wide, seeming to enjoy the
trip in from the meadow on the
three-wheeler.
Not all calves are so coopera
tive about being rounded up ih
our resident-cowboy, three
wheeler style. Often they squirm
and wiggle, creating difficulty
with holding the calf while also
Plants
Here’s some good news for
weary summer waterers: Plants
probably aren’t as thirsty as they
used to be.
Plants need carboo dioxide
(C0 2 ) to grow. It acts on them
just like a fertilizer. To get C0 2
from the atmosphere, plants open
tiny holes called stomates in their
leaves. These same openings let
water escape from the plant.
But today’s higher atmospher
ic C0 2 levels mean the plants
don’t have to open their stomates
quite so wide, so less water is
wasted, according to U.S. Depart
ment of Agriculture scientist Her
man S. Mayeux Jr.
Mayeux and co-workers are
finding this in experiments, grow
ing plants in varying C0 2 levels.
They range from the approxi
mately 200 parts per million
(ppm) of the Ice Age to today’s
approximately 360 ppm and the
700 to 1,000 ppm expected in the
future.
In one test, the researchers
Lancaster Farming, Saturday, October 1, 1994-B7
steering the “horse.” Some
protest-vocally and loud. On
occasion, one will escape and run
away like a deer. Once in awhile,
a nervous one will leave our cow
boy with a slightly wet lap.
But retrieving calves is just
one of the many uses we make for
our three-wheeled horse, one of
the hardest-used pieces of equip
ment on the # place. It’s invaluable
for real roundup work, when the
cows knock over a gate or the
heifers discover that a rainstorm
has shorted out the electric fence
and they are free, free, free to go
“explore.”
Need Less Water
planted a rangeland brush species
called acacia in rooms where C0 2
levels were 350, 700 or 1,000
ppm. The acacia in 1,000 ppm of
C0 2 grew nearly five times as
much as the plant in 350 ppm—
but it used no more water than the
350 ppm plant.
In another experiment,
Mayeux and colleagues Hyrum
B. Johnson and H. Wayne Policy
grew wheat in a specially con
structed growth chamber in
which flowing air’s C0 2 content
gradually decline from 350 ppm
to 200 ppm.
“At the 200 ppm like that of
the Ice Age, the plants did very
poorly and required twice as
much water to grow the same
amount of forage or grain,” Pol
icy said. “As C0 2 increased from
This mount is handy for jump
ing on to ride to the fields to
check hay or emerging stands of
corn, to repair breakdowns, haul
tools, move bags of feed' and
bales of hay. You never have to
stop before an urgent heifer
roundup to fasten a saddle or
brush it down after a late-night
maternity pasture check. And,
frankly, a flat tire is more easily
replaced than a lame foot.
On the other hand, how many
horseback cowboys have to fight
spider colonies homesteading
within the front-end steering
mechanism?
the Ice Age levels to modern lev ■
els, the wheat’s seed yeild
tripled.”
Johnson said plant’s more effi
cient use of water in higher C0 2
could explain how brush has
spread across the American
range. Photographs of Western
rangeland in the 1800 s show
much less brushy vegetation than
is present today.
“Carbon dioxide levels a hun
dred years ago were about 280
parts per million,” Johnson point
ed out. “The rising CO z levels
over the past century have meant
that plants could proliferate on
part of the range that formerly
was too dry.” (Agricultural
Research Service, U.S. Depart
ment of Agriculture)
Tlw