Teamwork while cutting and sorting

I recently watched a video of a horse cutting cows without a rider. It reminded me of the time I participated in a cow cutting/sorting contest in Santa Ynez Valley as a complete novice. I did know how to ride a horse, since I’d been riding horses since I was a child, but nothing dealing with cows.

Once I arrived at the Lone Star Ranch (as it was called back then), Marty Greenman, 2001 president of the Valley Penning Association, showed me around the arena. The air was a cloud of dust as VPA members warmed up their horses. Approximately 150 feet in length and 100 feet wide, the arena was sliced into two sides by an invisible foul line — the judges’ line — that ran between flags posted on the arena’s fence.

In essence, team sorting involves a team of three riders, which has 90 seconds to herd cattle, one by one across the judge’s line in numerical order, starting with a number that is reveled to them once the clock starts running.

Greenman introduced me to two women who were more than happy to take on a greenhorn for the day: Melinda Klinger and Gaye Menneke.

I also met Willy Chamberlin, a larger than life rancher who had won enough first place sterling silver belt buckles to fill a barn. A big barn! Chamberlin said, “Sorting is simple. An action by you and your horse causes a reaction in the cattle. In working cattle, time and space are your friends. Allow the animal to get away from you in the direction you want him to go.”

“You’ll understand it more after the practice,” Greenman advised me.

In the arena, Greenman, pointing to a handsome Lone Star Ranch gelding waiting for me for the practice session. Trainer Tom Shelly, a lean cowboy whose face was tanned to the color of rich leather, held my horse as I hoisted myself into the saddle.

Greenman a feigned look of shock on his face said, “You’re not letting her ride Suicide, are you?”

Both men laughed uproariously as I nearly fell off the saddle. The fact that they later told me Suicide’s real name was Roy comforted me…somewhat.

I rode Suicide in a practice round with my two teammates. When I directed Suicide to go one way (a way he definitely did not want to go), to cut out a cow from the herd, he let me know in a very definite way that he didn’t want to go that way…he tried to buck me off!

But I stayed on and we went after the cow that Suicide

wanted to go after, which was the cow we were supposed to cut. So, we quickly began to trust each other. Or rather: I realized my horse knew what to do more than I did.

During a series, each team gets two “goes” or rides. An individual can ride on two teams as long as she/he rides with different teammates. One symptom of “team sorting fever” is wanting as many “goes” as possible. That means being on more than one team, which means another entry fee. Team sorting is not cheap. Someone has to pay for the cattle and those buckles.

I asked Trainer Shelly about the price of horses (in 2001) and he said, “A decent horse starts at $8,000 and a darn good one will run you $15,000, then there’s the feed, the barn, vet fees, saddle, bridle, assorted tack and of course the truck and trailer to haul it.”

The day before the Series, I showed up and rousted Suicide from his pasture, for a good brush and wash. Just as I was about to douse Suicide with water, the ranch foreman came out of his place and yelled to me, “Wrong horse!”

So much for bonding with my steed.

On the first day of the Series, I entered the arena and joined my teammates, Klinger and Menneke., who both said, “We’re going for the buckle!”