Ed Duren’s Hall of Fame Career By Bill Corbett When I first saw Edward Paul Duren sitting at his desk in the University of Idaho’s Caribou County Agricultural Extension Office, my initial thought was, “I didn’t know the
Across the Deepest Canyon By Pete Wilson In early spring of 1953, my Uncle Allen and Aunt Hazel needed to have a small herd of horses moved across the Snake River in Hells Canyon. They had sold their
But Where Did It Land? Story and Photos by Carolyn White The snow was knee-high and each step was a struggle. Pausing to catch my breath, I muttered, “Okay, I give up. Where’d you drop it, Ray?” Half-blinded
A prominent mountain northeast of Mountain Home, seen on the left as you pass through the outskirts of town on I-84 eastbound, bears the name Bennett Mountain. Scores of my cousins and second cousins and their children recount with pride that the mountain was named for Richard Bennett, our ancestor.
I grew up in Mountain Home and don’t remember any of the locals or family members ever questioning the origin of the mountain’s name. It was named after my great-grandfather who ran sheep there a hundred and thirty-five years ago . . . or was it? Continue reading
My friend Regina and I hang back a bit from Owyhee County rancher Paul Nettleton and his hands. As long-time endurance riders, we don’t quite fit in with the ranching crowd: we’re riding Arabians, and our horses wear endurance saddles. Continue reading
Some of my fondest memories are of riding my horse through the sagebrush on our family ranch, which sat between Shoshone and Richfield. Recently, when I went back to visit our ranch, I flashed on images of my father walking down a dirt path next to the Little Wood River wearing a white shirt, straw cowboy hat, and a shovel perched on his right shoulder. Continue reading
As I made my way to the band, I consoled myself. You’ve done the right thing. You’ve done the right thing. Hector would have abandoned the lamb, too. Continue reading
Here’s an image of the upper sheep pasture of our property near Challis. When I drove there on a recent evening to feed our Pyrenees guard dogs, Benny and Bobby, I discovered a ewe off by herself suffering from mastitis. Continue reading
I’ll wager few things were or are more important to Idaho farmers and ranchers than their water rights. Cattle might be stolen, or money, even wives or lady friends, but water theft has often carried dire consequences, including death. Following is a case in point from my own family history.
My father grew up in Lund. Although he moved to Utah, started a business in Salt Lake City, and raised his family there, he often said, “You can take a kid out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the kid.” He dreamed of moving back to Idaho one day and buying a farm or small ranch. After almost twenty-six years in Utah, he enlisted the help of my mother’s uncle, who was then living in Hagerman, to locate and purchase a small ranch on the bank of the Snake River west of Wendell. Continue reading
Shortly after World War II, strange things began happening in the northern Idaho woods where I was raised. Each spring, bands of sheep began showing up in our logging community of Headquarters, deep in the Clearwater National Forest.
They temporarily blocked traffic on the roads and we occasionally ran into flocks in the mountain meadows while riding our horses. We grumbled, “Who in bleep would bring all those sheep out in the woods and turn ‘em loose with all our wild animals? Why, they’ll just eat up all the grass, and our deer and elk won’t have anything left to eat. They’ll bleep in our cricks, kill all the fish and besides that, they stink!”
Backwoods sentiment on the subject ran rampant. Of course, as a young buck I got sucked into the local opinion against the sheep. At the time, we had no idea that permission had been granted by the Clearwater Timber Protective Association in Orofino to bring in the flocks for summer grazing.
One day, while riding through the woods on my horse Ribbons, I came upon a meadow full of sheep. The sheepherder was congenial and invited me to sit and talk awhile. He explained how he and the dogs took care of the sheep out in the woods. Years later, I learned these particular sheep belonged to Hi Hood, a rancher who had shipped bands of sheep on the Camas Prairie Railroad up through Orofino Creek to the Hollywood Stock Pens near Pierce. There, they were divided into smaller bands and driven with the aid of sheep dogs into the surrounding meadows. The sheep were kept moving so as to not strip all the vegetation and were kept away from the streams except to drink. Continue reading
