Bruised, Not Broken
- June 21, 2026
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- Jan Swan Wood
Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life, Uncategorized
We branded last weekend. We worked the cows first and replaced a bunch of faded out ear tags and
poured them for flies. They worked hard, as cows sometimes do, probably because there were just too
many people around, most of whom they weren’t familiar with. Cows know their people and aren’t too
worried about them, but strangers are another thing. It wasn’t at my place so I couldn’t send anyone away. My grandsons still work under my authority and I made sure they were in the right place, but the friends of friends were not.
I was cutting the old tags out of the cows’ ears with my side cutters (the tag cutter was nowhere to be
found) and my daughter-in-law was installing small number tags in the other ear for backup i.d. while a
fellow senior citizen friend was putting the new tags in the old tag holes. We were working like
clockwork until one cow became a problem. She’s a big old girl and I suspect, not too bright at times. Too many people fried her circuitry until she was in a panic and simply couldn’t think anymore. Everyone was doing things to force her to go into the chute to no avail. Finally, I told them to back off and be quiet, in my soft Grandma voice of course. When she could think for a moment, she finally went into the chute and caught herself in the head catch. She was shaking and slobbering so I gave the order for EVERYONE to stand back and let her calm down. In a few minutes, only those of us who needed to be doing anything were allowed back into her line of sight.
She was settled some but still agitated when I reached to cut the old tag out. She’d sling her head and
I’d lose hold of her ear. We did this several times and I had gotten the button partly cut through when she threw her head up in the air and smashed my right hand against the head catch. Well dadgum, that smarted. My hand was paralyzed for a moment and I had to hand my cutters off to my old friend to get the tag out while I got my hand operational again.
I got a very dark “I told you so” look from my son who was horseback in the crowding pen and had told me to not do what I was doing as he didn’t want me to get hurt. My daughter-in-law was very concerned and grabbed a cold bottle of water out of the cooler to put on it. Of course, my hand swelled up instantly like I’d been snakebit. My old friend said he’d finish the tagging while I went and sat down.
Hummmph. Sit down indeed. I drank part of the bottle of water and by the time the next cow was in the head catch, I’d wrestled my side cutters away from him and resumed my job. It wasn’t broken, just sore and swollen and my fingers were working just fine.
About 40 years ago it was actually broken by a scur horned cow in a headcatch when I was tagging her. I know what broken is and what bruised is. It was bruised to a fine plum color, but not damaged. We
finished the job and we moved on to brand calves.
I had to hold the branding irons more carefully as only one glove would fit, but I managed just fine.
Getting injured happens. It’s not like it’s an exclusive experience for the old and clumsy. My young folks
don’t know how important it is to still be able to do at least some of the things I used to do. So much is
out of my reach anymore that having a job I can do is welcome, even with a bit of injury thrown in. At
least I was doing some REAL and didn’t hurt myself doing something mundane and ridiculous.
The swelling is gone now and the plum color has turned to a sickly yellow on the top of my hand while the fingers are still purple halfway down. It may sound silly, but it’s kind of a badge of honor. Some of you will know what I mean.
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Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life, Uncategorized
About Jan Swan Wood
Jan was raised on a ranch in far western South Dakota. She grew up horseback working all descriptions of cattle, plus sheep and horses. After leaving home she pursued a post-graduate study of cowboying and dayworking in Nebraska, New Mexico, Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota....