It’s called a “Senior Experience”, meaning, in your senior year of college, you voluntarily have an “experience” doing something a little bit, or a lot, not of the usual college offering, off-campus, sometimes local, sometimes far away. Needing a break from my dorm mates, I chose the far-away variety, and for the past month, have worked as a ranch-hand on a 15,000 acre spread in southern Montana. It’s called the Open Circle ranch, which I think (applying my psychological skepticism) is a reference to the fact that this ranch has the highest percentage of female ranch hands than any other in the midwest.
Never boring, my time here has allowed me to learn some useful and some not-so useful skills that I can transfer to real-life. Riding a horse and learning about raising crops has been fun; mending fences and branding cattle—-not so much. I find the branding kind of mean, although I get the need for it. Why not just use a Sharpie marker, for God’s sake? Anyway, the MOST entertaining thing about being here (read: NO wi-fi!!!) are two of my bunkmates, Erin and Kat. Although both college-age, this is NOT their senior experience. They’re real-lifers, and working at the Open Circle is their career, at least right now it is.
They both started a few weeks before I arrived, and I am told that there was an instant and mutual dislike. Sniping at each other, ultra-competitive, doing anything each can to cozy-up to the foreman, Jeff, and obtain a preferred chore or a day off, or just some special attention from Jeff. Among the highlights, I had heard that Kat had massaged Erin’s saddle with olive oil one morning, and when she went to mount, she slid right over the side and onto her ass in front of the other hands. And I witnessed Erin scooping manure into Kat’s boots, so that when she slipped her feet in, well, ‘nuff said.
Things escalated quickly, and while most of the hands were amused with the Kat-Erin spat, the fight did start to affect their work. It came to a head yesterday afternoon, where some nudging turned into some pushing, which turned into some hard shoves, which turned into Erin cracking her palm across Kat’s cheek! “That’s IT!” roared Jeff, grabbing each girl by the back of the shirt and tossing them to each side. “Settle this! i don’t care how, but settle it! And if you can’t, I WILL, and my way’ll mean two unemployed bitches!” Work around these parts was scarce, and jobs were like gold, so that got their attention.
It was an easy fix, at least for the two brooding blondes it was. They agreed to meet in the Southern Fields barn this morning, before the workday started, to settle things once and for all. It was to be a fight to the finish—-win by knock-out or verbal submission, and the loser would offer her immediate resignation. Both girls asked me to get things ready—I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Popcorn? Invite the press? Instead, I get here a little early and spread a thick blanket of fresh straw on the main floor, figuring it would provide a little cushion if one got slammed down or something. A couple of bottles of water if they need them, small milking stools in opposite corners of the floor, and I mentally applaud myself on a job well done as I wait for their arrivals.
The Doll (Kat)
5'3" 130 lbs 18 y.o.
Erin Lee5'6" 110 lbs 19 y.o.
