Herding Sheep and Goats

A neighbor further up into the woods had a herd of goats. He was a recluse, and they called him Lazuras (we called him Lazo). He was bushy haired with a white beard, and he even let his goats in his house. He was taken away eventually, and my mother bid $50 on fifty of his goats and got them. Fifty goats with all of our sheep made for a pretty big herd. We had them penned in around the apple trees and the goats ate everything in site. One billy was the smelliest animal you've ever smelled. He had huge horns, which were sawed off, and the ointment that had to be put on to stop them from growing, some of which got into his eye, which blinded him. He later on was not needed and he had to be butchered. That task fell on me and John. I don't really like goat meat, but we never let anything go to waste.

To feed the goats and sheep, it was necessary for them to be herded out into the woods to eat the grass. Donald and I had that job. We would take the dogs, one named Eddie and the other was a stray named Prince. They loved chasing chipmunks, and we'd do the same. We'd run them up the tree, the chipmunks would jump down and the dogs would chase them around on the ground. Sometimes we'd catch them and bring them home and I'd make a cage out of an apple box with a screen on it. The chipmunk would be running 'round and 'round on the screen trying to get out. They bit bad - I'm not sure how I didn't end up with rabies!

So, we'd take the goats and sheep up into the woods. My mother always said when they laid down they were full, and we could bring them home. But we wanted to play in the yard, so we'd never let them get their fill. One time we heard the dogs barking and I yelled, "Sic 'em! Sic 'em!" to Eddie, thinking it was a bear. I went to find out what it was and it turned out it was a goat, which Eddie killed. We had to go down and tell my mother about the goat, which was eventually butchered, but we weren't allowed to take the dogs with us any more. We were sad, because they were safety for us - one time they chased a bear up a tree. I could see the big bear and it's claws around the tree. I ran down to get Ma and she brought her gun, but by the time we got back it had scampered off.

We roamed a long way with the goats and sheep. The other sheep herders clear from Yakima would bring their herds all the way through the valley, eating all of the grass, which made it tough for our cows. The cattlemen and sheepmen hated each other because of that. Now and then, a sheep would leave the Yakima herd, maybe it got chased off by a coyote, and if it escaped, it'd be all by itself until it found us and our herd. We'd inherit it, and we didn't know who the brand belonged to, so Ma would pick it off.

The other problem that sheepmen had was those Roslynites, they'd hide in the brush and leap out and grab a sheep from the herd, and steal it. It was one of the sheep herders hazards. Actually, years later at Grandview, a little guy came by our place to buy some hay. He resembled my dad and had an accent. He was a Basque who owned the Yakima Sheep Company. We got to talking and he put his finger on my chest, pointing at me, when I told him I was from the Roslyn/Cle Elum area, demanding, "Did you steal my sheep?" with this thick accent. Luckily I was able to tell him no!

Another neighbor boy was really good on their Arabian horse. That horse was swift as the dickens. He stole a lot of sheep. He'd run that horse beside the herd, where the herder couldn't shoot him with their 30/30 guns. He'd be bare back, like an Indian, and reach down and grab a sheep and pull it up on the horse with him and gallop off.

Herding sheep was perhaps one of the most boring jobs.