Dark clouds hovered over Frenchtown, ominously threatening to make Sunday a wet, muddy exercise in endurance. Mike picked me up around nine, and we had gotten a coupla of breakfast burritos to pad our stomachs for the beer and whiskey that was sure to be flowing as the day wore on. We were both less than awake during the drive out, and we drove, mostly in silence, with the radio loud on the way to the ranch.

The road up to the place where the branding would take place was mercifully dry, and the dust kicked up behind us as men in trucks rushed around, completing last minute details. The cowhands were young - fourteen or fifteen, and they sat lazily on the back of a flatbed, waiting for the day to begin. The cows had already been separated, and were braying loudly at being removed from their young. The calves were in a pen, kicking up dust and fighting with one another. We parked the rig and got our gloves, then walked over to greet the others.

Joe was already giving orders to Lisa, the nurse who would be vaccinating the calves. The generator was not yet running, and the irons were still cold, but things seemed to be shaping up. Joe Senior was wearing his rubber boots, and was sharpening his knife for the castrations. There were men rigging up the fences and lubricating the gates, kids running around and a couple of dehorning the calves He had four different sized de-horning iron and a straight iron in the fire. The main JB iron was an electric one. The cattle come down the chute, one at a time, and are guided into a cattle catching table, their head sticking out the front of the table. The table is then tipped to its side so that the calve is lying horizontally. Joe then tightens down on it so that the calve is held tightly in place by a metal contraption across its ribs. One guy stand on the calf's right rear leg, and holds his left rear leg and tail with his other had, so that the calve is still (mostly still) to accept the iron.

"Bull!" someone yells, and Joe Senior comes out with his bucket and knife to cut off the calf's balls. The testicles are collected in a bucket, washed, and fried up for snacks that an old guy brings around to us throughout the day. They are small, almost like popcorn shrimp, and are quite tasty, once you get past the idea that they are a calf's balls. Washing the first bite down with whiskey is highly recommended.