There is no doubt in Dana Kerns’s mind that he is a rancher, through and through.
The Wyomingite owns land in Sheridan, handed down through four generations, which was first homesteaded in 1887 when his family set up a trading post to trade with the indigenous Crow tribe. But cattle soon became their livelihood.
Grazing the lowland valley ranch during winter, the animals needed nourishment come summer and the lush mountain pastures of north-central Wyoming satisfied their want. “We put our first herd of cattle on the mountain in 1888,” Kerns, 66, told The Epoch Times. “The family has been in ranching since then.
“Without that summer grass, we would go out of business. We rely on it very, very heavily, and it’s all national forests, which is public lands.”
After the government took control of that land a few years later, it began issuing grazing allotments so that the cattle would consume fuel and prevent the spread of forest fires. Thus began the Kerns’s family tradition—trailing the 30- to 50-mile ascent, depending on the year’s allotment, to graze—and it has continued to today.
It was during the double-digit inflation of the Carter years that ranchers started experiencing disaster, with many having to sell out of the business. The Kerns’s ranch had to find new revenue to survive. “About 30 years ago, things were so darn tough in the cattle business we had to generate revenue or sell out,” Kerns said.
They began taking clients along on cattle drives—not unlike the movie “City Slickers”—and though the trips were “grueling,” they came to appreciate the “reality check” cowboy life afforded them. It sounds exciting, and is indeed exhilarating, Kerns said. But it’s no Hollywood flick. Short of whiteout blizzard conditions, they’re out riding regardless of the weather.
The added revenue sustained the family, while other ranches folded.
They run six trips per year. Each week-long excursion starts with a day-long horsemanship clinic on Sunday, before waking at 4 a.m. Monday. By 5 a.m., they’re saddled up as cattle don’t fare well walking in the heat, and trips last typically five to six days with some days requiring 10 hours in the saddle. “They start moving cattle, and the day will go until we reach the day’s destination,” Kerns said. “There is no definitive ‘we’ll be done at such and such a time.’”
While the valley ranch sits at some 4,000 or 4,500 feet in elevation, they will take the cattle up to around 9,000 feet to graze, often traversing rocky and rough terrain that requires humans and animals to march single file. “Some of the terrain is very, very challenging,” Kerns said. “That adds to the excitement of it.” With some 220 cattle, 440 including calves, it can get downright raucous. Calves that lose track of their moms instinctually retreat to where they last nursed and need to be rounded up.
“If it rains all day, you’re riding in the rain all day,” Kerns said. “Unlike the movie ‘City Slickers,’ where it appears riding rain is fun, there’s nothing fun about riding in the rain.” At elevations where drizzle is just a few degrees warmer than ice, there’s “nothing delightful about it.” Cowboys and clientele alike sleep in tents, Kerns said. There is no electricity in camp and hot coals provide heat.
Whoever said cowboying was comfy?
Cowboying is an art. Some clients embrace that more than others. “We’re gonna let them do as much cowboying as they want to,” Kerns said. “Some people really want to get after it, and we allow that. Other people enjoy riding along and witnessing.”
He alludes to the time-honored craft of riding, and rounding up and moving cattle where you want them to go. “It takes a real skillset, because believe it or not, an animal will tell you what they’re gonna do before they ever do it,” he said. “Read their body language. A good cowboy sees what they’re going to do, anticipates that, and then either encourages that behavior or discourages that behavior.”
The upshot, though, is the cattle know where they’re going: into cooler mountain pastures to feast on summer grass. They’re up for it and cooperate.
All that toil by day is rewarded with a “five-star” feast each night cooked in coal-powered Dutch ovens. They serve up casseroles, chicken dishes, and barbecued steaks. “People have to understand, we’re in the backcountry,“ Kerns said. ”You can’t run down to the grocery store and get something.” All things considered, they dine like kings.
As far as staff goes, the company has four cooks, led by Kerns’s wife, Alice; a Coast Guard-trained medic; a number of cowboys, including Kerns’s two youngest sons; and packers to set up and break camp each day. All told, there are about a dozen helpers on the trail.
It takes roughly two days to reach the pastures; another two are spent grazing; and two more make a round trip. Back in the valley on the last night, they throw a big banquet. “Everybody is tired, they’re dirty but exhilarated beyond belief,” Kerns said. “They understand that what they just witnessed, very few people have had the opportunity to do it.”
The excursion satisfies something instinctual, Kerns’s clients tell him. “All of a sudden, they realize when they spent a week with us there’s a piece of their life they’re missing that really wish that they have,” he told the newspaper. “And so that is one of the things that make some of these people come back year after year after year.”
Many city folk have sought out Kerns’s company, Double Rafter Cattle Drives, to help them find that missing piece. Some of those include nonprofits Semper Fi and Wounded Warriors who reached out to Kerns on behalf of their at-risk members, as well as psychologists and psychiatrists aiming to soothe distraught patients.
Journeying from as far away as China, Israel, and Eastern Europe, people from every continent have come for the cowboy experience. “The comment that is always made to us is, ‘You changed my life,’” Kerns said. “I’m not exactly sure what we do; we are just being us.”
