Hard Cases: Troubled teens work, study, ride hard to become complete wranglers

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Hard Cases: Troubled teens work, study, ride hard to become complete wranglers

Wednesday, September 08, 1999

By Jack Kelly, Post-Gazette National Bureau

LOA, Utah -- Bad little boys should be made to be cowboys.

Teen wranglers head out to round up wayward cows as part of a Utah cattle drive program for troubled teens. (Darrel Ellis, Block News Alliance)

The life of a cowboy looks glamorous on the silver screen. In real life, it has about as much glamour as working on a chain gang.

It's a testimonial to the effectiveness of the program at Aspen Ranch -- and perhaps a comment on day-to-day life here -- that working on a cattle drive is considered a privilege to be earned. There are always more youngsters willing to sign up for undergoing at least 12 hours of drudgery than there are spaces available.

Aspen Ranch is a residential treatment facility for troubled adolescents, most of whom have substance abuse problems.

A major part of the treatment is the Equine Assisted Psychotherapy Program run by Greg Kersten, a former Nebraska cowboy, military policeman and corrections officer, who is a pioneer in the field.

Participation in a cattle drive is a rite of passage. Only experienced riders who get good grades and are on their best behavior may take part.

Aspen Ranch, which has about 100 head of cattle, conducts drives to move its herd from winter pasture to spring pasture to summer pasture, and back again. Aspen also lends young wranglers to neighboring ranchers.

The wranglers on this drive are Mike, 17, from Warren, Mich; Bobby, 17, from Memphis, and Rachel, 15, from San Luis Obispo, Calif. And two tenderfoot journalists from back East.

The Trail Boss is Gil Hallows, 45, a slim, soft-spoken, bespectacled man who would look like the academic he is if he weren't wearing jeans and cowboy boots. Gil, who has a Ph.D. in history from Ohio University, is executive director at Aspen Ranch and at the Aspen Achievement Academy, an affiliated wilderness program. He grew up on a ranch nearby which his brother still runs.

Helping Gil is Cindy Cragg, 27, who joined the staff at Aspen Ranch just a month before. Cindy is an expert horsewoman, but this is her first cattle drive at Aspen. So the de facto ramrod is Mike, who is on his third drive. Bobby and Rachel are rookies.

The day begins at sunrise. Horses are taken from the pasture to the corral, saddled, and loaded aboard a horse trailer.

The two tenderfeet, neither of whom has done any riding since they were kids, are assigned the horses least likely to run away. Mine is a stallion named Dandy.

If Aspen Ranch ever makes a statue of a horse, it should use Dandy as the model. Not only is he a handsome animal, but there is nothing in the world he would rather do than stand still.

We drive on back roads to a point about 10 miles southwest of the ranch, unload the horses, put bridles on them, and begin the roundup.

The roundup is fun. The cattle are scattered in twos and threes throughout the pasture. We split up to gather them. It isn't real hot yet, and the high desert is gorgeous. The altitude is about the same as the Vail ski resort in Colorado, and you can see a herd of antelope here, a stand of aspen there.

Gil takes advantage of every opportunity to teach. He explains the difference between jackrabbits and cottontails; the use to which aspen can be put; the reason a five-day-old antelope can outrun a horse. Mike listens with rapt attention.

"Classroom teaching is the most efficient," Gil says. "But this is what's most effective."

After a couple of hours, the herd is assembled and the drive begins. This isn't so much fun. There are many glorious sights in the intermountain West, but the south ends of northbound bovines are not among them.

You drive cattle in a semicircle from the rear, which affords the view described above, and which causes every part of you to be covered with a layer of dust kicked up by the cattle as they plod along.

Driving cattle is hard work. Cattle move at their own pace, which is not fast, especially in hot weather. And the temperature is in the low 90s by early afternoon.

A cattle drive is a good way to develop patience, personal responsibility and teamwork -- all of which the adolescents sent to Aspen Ranch tend to lack.

Cattle can be herded, but they can't be manipulated. They don't care how you feel. Temper tantrums don't faze them. And if you're not in control of your emotions, your relationship with your horse can get complicated.

There is no clock-watching or shirking of responsibilities on a cattle drive. The job isn't over until the cattle are at their destination, and that takes however long it takes. Goofing off just means more hours in the saddle in the hot sun. And lengthening everybody's day is not the way to build relationships with coworkers.

By mid-afternoon, our water is nearly gone, and the herd's leisurely stroll has slowed to a snail's pace. The cows in front are stopping more often to munch grass, and more effort is required to get them moving again. We've been in the saddle for nearly eight hours, and tempers are fraying. Each of us could well imagine the origin of the expression: "cowpuncher."

We aren't punching any cows. But we're yelling at them a lot, and chucking rocks. Mike takes off his belt and whacks bovines on the behind. His horse bites one on the rump, which produces a spectacular -- but all too brief -- burst of motion.

It is after 8 p.m. when we get the last of the cattle inside the fence at Aspen Ranch. By then, even Iron Mike is complaining of being saddlesore. All that remains is to get to the corral, unsaddling and brushing down our horses, and letting them out to pasture.

It is nearly 9 p.m. and we're finally finished.

Rachel postpones a meal and a shower to join some teammates, who are playing soccer on a field near the corral. Though she has expressed little enthusiasm for her first cattle drive, she is proud of what she has accomplished, and she wants to share her experience with her friends before she cleans up.