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Al goes to work in this corral of rather uncooperative cattle. The Border Collie was verbally instructed to move the animals from the far end of the holding pen through an open gate connecting to another corral.

Al’s owner, Walter Parker, said the dog is “very helpful when we get the cattle penned.” Trainer Rick Cole said Al has several years left in his career on the Parker’s Highland Ranch before retirement. Stock dogs normally have an eight- to nine-year career before the wear and tear of the bumps, bruises and kicks from cattle force them into retirement.

morning and wants me to pet his head.”

Walter doesn’t deny that Al is a pet, but he’s just as insistent that the 40-pound black and white bundle of energy is a valuable hand on the ranch.

“You’d be surprised how much that dog helps you.”

Walter runs about 340 head of mother cows on his vast ranch, and rounding up the cows and their calves was a major undertaking for him and his son, Joe, who operates the Talala Creek Ranch just a mile or so away.

“Until the dog, it was us and horses,” says Walter. “You’ll run four horses to death.”

Father and son still mount up to help, but Al does the lion’s share of the cowboying, whether it’s getting the cattle out of the brush or putting them in portable corrals set up in the large pastures.

“You can use the dog and two people and get them in,” says Walter.

Walter and Joe gathered up the herd in mid May. “We gathered the cattle with dogs. We used to use horses and a feed truck. Now we use horses to help out the dogs,” says Joe, who owns two dogs he’s training to help Al. Al arrived on the Highland Ranch trained and ready to share in the work. Walter admits that “it took a while” for him to remember the commands and learn how to work with the dog.

“He’s really helpful and real intelligent.”

Al came on the scene nearly two and one-half years ago, three-fourths grown and trained.

Breeder/trainer Rick Cole, who lives nearby in Nowata, keeps close tabs on Al and Walter.

“Al is a workaholic, never satisfied with lying around,” says Rick.

“He’s bred and trained to work. Al doesn’t understand why he wants to work, but does know that it is his greatest reward.”

Rick has been training dogs for several years, and also has a twofemale, one-male breeding operation so he can produce his own pups.

With so many breeds available, Rick had little trouble deciding that the Border Collie was the right choice for him and cattle ranchers.

“They’re just easier to train. They like people. They’ll work for you.”

Border Collies originated on the rough terrain of the Welch and Scottish borders of England, where they were used to handle large flocks of sheep.

“We now use the same breed of dog to work cattle, hogs and even ducks. The herding instincts of the Border Collie are very strong. They’ll attempt to herd almost anything including other dogs, children and the family lawnmower,” Rick says with a grin.

“Border Collies are really a coming thing. They are so efficient. They undoubtedly are the best and most popular dog in obedience and agility,” he adds.

“Border Collies are extremely intelligent and very talented.”

Rick begins training at seven weeks of age when pups are just weaned.

The first instruction is simple, teaching the pups to come when called.

They graduate to enter pens on command and stay until told to exit.

“It’s a long process,” he admits, “sometimes a very long process.”

Rick has seen some dogs 10 months to two years old before they

“Border Collies are really a coming thing. They are so efficient. They

undoubtedly are the best and most popular dog in obedience and

agility. Border Collies are extremely intelligent and very talented.”

10 • Oklahoma Country • Summer 2004

showed any interest in herding stock.

“Sometimes, they just don’t have an interest. But they usually respond well to training.”

T

he Border Collie, by nature, is a timid dog. Rick says that’s why he uses rewards for his dogs, and also uses a soft voice to teach the canines to obey oral commands instead of a harsh voice.

“They learn really quick. They’re smart enough to cheat.”

Rick says it’s important that any stock dog come from working parents. The chances of getting a good cow dog from working parents are 60 percent or better in any individual litter. He doesn’t hesitate to add “there are no guarantees you’ll get a good one.

“Not all dogs will work livestock. Many will be pets, and they can be wonderful companions. But dogs from strong working lines can become frustrated and destructive if they’re in an environment where they become bored.”

Al has managed to fulfill both the worker and pet role on the Highland Ranch, a trait Walter credits to the abilities of Rick.

“Rick’s a good trainer,” Walter says. “He’s a retired Navy man.”

“Without a lot of work, the best bred dog in the world will not be any good,” cautions Rick.

“These dogs were bred to herd sheep, and sheep will herd when the dog looks them in the eye. Cattle won’t. They’ll run at the dog unless the dog nips them.

“You’ve got a 40-pound dog against a 1,200pound cow. The dogs have to be powerful to herd cattle. The dog looks the cow in the eye and conveys the command move or I’ll bite.

Most of the time the dog wins.”

Rick is careful not to train dogs that are vicious, however.

“There is nothing worse than a dog that runs and punishes livestock, bites for no reason and chases the stock to the far fences and beyond. Ranchers don’t want the dogs running the dollars off their cattle. We don’t teach them to punish the cows, just make them mind.”

Walter admits he had to adjust his cattle herding style to Al. “We use him to drive cattle,” says Walter. “He was taught to deliver cattle to us.”

“It’s not natural for Border Collies to drive the cattle. It’s natural for them to fetch, so they have to be trained to drive,” Rick admits.

“But, if you’re doing anything more than just opening the gate, you’re probably in the dog’s way.”

“A good dog is worth two people. That sounds funny,” Walter says as a grin appears on his face, “but that’s the truth!”

“The stock dog is the most willing and devoted worker a farmer or rancher could have,” echoes Rick.

As Al dances around and wags his entire body in anticipation of tomorrow’s chores, it’s evident this Border Collie has found his slice of Heaven on Highland Ranch.

Oklahoma Country • Summer 2004 • 11

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CHECK TWICE

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Cherished

MEMORIES Many of the tangible mementos from her service as an Army nurse in World War II are gone, but time hasn’t eroded her most precious keepsake.

By Mike Nichols

M

emories are about all Christy Smith has left of her career as an Army nurse in World War II. She gave the Bronze Star she was awarded to her brother, who sustained severe shrapnel wounds during a battle in the European Theater.

“He deserved it more,” said the nearly 90-year-old Ada woman, eschewing her efforts as a front line nurse deep in the Philippine jungle and caring for Allied prisoners of war in Japan only hours after the peace treaty was signed.

Her dog tags and a scrapbook filled with small, fading black and white photos and yellowing newspaper clippings are the only tangible reminders of her service in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps.

But, memories of her service in the Army Nurse Corps and her years as a nurse haven’t faded like the photos and newspaper clippings.

“I loved my time in the service. I loved the work. But I never would have made it a career.”

Christy grew up in Ohio as Edith L. Christy. She adopted Christy as a first name after her military service since given names had a tendency to fade when subordinates and brass addressed her as Lieutenant Christy.

14 • Oklahoma Country •Summer 2004

After finishing high school, she lived with several families in the Cincinnati area. She was a nanny/live-in baby sitter, caring for the children of some of Cincinnati’s more affluent households.

“In 1939, I decided I didn’t want to live with families and take care of infants and toddlers for the rest of my life, so with the blessings of the family I was with, I left to be a nurse’s aide at Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati.”

As an aide, she learned. But she also had questions and didn’t hesitate to ask professionals about diagnosis, prognosis and treatment.

“One of the doctors suggested going into training and finding out the answers for myself,” Christy remembers.

That suggestion was the only encouragement needed. She entered Christ Hospital in Cincinnati in 1941, starting a three-year course to become a registered nurse.

Upon completing the course and successfully passing the state board exam, she enlisted and asked to be assigned to the European Theater. Her brothers and brothers-in-law then were fighting in the

Opposite: Christy pulls a time-worn photo from her World War II scrapbook.

This aging photo is of Christy in her uniform standing on the balcony of the 42nd General Hospital in Tokyo.

Oklahoma Country • Summer 2004 • 15

European Theater.

She was sent to Fort Campbell in Kentucky for boot camp. Upon completing her training, she was off to Sulphur Springs, W. Va., one of many nurses assigned to care for 96 veterans, who all were paralyzed from the waist down and suffering from bladder damages.

“These boys were in a beautiful hotel, which was a rich man’s playground in normal times,” Christy remembers. That was her only taste of luxury during her one-year plus of active duty.

Before she could go overseas, peace was declared in the European Theater and Christy requested duty in the Pacific Theater “as close to the front lines as possible. I asked to take care of the sickest patients.”

But first, there was more training. She was sent to Marysville, Calif., where the nurses were taught how to use gas masks and to climb and descend rope ladders, among other military skills.

The next transfer was to San Pedro, Calif., where hundreds of nurses were put on the U.S. hospital ship, Marigold, and then sailed to Hawaii.

“When we left port there, there was another hospital ship there being repaired after a Japanese suicide bomber had disabled it. Hospital ships ran with their lights on at night. It worried everybody because the Japanese didn’t pay any attention to hospital ships.”

The week-long trip to Hawaii was uneventful, except for several severe cases of sea sickness.

“When I was growing up, I always got sick even riding in a car. But, I didn’t get sick, even once at sea.”

After 24 hours in Hawaii, the nurses took to the high seas again bound for Leyte, The Philippines. With Leyte in sight, the ship was signaled to proceed to Manila.

“When we got there we couldn’t dock because there were so many sunken and damaged ships. So, we climbed down ropes ladders and were taken to shore in PT boats.”

Once on shore, the 60 or so nurses in her unit were loaded in troop trucks and taken deep into the Philippine jungle to an old monastery that had been converted into a makeshift hospital.

“It was all concrete and the second floor was all open without any walls. We were put there. All we had were cots on the second floor rigged with mosquito netting that we had to tuck under us when we got in bed.

16 • Oklahoma Country • Summer 2004

The mosquitoes were horrible. The first floor was the hospital.”

The first night in the jungle setting was the worst.

“Someone heard zippers of luggage being opened and the word went around that some Filipinos had climbed up into our area and were going through our luggage.

“Someone yelled and then the screaming started.

Cots overturned, helmets fell and it was pandemonium,” Christy remembers.

“We like to have frightened the poor (hospitalized) men to death. It sounded to them like the Japanese war cry, bonsai.”

While the makeshift hospital wasn’t on the battlefront, she vividly remembers seeing the fireballs from artillery and hearing the loud reports.

Danger was near enough that nurses were assigned guards when they went to the outdoor bathroom at night.

When one wounded Japanese prisoner was brought in for treatment, Christy remembers the story circulating that Filipino guerillas who killed a Japanese soldier were paid a bonus if they brought in the victim’s ears or head impaled on a pole.

“We believed them!”

The food was just as poor as the accommodations.

“We had a lot of SOS and dried vegetables. There was no milk. But when we’d scrape our plates, there always were Filipinos with cupped hands waiting to catch what we discarded.”

After what seemed an eternity (it was but two and a half weeks) in the jungle, the nurses were ushered back to the hospital ship for the trip to Japan. They arrived in Tokyo’s Yokahama harbor and stayed on the ship for 24 hours before the peace treaty with Japan was signed.

“Then we docked and set about emptying the prisons of our boys and allies. Depending on their condition, they were hospitalized on the ship, flown home or put on troop ships. They were all in poor shape.

“They said they knew something was going on because they started feeding them better and treating them better. I asked for and got to care for the sickest cases. The worst part was the ones that made it through and died after being released back to their countrymen.”

American and allied troops began emptying Japanese from St. Luke International Hospital and transformed it into a facility for their own. Its

Christy’s dog tags are one of the few tangible mementos she still has from her days as a nurse in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps.

name was changed to the 42nd General Hospital in honor of General Douglass MacArthur, since that was the name of the general’s favorite hospital in The Philippines.

Christy remembers the five-story hospital was “primitive” in comparison to American facilities. There was no hot water or heat because radiators had been removed and used for war material. The lighting was “a mess” and the elevators, which she used only once, “had a mind of their own.”

Hepatitis was rampant when Americans took over, partly because, in Christy’s opinion, Japanese doctors paid little attention to maintaining sterile conditions.

She worked the 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift and trudged up and down the five flights of stairs several times each day to care for the soldiers during her seven months in Japan.

Christy remembers the wartime patients cautioning all the medical personnel.

“They were very careful to tell us not to touch them to wake them if they were sleeping because they didn’t want to hurt us by coming up fighting.”

All of the nurses were housed in the hospital during the operation.

They were put on Japanese beds, which were substantially shorter than even the cots nurses slept on in the jungle.

Christy, who is taller than average, suffered a severe neck injury from sleeping on the short bed.

“I had to go to sickbay with a chronic stiff neck. The bed I slept in was made for Japanese nurses, with head and foot boards making it impossible to straighten out.”

Her problem, which prevented her from moving her neck to the right or left, was not remedied until after she was discharged. A doctor in Ada assembled a contraption with a strap for her neck attached to pullies and weights that she used for several weeks.

Christy saw very little of Tokyo while stationed there since tensions between Americans and Japanese were high. Nurses were treated to a dance at the embassy, and had to dress in traditional Japanese kimonos.

“We had a wonderful dinner of sushi,” she said with a touch of sarcasm.

“Our pudding dessert tasted like batch powder smelled. Before starving to death trying to use chopsticks, I had to ask for a fork.”

While she loved her time in the service, she was more than ready to head back to the states. Nurses and other medical personnel made the trip on a tramp ship, which docked in Seattle, Wash. She had her first

American meal at a restaurant there – shrimp cocktail, shrimp salad, fried shrimp and milk.

From Seattle, she loaded on a train and was sent to Fort Sheridan in Illinois. After receiving her discharge papers, Christy returned to Ohio to be near family.

However, family conflicts caused her to leave Cincinnati. She had a brother living near the King Ranch in Texas who told her he believed she would like it there. A friend in Denver contacted her, urging her to make the Mile High City her new home.

It was only by chance that Christy wound up in Ada in August of 1946.

“I was on a train that had a two-hour layover in Ada. I learned they needed nurses here, so I stayed.

When I got off that train it was 105 in the shade and dry as tender. I thought what have I got myself into.”

She was befriended in Ada by a local family. That family “wound up being my adopted Oklahoma mom and dad.”

Christy continued her career in nursing, serving almost 30 years at what is now the Valley View Regional Hospital in Ada before retiring in 1974. She worked in every department at the old hospital, finishing her career in the coronary care unit.

She met her late husband, Artie, while working at the hospital. She was caring for his 86-year-old father while he was hospitalized and became acquainted with Artie when he visited his father.

“We started going together and got married in 1950,” Christy said. “I was 35 and he was 40.”

Christy and Artie moved to his father’s farm and both worked at the hospital. Artie worked under Christy as an orderly.

“He was working under me. But he still gave me orders. It was a riot.”

When Artie’s father died, Artie took over the family farm and never returned to his orderly job at the hospital. It was in that time period when the couple joined Farm Bureau.

“Bob Fennell came to see us and we joined up. Bob was the only insurance person then.”

Christy’s still an active member of the Pontotoc County Women’s Committee. She even prepared and helped serve food at the Farm-City Festival at the state capitol last April.

She’s looking to rekindle a few memories of her service time later this year in Cincinnati, where the nurses will hold their 60th reunion. She recently spent about an hour on the phone with one of her service pals, and is looking forward to the reunion.

“There’s getting to be fewer of us all the time,” Christy concluded.

Fewer survivors, but no less memories!

Oklahoma Country • Summer 2004 • 17

Farm Bureau’s

‘Marathon

Woodward District Claims adjuster Tracy Evans outran and outlasted all the women ru

T

Tracy Evans of Woodward crosses the finish line as the women’s winner of the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon. (Photo courtesy of Sports Source)

18 • Oklahoma Country • Summer 2004

racy Evans didn’t have long to celebrate or relax – maybe just the two and one-half hour ride back to Woodward from Oklahoma City after she won the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon April 25.

She returned to work at the Woodward Farm Bureau District Claims office bright and early April 26 to a stack of claims from recent hail storms that smacked much of the state. While the stack of claims was shrinking, Tracy was still climbing on roofs in the Oklahoma City area assisting local adjusters well into May. “I haven’t had much chance to enjoy it,” she said one Thursday morning before scaling the ladder in an Oklahoma City neighborhood to check damages on an insured’s roof.

Tracy was the first female to cross the finish line in the fourth annual Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon on April 25.

One of the first things she saw when she crossed the finish line was her daughter, Desa, holding a sign that read “Go Tracy.”

Her husband, Kevin, also was there to cheer her on.

“He does the support stuff and also is my biggest cheerleader,” said Tracy. “They are both very supportive, but neither participates.”

“For someone who works full time and takes care of us, it’s absolutely phenomenal,” Kevin told the Daily Oklahoman minutes after Tracy crossed the finish line in downtown Oklahoma City.

Tracy completed the 26 miles in a blistering 3 hours, 13 minutes and 55 seconds, a time the veteran runner called “slow.”

She might consider her time slow, but it was more than six minutes ahead of the second place female runner and much better than the other 515 individual female marathoners.

Her time was less than an hour slower than the overall male winner, who finished in 2 hours, 22 minutes and 54 seconds, and better than 900 of the 954 individual male runners in the race.

Tracy, with the help of a personal trainer, trained to run a 7-minute, 10-second mile pace. Her race day mark was 7 minutes, 24 seconds.

“I had the help of a personal trainer, Mark Bravo. He had me doing yoga and stuff I hadn’t normally done. There were a few changes. He’s such a great mentor. I think it helped.”

Tracy just might have hit the 7-10 mark if she hadn’t had a hip problem.

She raced in Austin, Texas, in February, and sustained a hip injury, and admits “I was hurting” when she crossed the finish line in the Oklahoma City race. Her victory at the recent 15-mile Beacon on the Bay Run at Lake Hefner in Oklahoma City also aggravated her hip injury.