I rode out of Guarania das Missoes with the same friends who had accompanied me into the town. We were all tired from staying up until 1 in the morning chatting, listening to the live band and drinking wine in the horse barn, but we were excited to ride.
At 10am we stopped at a ranch owned by one of my new comprades, and ate an abundance of meat.
“Make sure you eat a lot here because you never know what you will find down the road,” our host said as we grabbed the meat laid out right on top of the wooden table in front of us with our hands.
The meat was delicious, but my digestive system was not too happy about having to deal with it so early. After lunch the riders accompanied me to the bank of a river where I loaded the mares on a ferry and crossed the dirty-brown waters. I thanked them for all of their help and before bidding them farewell, an older gentleman removed the hat off his head and handed it to me.
“You are living my own dream son, I want you to take my hat,” he said passing me the floppy black, felt hat.
I thanked my new friend, removed my white straw cowboy hat and placed his on my head. Much to his pleasure. He waved me off and I road the mares onto the ferry.
With the setting sun we arrived at Tinho’s ranch, our host for the night. In his early 30’s, Tinho works on his family’s cattle ranch and raises criollo and race horses.
“I pay my bills with the cattle but my love is the horse,” he told me as we ate dinner that night.
The next day we woke up early and drove with Tinho to another one of his property’s. Joined by ranchers from his community, we castrated and branded 60 calves and steers.
“Sure today we could just load the animals into a chute and done the job is a few hours. But we want to keep this tradition going, we want to maintain and keep our culture alive. My grandfather branded this way, so did my father, now I’m doing it and hopefully one day it will be my own children,” Tinho told me while we stood in a large wooden corral.
Here in the south of Brazil they don’t head and heal the animal like in Canada and the United States. Instead they throw a Pialo, which is a long loop at the animals front legs. When the animal is caught, the rope tightens and causes the calf to flip over – both front legs roped. Their rope is also different. Instead of being made with nylon or grass, it’s a leather rope. I tried their method of roping but it’s not easy!
After we finished with the work, it was time to celebrate. A large table was set and we ate and drank the afternoon away. This I must say, reminded me a lot of my time branding in Western Canada during my last journey. The help from the community and the feast afterwards was identical. I was also forced to eat a testicle at both brandlings! The meat is very soft and if you don’t overthink it, tastes great.
