About drift'n sand

Hello, I know of you from Tracey Langley. I have purchased some mares that are close up and line bred drift'n n sand.   I love your post the pictures are awesome, I believe that Porter was an extraordinary horseman, we love these horses that are largely attributed to his work a long time ago. PLease if you have any pics of drift'n sand or any others for that matter of porter and his horses.  Thanks so much for your time, and would love to hear what the family is doing these days.......Michelle Dillon from Colorado

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Old cowboy photo

I am going through old photos my former in-laws have given me so I can write about this family.  There is a photo which is identified as, "Walter Thill, Cammatta (that's how it is spelled on the back) Ranch 1928".  The photo is of a man on a buckboard, looks like it's loaded with bedrolls, two horses (rears only, dark and light).  Also a photo of Walter and his wife Viola at Cyucus, May 27, 1928.

 

Do these names ring a bell.  I know I am sort of just barking up a tree, but would like to get these photos to a historical society, or the likes.  I am in Hollister, CA.  Does the name Arano mean anything?

 

I feel lucky being that my address is also 777!

 

Many thanks,

V. Flint

ahhhhh - The Girl from "the Cod" - as in the fish

It finally hit me... I find myself reaching back and trying to recall conversations with Big Port and wishing that I had written my recollections down years ago...

One thing that's been bugging me is I knew that he had a funny salutation for me just as he did for Mardi. From the moment I heard Mardi tell her story about how Port called her "Child of the Sun", I was horrified that I couldn't remember mine. and not that it's any big deal, I was more frustrated that my memory and recall was not cooperating.

Last night I dreamt about Port and Averyel... it was just as vivid as if we were in my house at Burns one time when they came. We were sitting on my patio looking out at the sea of sage brush that surrounded my house to the north and west, waiting on the eminent Harney County sunset, listening to the tush, tush, tush of the sprinkler heads on my wheel line, (I miss them, the sunsets that is) just chatting, just catching up on what was going on with my life and my kids.

Harney County Sunset - picture is taken from the road in front of my house.

The summer of 2001 they came through Burns and Tim came out and had breakfast with us that Averyel had cooked in their travel trailer. Then that evening we all went to dinner Apple Peddler together with Tim and Linsay. I was so thankful for they had stayed a few days and had gotten to see and visit with Tim as a grown man. I suppose, in reality because it's August is why the visit was on my mind, which spurred the dream.

Back ground story: In an earlier post I told about my very first day helping Port feed and he had two hay hooks on the seat of that old blue chevy pick up... (amongst many other treasures) as we were getting in he hung them on either the back of the seat, or maybe there was a gun rack that he hung them on. Driving along I was so puzzled about those "Gaffs"... I got to wondering about those gaffs and just what a cowboy 500 miles from the ocean would have them for ??? So I finally asked... Gaffs he said what are you calling a gaff? and I picked one up... and he asked me just what a gaff was.... and I told him I was from Cape Cod and the fishermen used them on their boats to move the fish around and when you had a big one on the line you hooked the fish with it through the gills and hauled them over the side of the boat. Oh he laughed and laughed... and then he told I'd get to see in a few minutes what the gaffs were for. and sure enough pretty quick I got my first lesson in loading baled hay on the pickup with hay hooks. He never let me forget it and I never did become adept at using the hay hooks. (maybe cause I'm so short)

So it was after that that he began calling me the "girl from the Cod" referring to my being from Cape Cod. I explained many times that if you were going to abbreviate it, the proper way to say "the Cape", as New Englander quite often refer to it by. But he never ever did say the "Cape", it was always "the Cod". He knew it got my goat to hear it that way... and the more I protested the deeper he sunk his heels in and the more joy he got in saying "the Cod". Sometimes he would say "little cowgirl from the cod" or just little girl from the cod. I can remember a pretty remarkable cow sorting, cow working day when just the two of us were sorting a truck load of calves... I was just grinning from ear to ear with good work I had done. In the feedlot ally, while the truck driver was taking his overalls and boots off, he road over, sidled his horse up, reached over and grabbed ahold of my saddle horn like it was the top of a gear shift and tugged a little and said "Do you suppose your little mama from the Cod, would have ever imagined her little girl from the Cod, would grow up to be a cowboy?"

When we hadn't seen each other for a while - when inquiring of my real family, he'd always ask "So how're things on the Cod?"

And so back to my dream.... in my sweet dream we were all sitting at my patio table, surrounded my that sea of sage brush, (and probably swatting a few mosquitos) when he said "So how're things on the Cod? I woke up with a smile... and had that 'ah -ha' moment. Sigh... I feel so much better now...

30 Year Mystery Solved - Pictures of Annabelle

Hello again,
I was thrilled to see the letter from LarryAnn about Annabell's parentage! I have been searching through my boxes of photos for pictures of her. (One box down and 2 to go!) I also looked at the pictures on the blog and Annie definitely resembled Laddie. I think she is almost a dead-ringer for the picture of Bras D' Or on the allbreedpedigree.com query.

My parents bought the farm they live on in 1982 at the end of Erickson Dike rd. past the fields and barns that were used by Columbia River Associates. I think my Uncle Curt Willson and my mother's best friend's husband Paul Keller may have worked for you guys back in the day.

Anyway, I wanted to give you an idea of how fast Annie was. In January 1985 my Dad clocked me and Annie (10 years old) at 6/10th's of a mile in 44 seconds on gravel and she was barefoot. But, she could maintain speeds like that for upwards of 2 miles. She was something else!

Thanks again to Porter for breeding such an amazing horse! Elina

ELINA'S MARE ANNIE

by Larryann Willis

It was great to hear from Elina and to learn that one of the horses we bred made her so happy for so many years and that the mare had such a wonderful home.

We had one brood mare that was a sorrel with a flaxen mane and tail that we called Laddie's other because her claim to fame was Laddie, one of Porter Sr.'s favorite mounts and one Cyndy is shown riding on the blog.

( For pic go to: http://porterawillispw.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-willis-met-cyndy-tim-eric.html scroll to "Begging to Apprentice")

Almost all of her foals were sorrels with flaxen manes and tails. I don't believe any of the other mares ever produced a foal marked that way so we are almost positive Annie was out of that mare. The mare was brought to Clatskanie from Nevada by Chug Utter who sold the ranch to Columbia River Associates. The mare went with the ranch. Porter Sr referred to the mares that came out of Nevada as the "mustangs" just because of where they came from and the fact that they were not registered BUT this particular mare was no mustang. From what Chug told us she was sired by a good Waggoner Ranch bred stallion that he owned. We have no idea what her mother was...maybe she did have some mustang in her. But Laddie's mother was a really pretty mare that showed a lot of quality.

From the time line, we are positive Annie was by Drift'n Sand AQHA #594852, the horse in the painting on the header of our blog. Drift'n Sand was Port Sr.'s main riding horse for years. He was a terrific athlete, had a wonderful disposition and was a great sire. Drift'n Sand was by Drifty Mc who was by Double Drift out of Sandra Mc (we called her Beulah) that was the first really good QH mare that Porter Sr. bought. I believe Drift'n Sand's mother was Sand Bras who was by the great Cal Poly stallion Bras D'Or and out of Sandra Mc. So Drift'n Sand was the best of the Driftwood x Bras D'Or crosses and was line bred to Sandra Mc one of the best horses -- and fastest -- that Port Sr ever owned.

I remember one time Port Sr and Porter Lynn were talking about Sandra Mc and what lightning speed she had. Port Sr asked Porter Lynn if he had ever opened that mare up. Porter Lynn said "Just once, coming off a Klamath rim after cattle, and it nearly scared me to death!" Big Port replied, "Yeah, I only tried it once too."

We'd love to see a photo of Annie if Elina has any she could post.

Thanks for contacting us.

Porter and Larryann Willis

Link to Drift'n Sand's pedigree: http://www.allbreedpedigree.com/driftn+sand

Porter Willis - mystery

Hello,

My name is Elina (Derby) Tilson. I live in Clatskanie, Oregon. First off, let me give you my condolences on your loss. From what I have heard and read, Porter was one heck of a guy! I don't think I ever got to meet him but I'm sure I would've liked him. May you all hold his memory close.

In a 'strange' way Porter's death has helped me solve a mystery. In 1977 my father, Larry Derby, bought a 2 year old filly for 200 dollars from local horseman Jerry Schultz. The story my dad told me was that the filly was traded or sold to Jerry from Porter or Porter jr. She was supposed to be out of a 1/2 quarter 1/2 mustang mare and Porter's high profile stud. Well, I was just 7 years old at the time so of course I never retained much of the story and never pressed for any bloodline details before Jerry and Georgeanne moved to Arizona. My dad and I trained that filly ( our first one together ) and she went on to become my best friend and the best horse I ever had the pleasure to straddle. Her name was Annabelle but I always called her Annie or Annie-oats. She passed away last fall at the ripe old age of 32. Annie was a sorrel with flaxen mane and tale, 3 white socks and a broken blaze.

As an adult, I have always wondered what her bloodlines were so I could try to find another to start with similar traits and disposition. When I read Porter's obituary I actually cried a little, both for your loss and for the names of the horses listed in the obituary. I hope that doesn't sound strange to you. I cannot begin to tell you what Annie meant to me. Lord knows that during my turbulent teenage years she was my one 'constant' in a sea of difficulties. She was the most honest horse I've ever known, and the best 'shrink' money could buy. She was a cow chasin' speed demon!!! I could round up the whole herd with just her and no-one could touch her in a match race. In fact, I couldn't get any taker's in a match race at 1/4 mile or 1 1/2 miles! She could run all day and barefoot to boot. Never lame a day in her life and never shod! Just an amazing horse and I owe it all to Porter's savvy in horses.

Do you know which stallion Porter had here in Clatskanie in 1974/75? Or any idea about the dam? I would be so thrilled to know. I wish I could have told Porter myself how much I enjoyed that 200 dollar horse. I'm sure he would have been pleased. Sincerely, Elina

He didn't know how good he was !

by Cyndy Coleman Marshall

Believe it or not... Porter A. Willis was also a "humble" man. While he had an ego as big as the Columbia River, he really didn't know how good he was.


From the first day I met him, I was like a sponge trying to learn and absorb everything I could about cattle and horses Porter Willis style. Of course I thought the sun rose and set on Big Port, I followed him around like a puppy dog. I was willing to do anything... even going underneath the cattle scales... (looking back... I can't believe I did that) I was very happy to be asked to do the yuckiest of jobs. And then they had a hay shed that the trusses were a few inches too low for the harrow bed to unload in. So he took the upper bar off the front of the harrow, the one that holds the hangy down teeth/tines that keep each row of hay bales that are added from falling forward on the table. The problem with this solution, was that the hay fields were all corrugated for flood irrigation... (I'm laughing as write this, remembering how it must have looked to the passer by) While he was driving around the field picking up bales of hay, I would stand on the harrow table, facing the hay bales, with my arms extended over my head (I'm only 5'1" tall at the time weighed about 110lbs) to push/hold the bales in place to keep them from falling forward until the harrow bed was full, and he could put the table up to secure it for the trip to the shed where it was going to be stacked. I was just happy as a clam, riding around on the harrow table in the hot sun all day in this position.

FYI - this is a harrow bed or bale wagon, You can see the forks at the top that are what holds the hay bales in place.

Ok, I've digressed from my original story, but that was another example of how eager I was (or perhaps deranged) to help at anything.
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Over the years, I would learn that working with Big Port then (80-85), I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg of the cattleman that he really was. You see, by the time I came on the scene, they were ranching on a much smaller scale. Except for Dean who was a senior in high school and soon to be going off on his own, the boys were grown and gone with ranch interests and families of their own. Big Port and Averyel were running a small bunch of black/black bally cows and feeding a few head in the Feedlot on a shoe-string budget.


I showed up that summer and was free help... willing to do anything, working for room and board and soaring on cloud nine feeling like I was part of a real life movie. For the next five years, I studied and absorbed and listened and tried to do everything on the ranch and in the feedlot that Port would let me do. He helped me start my first colts, and kept me from killing myself... or was it that the Driftwood/Bras D'or horses that he raised were just plain gentle and level headed enough that any gunsel could start 'em?


Eventually I grew up and left the safety of the shadow of Big Port... I married a rancher from Ironside and moved to Burns. I began showing working cowhorses, and dabbling in amateur cutting horse contests. I eventually bought this beautiful 5 year old mare called Bucky Chex that I was extremely proud of. I showed her in cutting and working cow horse events. I had won a few buckles and really enjoyed the heck out of her.


It was probably in 1993 when I had to take some cattle to the Vale Sale, and decided I'd take some time to go up and say hello to Port and Averyel. They were still living up on the Oregon Slope and it was lunch time when I stopped by... Imagine that, I timed it just right !


I can remember like it was yesterday... Averyel was fussing over the stove and Port was sitting in "his" place at the head of that huge antique dining room table with the window behind him. Was the table mahogany or cherry wood?


"Well, well well, look what the wind blew in... Cyndy girl, what brings you to these parts?"


I had brought a little show and tell with me, a framed 8"x10" photo of Bucky Chex and I working a cow. Feeling like I had reached a worthy milestone with this horse, I wanted to show him what he had made, the fruits of his work so to speak. I wanted to thank Port for all he had taught me. Beaming I handed him the photo. He studied it for a long time and was real quiet... then he said " Cyndy this is fantastic, where'd you learn to do this?"

1992 Bucky Chex HDC Open Champion

Truly I thought he was pulling my leg, that he was kidding me... and that he knew darn right well it was he that had taught me, and he was just building up for his own pat on the back.


I said something sarcastically along the lines of: "Ya right, like you don't know ?!"


He said "No, no I'm serious I want to know who'd you learn this from?" and I said, You, I learned it from you!" and he said "no you didn't..." I said "yes I did..." Noooo, I didn't teach you anything like this." And then I realized that he was dead serious, that he didn't realize he had in fact taught me.


I told him that I had come there that day to "Thank Him" for all he had taught me and I wanted him to know how grateful I was. "But I didn't teach you this" he insisted... I told him, "yes you did, you taught me everything I knew about reading cattle and starting colts on cattle and the rest just came from the foundation you had built. When anyone asked where I learned to read cattle, I told them you were my mentor, you were the one person responsible for my ability to read cattle, it was you Porter Willis.


I can remember shaking my head, thinking to myself he really doesn't know how good he is.
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I can still remember the butt chewing I got the first time I turned my horses butt to a cow to get where I thought I was supposed to be... I also remember the many times of him telling me to slow down... give the horse time to think... wait on the horse to read the cow, and the one most important thing he drilled into me "the horse had to be stopped - before you turned it with the cow". No turning the front end until the hind end was stopped.
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I remember times just sitting horseback with him watching different herds... hearing his soft low voice -"now watch the ears, the ears will tell you everything - which one is going to break and which way she'll go... first you look 'em in the eye and stare them down, ... and then if you need to you, just step this way or that... till they step back... if you sit and do nothing until they're already running you are way too late and the wreck is on. He taught me about a cows comfort zone... others would subsequently call it a bubble. Then there were his words of wisdom about sorting pairs, like just watching the body language and ears to show you where her calf was. I could go on and on, but you get the point.
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There might have been others who have coached me over the years... but I got my foundation as a student of the University of Big Port.


Thank you Porter
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The other vivid memory I have of that day, sitting there at their dining room table, was how proud he was to be helping the "little girl" next door with her horse. And talking of how she had watched his horses over the fence since she was "really" little, and that now as a 13ish young lady, she was totally horse crazy ready to learn, she had begged him to help her. It was so obvious that he was thoroughly enjoying having someone to mentor again. It was obvious that helping her at that time in his life was the highlight his days.