Two of the most unique and authentically Argentine
experiences that I have had on this estancia took place at Chiviquin and
centered around the cattle. Chiviquin is
the name of the cattle station on the estancia – it is where the gauchos do the
majority of their cattle work and where we take guests to practice their gaucho
skills such as herding and roping cattle.
Because this is a working ranch, Chiviquin is a hub of activity when it
comes to all things cattle; and the events that go on there are not just for
show. Everything that happens is done
for a purpose. Everything that is done,
is done in the traditional gaucho way.
And everything that happens there creates another wonderful photo
opportunity for those of us enthralled with this traditional way of life. :)
Way back in late January, after just about ten days of
living on the estancia, I got to witness the gauchos in their element: it was
time to castrate the calves that didn’t make the cut to become bulls. While I cringe at the thought of watching an
animal ‘in pain’ (come back to this later), I was equally intrigued to watch
the gauchos work, to see what methods they use, and learn about the
process. So, biting my tongue and
fortifying myself to watch this calf versus man showdown, I found a perch on
the rock wall surrounding the corral, adjusted my camera settings, and settled
in to watch.
We had arrived to Chiviquin on horseback, with a handful of
guests in tow, to watch the action. As
we approached the cattle station, the sound of bellowing cows and wailing
calves totally enveloped us and masked any other background noises. As we arrived, I took in my surroundings:
many cows meandering in the field just outside the corral; others with their
noses to the fence that separated them from their calves; calves calling out to
locate their mothers on the other side.
Then there were the gauchos. They
had started castrating calves earlier that morning and so were already coated
in dust, with lines etched out by the beads of sweat that lazily rolled down
their faces. Whatever color their
clothes started out, they were now a matching mouse brown color, thanks to countless
instances of wrestling a calf to the ground, or holding it as the calf was
cut. We happened to show up during their
break time – meaning that the gauchos were busy smoking cigarettes and passing
around litre-size bottles that had been cut in half to make vessels for their
questionable beverages. The cardboard
cartons of wine being passed around made it fairly obvious that these men
weren’t just drinking soda and lemonade as they leaned against the stone wall,
reminiscent of the ‘cool kids’ so often portrayed in movies. After a few minutes,
a couple passes of the drinks, and some languid puffs on the cigarettes, they
were ready to get back to work so they could finally finish castrating the
calves. Us silly tourists had held them
up from completing their work – we wanted to watch, otherwise they would have
been done well before midday. But now,
to appease our curiosity, they had to work under a blazing sun to cut the last
twenty calves. I wonder what they must
think of us. 
It was at this point that I found my spot on the high stone
wall and prepared to watch. The sun beat
down on our browned skin, causing even the spectators to have a sheen of sweat.
I felt like I was about to watch a
gladiator fight in a colosseum. I was
imagining the lowing cows as a roaring crowd, the lassos as the weapons of
choice, and the calves and gauchos as competitors. Honestly, I think I was cheering for the
calves.
There were about ten men, and numerous children, involved in
the operation. The men were in charge of
the actual roping and cutting, the older boys were in charge of manning gates
and chasing the calves while occasionally getting a chance to rope, and the
little kids were in charge of looking cute, carrying their dads’ rebenques
(whips), and staying out of the way. It
was quite a system. A boy would let two
calves from the holding pen into the corral.
Then, a couple of boys would chase these calves around the perimeter of
the corral while the men stood towards the center and awaited the perfect
moment to casually toss their ropes at the front feet of the passing
calves. Roping the calves by their front
feet immediately brought them to the ground and allowed the gauchos to quickly
move in. If the gaucho got only one
foot, a back foot, the head, or around the body, he would simply let go of his
rope; it didn’t count. Once the calf was
roped, there was a flurry of chaos, which was actually carefully orchestrated
movements. 
Two men were in charge of holding the calf down. As the roper held the rope taught, two men
maneuvered into position, one at the head at the calf, and one at the
rear. With one leg extended and pushing
into one of the calves’s rear legs, while holding the other leg, the person at the rear exposed
the underside of the calf so that Dani, the head man here, could hustle over,
make the incision, and casually drop the discarded body parts into a
nondescript bucket. I think that hat
bucket was every calves’ worst nightmare.
And this is when I want to come back to the pain aspect of
this operation. These gauchos do not
want to inflict pain on the animals.
They are not going out of their way to do harm to these calves. They are simply doing their jobs as best as
they know how, and equipped with what tools they have; in this case, a corral,
ropes, a knife, and their own determination.
Yes, obviously it must be painful to have your balls cut out, but there
is no way around it. They cannot have a
hundred bulls running around in the herd.
So, in an effort to make the experience as least traumatic as possible,
these men are exceptionally quick and skillful in their movements. From the time that the calf is roped, it
spends approximately 45 seconds on the ground.
In this time, two men come to hold it down, it’s balls are removed, tar
is spread over the incision, and two vaccines are administered, after which
time, the calf is free to jump to its feet and run to rejoin its mother in the
field. So yes, the calf
is experiencing pain and stress, but it is short-lived, and it gets to return
to its life as quickly as possible. I
just wanted to make this point for all the people out there who may think that
this is animal cruelty or something like that.
It’s not. It is a necessary way
of life. It is tradition. And it is the primary source of income for
these gauchos who take such pride in their cattle work. And now back to that day in January…
video of the process immediately after the calf was roped
For about forty minutes, these gauchos worked tirelessly to
finish the remaining twenty calves. From
the moment of the release of the first calf, a haze of dust hung in the air and
tinted your skin with tiny particles.
Even the bystanders came out of there a bit grungy. When the work was done, the men lost no time
in beckoning to the young boys to bring them the homemade vessels and gulp down
the contents before signaling for a refill.
In my mind, a well-deserved drink.
If wine mixed with coke is your thing (which it is for many gauchos),
more power to you. Adequately refreshed,
the gauchos trudged up to their house to deposit their ropes and wash their
hands before returning to dig into the feast that awaited them. While everyone else was busy roping cows, or
watching other people rope cows, Herman was occupied tending the fire and
ensuring that all fifty pounds of meat were evenly cooked. An asado (bbq) is essential to any gaucho
event and is the light at the end of the tunnel for the gauchos. The thought of massive chunks of meat,
slow-cooked over an open flame, is enough to propel these gauchos through a
long day’s work of castrating calves.
Wouldn’t be my ideal reward, but when in Argentina…
Enjoy this plethora of pictures - it is so easy to get shutter happy at these events!
