The next time you’re driving on I-80 through Wyoming, do yourself a favor.
At Laramie, take Highway 287 toward Fort Collins. It’s a scenic drive filled with rocks, rills and templed hills. But about 25 miles along, you’ll come across a marvel: a cattle ranch owned and operated by 20 Benedictine nuns.
The Abbey of St. Walburga near Virginia Dale is their personal “Ponderosa.”
Unlike many Catholic orders, this group of sisters is growing in number, and new recruits tend to be young and energetic.
Something about pitching hay between prayers apparently appeals to a special brand of person.
I stopped at the abbey to check things out.
Up a little road, I came to a gate with a sign that read, “Gentle Cattle on the Road.” It was a gentle warning that foreshadowed the gentle times ahead.
I didn’t see cows on the road, but I saw a great many in the roadside pastures. And the sisters had chosen some rather interesting breeds. I saw Belted Galloways — black beef cattle from Scotland with a white stripe around the middle; they’re nicknamed “Oreos.”
I also saw some llamas along with some curly-headed cows that looked like llamas. Such a mix-and-match herd could only have been assembled by animal lovers (though such sentiments don’t keep the sisters from selling hamburger by the pound).
Most of the sisters were at prayer when I arrived, so I strolled the grounds. Visitors aren’t allowed into the inner courtyard, but you can see enough to get an impression. I glimpsed a calico cat curled up on a window ledge (probably a good "mouser"). I saw bird feeders for different sized birds. And I saw small pathways lined with Christmas lights. I wondered if they kept them lit all year round.
Then I stepped into the well-stocked bookstore.
“Just how many head of cattle do you have here?” I asked the aging sister at the counter.
She thought a moment.
“A lot,” she finally said, then returned to her books. She obviously wasn't the Annie Oakley type.
I picked up a pamphlet about the abbey.
The cattle operation is just a sidelight to help the Walburga sisters make ends meet. They are really a contemplative order that spends most of the day in prayer and study. St. Walburga herself was a Bavarian saint known for her healing touch. The Colorado branch of her followers was formed in 1935 because the Nazi regime in Europe was growing annoyed with contemplatives. The group outgrew its original home in Boulder and established this larger, more remote retreat above Fort Collins.
Today, the sisters themselves are an interesting combination of offishness and goodwill. In fact, their convent and cattle spread attract many fellow Catholics looking for a few days of bucolic beauty and traditional ranch life.
I came close to staying on for a spell myself. Being a “cowboy contemplative” appealed to me.
But I had to be off into the sunset.
I do plan to return, however. I was charmed and moved. The last time I saw nuns and saddles at the same time was in the Clint Eastwood oater “Two Mules for Sister Sara.”
The notion of a "Wild West nun" made for a quaint and lovely film — just as the true-life version, the nuns at the Abbey of St. Walburga, makes for a quaint and lovely way to live.
Email: jerjohn@deseretnews.com