A cowboy’s greatest asset is always his horse

The glory years of the cowboy is said to have been during the time from just after the Civil War until the free range was mostly fenced in the mid 1890s. 

By then, railroads came closer to shipping areas and the massive cattle drives were no more. However, during this era, cattle drives would inspire the idolization of the American cowboy. 

These men, some as young as today’s 5th grade school children, showed courage beyond their age, tempered with a savage grit, as they faced the many dangers of the range. 

Things like hostile Indians and bandits, weather extremes, the ever present danger of stampedes, long stretches without water that a herd needed at the end of a hot dusty day, and then swollen flooded river crossings that often proved deadly. 

The greatest asset to these cowboys would be their horses. These animals, many of which were descended from wild mustang stock, were tough, strong, and as resilient as the young cowboys they carried. Each hand would be assigned a “string” of mounts that would be herded in the “caavy” by one of the younger cowboys known as the “wrangler.”  

These horses would often be half broken mustangs, known for their toughness and their savvy of the trail and their ability to survive. A good mount often meant the difference between life and death for their rider and a good cowboy would see to his horse’s welfare ahead of his own. 

The relationship between cowboys and their horse was fodder for many mythical stories, often ending with a sweet young lady, misty eyed and waving good-bye, as the cowboy and his horse rode off into the sunset. 

In fact, legend has it that S. Omar Barker, a classic early cowboy philosopher and poet, wrote about his friend, Jack Potter, who was a trail drover and made many trips trailing cattle to the railhead in Kansas. 

Barker spoke about the courtship of Jack and Cordie Eddie that were eventually married. Jack Potter was like most cowboys, being tongue-tied around women. After an arduous courtship, managed to get Cordie to accept his proposal of marriage without actually muttering the words pertaining to love and marriage. 

At that time, Jack claimed that he kissed Cordie! But she said it was not so, because first, he kissed his horse!”

MUSTANG                                                                                                    

Crisp air at early mornin’ light, a band of mustangs in full flight                                                             Cascade down the steep mountain trail.                                                                                                         Smoothly flow  thru rock an’ tree, racin’ down so gracefully,

Yet ever cautious as they sail.

Collage of colors flashin’ by, playful yearlings cavort an’ fly,                                                      an’ squeal with pretended wrath.

While matriarchs nip their flanks, to calm their youthful, snortin’ pranks,

an’ keep ‘em headed on their path.

The ponies, shinin’ in the sun, swept down the valley at a run.

Headin’ for the sweet mesa  grass.

Their hoofbeats clattered on the rock, these ponies from good mustang stock,

visions  of beauty as they pass.

The leaders set a torrid pace, stragglers try to stay the race.

Runnin’ as if they had been spurred.

The thunderin’ hooves pound the earth, as dust clouds experience birth,

To,  then  hang  behind the herd.

They move as one thru rocks an’ draws, a fluid beast that will not pause

Until they reach their final goal.

Beauty of speed an’ flowin’ manes, poundin’ hooves leave loud  refrains.

A deep melodious drum roll.

At meadows edge, there lies a pool, with  waters clear an’ mountain cool,

invitin’ them to quench their thirst.

They slow an’ spread along the marge, to drink their fill an’ thus recharge.

Most with muzzles now emersed.

One by one they break away, for meadow graze an’ maybe play,

A ritual for one to see.

Ponies spread out far an’ wide,  watchful patriarch on the side,

Alert for danger constantly. 

They each one graze to their content, or romp an’ play as day is spent,

then  they run an’ jump, nip an’ squeal.

Elders in a three legged stand, droopin’ heads throughout the band,

as if to say they knew the drill.

Evenin’ shadows start to  grow, ponies bunch as if they know,

Darkness develops  it’s own plight.

The stallion’s signal rings out shrill, he’ll safely push them up the hill,

an’ then to guard them thru the night.

He will circle, nippin’ at flanks, so they tighten up the ranks,

He knows he can protect them then.

As mornin’ sun will heat the day, afternoon slowly fades away,

An’ darkness settles on the glen.

An’ they know that they are free!

©  Ol’ Jim Cathey

 Join us Sunday morning at First Baptist Church Marlin. God bless each of you and God bless America!