A tribute to the American Cowboy … myth or reality?

My young bride Stella and I wish each of you a happy and prosperous New Year!

A tribute to the American Cowboy…Myth or Reality?                                                                      

The American cowboy’s humble beginnings started in the cow-rich grasslands of Texas after the Civil War. True enough, predecessors of the American cowboy date back to colonial times, yet these early farm lads never became heroes. 

In fact, they were undistinguished, illiterate, and unmounted herders trailing their beasts to market. Texas joined the Confederacy in 1861 just 16 years after being annexed by the United States. 

The decision to join the Confederacy came as a result of a disagreement over states’ rights, tariffs, and slavery issues. The war effort spirited men, young and old, from the farms and ranches of this newly formed state, Texas. Here untended cattle roamed and multiplied resulting in vast herds of wild and unclaimed beasts. 

In 1866 at wars end, men came home, but often found no home. Cattle were plentiful, but worth nothing. Then northern markets began to demand beef and the price made it lucrative to supply that beef. Herds were gathered and moved north to the railheads in massive trail drives. 

Routes such as the Chisholm Trail were developed to feed a growing demand for beef. Thus, the western cowboy was born, a mythological symbol of the American West. 

They developed the reputation of being tall in the saddle, a loner, facing danger with a quiet strength. Dangers such as the elements of nature, wild beasts, outlaws, or Indians tested the grit and faith of this hardy pioneer. 

They relied on abilities to survive that were learned through the school of “Hard Knocks.” Many came from families that looked to God for His provision and His strength. As a result, those that survived exhibited resilience and a deep underlying strength that portrayed their character. 

The same strength displayed by The Virginian when he softly and quietly advised Trampas, “When you call me that…Smile!”  

This passage was in Owen Wister’s early novel The Virginian. For twenty plus years those characteristics appealed to people and made the cowboy a folk hero. And today, having been glorified in numerous novels and motion pictures, the American cowboy cannot be separated from myth and reality. 

He still uses a horse to do his job and still wears the practical garb of the cowboy. He has a love for children, nature, and dogs. He is usually tongue-tied around women, but will probably kiss his horse. And then, he quietly rides off into the sunset.

A  Cowpuncher’s Thoughts

The winter of sixty-four, wuz soon to be no more,

but, she had dang shore left her mark.

New grass wuz slow to green, on cattle it wuz mean,

they’d graze all day, pert near ‘til dark.

But, spring arrived at last, no more of winter’s blast,

tho many a calf’s tail wuz froze.

Now we’ll start the gather, quirt an’ spur an’ slappin’ leather.

Fer a puncher, that’s how it goes.

Chuck Wagon fully loaded, remuda ponies goaded

into a herd an’ made to follow.

A wrangler drives the hoodlum, ol’ cooky oversees ‘em,

hittin’ every hump an’ hollow.

Cowboys lit out early, top hands actin’ surly 

Seems like that’s part of the job

Now they’re slappin’ leather, got one eye on the weather

Early spring storms shore play hob.

But you take it all in stride,  just accept it as you ride

Keep a sharp eye for that camp site.

Chuck wagon is all set up, so you  get a steamin’ cup

Soon to crawl between them blankets for the night.

Skies full of stars a-shinin’, way up in that deep dark linin’

Storm clouds musta rolled away

There’s a bit of chill in the air, but hunker up, you don’t care

‘cuz soon it’ll be break o’ day

Quickly kick off yore covers, ‘round the campfire you hovers,

 biscuit an’ beans an’ coffee cup.

Then it’s out to ketch the hosses, shake yore slack an’ make yore tosses,

pick a good’n to saddle up.

A hard days work must be done, you an’ that hoss will be one

An’ you know which’un works the best.

As a group, you take flight, on the ridge before daylight,

ready to put  ‘em to the test.

The wild ones will try to stay, break an’ run along the way,

but yore pony’s up to the task.

He’ll go full out, cut an’ jump, bust that brush, an’ never hump.

Doing anything that you ask!

That shore helps in yore endeavor, shucks, you think he is plumb cleaver,

when he fakes left an’ then goes right.

Caught that critter slick an’ clean, sorta wide eyed at what it seen,

as it  headed fer the herd in full flight.

So you pull up to take a blow, watchin’ the herd down below,

you light a smoke an’ rub yer ponies neck.

His ears are at full alert, as you stuff the makin’s in yer shirt,

That ol’ steer come close to causin’ a wreck

Goes like that ‘til pert near noon, you’ll  grab some grub purty soon

turn yore pony loose an’ fork another

then it’s back to draws an’ brush, sorta thing you don’t rush

git them critters one way or the other

northwest wind picks up a mite, but,  don’t have that winter bite

but the sky is shore dark in the West

best we push this bunch on down, look at ol’ Smitty actin’ like a clown

I tell you, that boy’ll put you to the test

But he keeps the hands a-grinnin’, ‘cept when they think he’s a-winnin’

Then they settle down to business

dang shore keeps the world a-turnin, dadburned daylight is a-burnin

wal’ best try to catch up I  guess

it’s been a good days gather, shore can’t complain about the weather

this time of year, you never know

I’ve seen it turn awful rough, makes workin’ cows plenty tough

‘specially if it clabbers up to snow

But you take it as it comes, mindful of the rule of thumbs

Can’t do nothin’ about it no how

Dang! that chuck shore smells good, course, you knowed that it would

Seems like a week since you had chow

Git yore hoss rubbed an’ fed, then there’s time to pitch yore bed,

Dang, thet ol’ tarp shore is worn.

Wal, I guess I done my share, a-workin’ on ol’ Cooky’s fare

Hope Ol’ Smitty’ll spin a yarn.

Shore ‘bout time to hit the sack, dang! The night is shore pitch-black

Guess that moon fergot to stay

These ol’ bones shore need their rest, I’ll give that bedroll a test

Thank you Lord, fer seein’ me through the day!

God Bless Texas, the Cowboy, and the United States of America