Got Cows?
I am occasionally asked how many cows I have or where are my cows or something along those lines. It's usually asked by someone with a Brooklyn or Philly accent or some other sort of accent from a large city back east. It occurs to me that such folks are trying to be smartasses, implying that I shouldn't be wearing a cowboy hat if I don't have cows, which they apparently consider necessary to be a cowboy.
My standard reply to such folks is that I've never owned a cow, but worked for several cattle operations during my younger years, have owned scores of horses, mules and donkeys and have worked off and on as a wrangler, trail guide and hunting guide throughout my life. This would probably qualify me as a cowboy in their minds and could end the conversation right there. But I always feel obligated to enlighten these folks about cows and cowboys and such things so that they might be more effective in their efforts to be smartasses.
First off, I tell them that most folks that own cows are generally referred to as dairy farmers. These people don't often wear cowboy hats, likely due to the fact that such hats would not have been very handy traditionally when cows were milked by hand. They usually wear ball caps, which doesn't necessarily mean they are ball players, or something like a striped train engineer cap, which doesn't tag them as engineers. They are not likely to own and ride horses, or sit around camp fires on the range drinking coffee or whiskey and singing cowboy songs or conducting other activities that city folk normally associate with cowboys. Very few working cowboys own any cows and they generally refer to any bovine buddies they work with as cattle, which includes cow/calf pairs, bulls, steers and heifers, all generally associated with beef production.
The people that own these cattle and hire cowboys to work them are generally referred to as stockmen or ranchers and are not near as likely to wear cowboy hats except for nice clean ones mostly worn symbolically for social events. I then remind these aspiring smartasses that I am enlightening them out of concern for how they might be perceived by others because it is fairly obvious what a smartass would amount to without the smart part.
In truth, however, these wannabe smartasses are at least partially right in assuming that I'm not really a cowboy even though, by their naïve standards, I would more than qualify. The fact that I've been working cattle and breaking horses since I was in high school would impress the socks off most city folk. But in reality, this doesn't mean that I did any of that very well or in a correct manner. I would not pass my own standards to qualify as a real cowboy, nor the standards set by any real cowboys.
I do have many of the skills to qualify as a cowboy. Having worked in my late teenage years for my brother-in-law, a large animal veterinarian and rancher in Texas, I learned a lot about handling cattle and emergency veterinary care. Because this was during the early seventies when Charolais cattle (usually called 'Charlies' by ranch folk) were first introduced into Texas, and because Charolais bulls often produced larger calves than the narrow pelvis of a Brahma cow was designed for, I became more skilled at pulling calves than the average cowboy. And while I became passable at roping a cow in a corral on foot, the ranches I worked on in those days didn't need or use good working horses so I never learned to rope from horseback – a necessary skill for any real cowboy.
Still, I like playing the part and enjoy being recognized as a cowboy by most who know me, even though I know better. So, what is a cowboy? For anyone really wanting to know, I'd recommend reading a few Ben K. Green books starting with Horse Tradin' and Wild Cow Tales. He was an entertaining and informative writer who was also a serious West Texas cowboy during the depression and drought years.
The definition of a cowboy changes over time and by different practices in various regions. It does not include the versions that most folks think of as cowboys such as rodeo cowboys, generally referred to as 'Billy Bobs' by most real cowboys (although a few real cowboys engage in this sort of competition) nor does it include dude ranch cowboys, often referred to as 'Dandies'. I have been a little of both.
I believe the notion of a cowboy is inseparable from that of a horseman. Love of horses and freedom, pretty much one and the same in some eyes, are key ingredients. That and the love of a rugged life style in the great outdoors. These essentials lead me to the conclusion that the most genuine cowboys in this day and age can be found in the mountainous west. While many cattle operations in the plains and deserts still use horses out of tradition, pleasure or sport, the mountains provide the terrain that actually require the horse in an irreplaceable fashion. This is also a region where ranchers tend to do more of their own cowboying.
A typical cattle operation in the intermountain west will involve some private ranch land usually located in lush valleys with hayfields where cattle are kept and fed during winter and calving season, and some high-country grazing leases on National Forest Service or Bureau of Land Management lands where cattle are free-ranged during summer months. The summer and winter ranges are often adjacent or close enough that driving the herd on horseback is the most cost-effective means to move cattle. The summer grazing patterns are managed by the placement of salt and mineral blocks, which the animals crave, and which are delivered by pack horse to remote areas otherwise inaccessible.
The fall round-up is where a good cow pony really proves it's worth. Locating and moving cattle through the wilderness (which includes federally designated Wilderness Areas although this practice is becoming increasingly contentious) is extremely challenging. This is where the superior sight, hearing and sense of smell of a horse, as well as its athletic abilities, become invaluable. And the value of a cow horse to a cowboy is largely based upon its 'cow sense'; the ability to find cattle and basically outthink cattle in order to drive them out of their inaccessible safe havens.
The work of a cowboy involves some of the longest hours in often the toughest and most dangerous conditions possible. Even a routine day might involve the need to subdue an angry beast ten times your weight who would rather gore, kick or stomp you than be subdued. Most cowboys will enjoy this kind of action and consider it to be a perk. The day always starts before daylight and ends only when the work is done, which might take all night. Calving season always involves countless sleepless nights, usually in frigid conditions. Going back to my teen years helping my brother-in-law pull a Charolais calf out of Brahma cow, I was once so exhausted after several nights of this that while holding down a cow's head as my brother-in-law re-inserted and stitched up a prolapsed uterus, I passed out asleep and woke up to find afterbirth and part of a placenta plastered to the side of my face. Gross but true. And while most don't fall asleep in that sort of muck, every cowboy has worn his share of all kinds of slime at some point.
Do cowboys love their horses? You bet! Are they fond of cows? Probably not. I'm sure dairy farmers used to form strong sentimental attachments to cows, especially in the old days when there was much more personal interaction. But even as an extreme animal lover, and having had lots of exposure to cattle, including cute little calves, I've never developed much affection toward one. Right about the time they start looking almost cuddly, with their big brown eyes and soft looking muzzles, they demonstrate how their tongue is perfectly designed to reach far into a nostril and clean out the mixture of snot, hay dust and whatever other goobers might reside there – not an attractive sight.
So no, being a cowboy isn't so much about cows. It's about horses and cattle; wide open spaces; dense forests and woodlands; deep canyons and tall mountains; river crossings and quick sand; intense thirst and hunger. It's about a free ranging lifestyle full of hardship, danger, beauty and wonder. But all of that isn't really necessary just to wear the hat.
- Previous: Poop Scoop