Much has been written about the romantic lifestyle of the great American cowboy. The quiet, but always apparent inner strength, the true enjoyment of the simple things in life, the uprightness of character, the work ethic, and the integrity of a man who can be taken at his word are just a few of the traits attributed to the cowboy. Now I'm not talking about the rodeo cowboys who are nothing short of amazing professional athletes competing for a national championship. No sir... I'm talking about the working cowboy who plies his skills and experience on working cattle ranches from before daylight till often well after dark, every day all across this land.
A lot of what's been written was written ABOUT the cowboy and not BY a cowboy. A real cowboy doesn't really see the romanticism in always being three days behind; and in gathering, sorting the culls from the keepers, branding the yearlings, castrating the bull calves, pregnancy testing the heifers, vaccinating, and moving cattle in 100 degree heat, and being short of good help by about three hands. They just see it as what has to be done and so they go about the business of doing it... without complaining or whining about it.
Having always loved the cowboy lifestyle and the western heritage of this land, I've had the pleasure of meeting and getting to know some men whose lives exemplify everything that being a cowboy stands for. And it was in the company of these men that I fully realized I wasn't even capable of carrying the light for these guys. Most of them have forgotten more about horses or cattle than I would ever hope to know, but it did not then, nor does it now limit my desire to spend time in the company of real cowboys. I don't count myself to be a real cowboy, because I've been bucked off too many horses, fell off a few, and let way too many calves get away to be considered genuine. But I do love the cowboy life.
And as hard as they work, there's still occasionally time to relax and have fun. There was a time when several of us gathered up one day at the practice pens, (sort of like an arena) and we were team roping. We'd take turns working on the ground, while others would rope... (that's horseback and footback for all you not familiar with the terminology).
I happened to be footback and it was my turn on the gate. As soon as the ropers were ready, they'd give me the nod, I'd jerk the handle, the gate would fly open and the steers were off the races with the ropers in hot pursuit. We were having a ball. A friend of mine whom we'll call Kenneth was loading the chute. He'd crowd the steers into the chute, shut a small gate, (actually it's just a bar about waist high), behind them so they couldn't back up and when one would leave, he'd bring another one up. A couple of other guys were helping out on footback as well... one inside the pen and one out. Everything was just sailing along smoothly until we sort of ran into a snag.
The steer was in the chute, Kenneth standing behind the steer with the bar in place, my hand on the lever, the ropers were ready... the nod... I jerked the handle and the chute flew open... and the steer just stood there. He didn't move a muscle. The horses lunged forward, Kenneth reached up and slapped the steer on the rump... nothing. Now about that time, one of the other guys was standing there sort of beside Kenneth, but outside the chute and he figured he had the sure fire solution to the problem and a means to put the beast to flight. He had a "Hot-Shot", (or for all you not familiar with the terminology), a battery powered cattle prod that would deliver a harmless, but yet extremely noticeable electrical shock to the animal. With all the commotion going on, he just reached up and poked the steer in the flank with the "Hot-Shot".
None of us were prepared for what happened next. I don't want to be crude, but I DO want to be accurate. Immediately following the short buzz of the hot shot, the steer "bellered", and then there was a sound that really does defy description. Let me just try to explain it by saying that the animals bowels went into full firehouse mode. I wheeled around and looked at Kenneth and here again, this is hard to describe, but in a strip about eight inches wide, from Kenneth's boot tops to his hat brim, the only thing that wasn't GREEN were whites of his eyes. That steer painted an organic racing stripe right down Kenneth's middle.
The steer calmly and slowly walked out of the chute into the arena, Kenneth looked around at me and he said: "It's a good thing my mouth was open or that would have hit me right in the face!" By the time we all got through laughing, the sun was going down and our sides hurt too bad to keep roping so while one of the guys was leading Kenneth to the horse trough to clean up, we just called it off and decided we'd try again in a few days.
It's been a long time since that day in the practice arena, but Kenneth's words still live on in my mind. Never before or since, have I witnessed such a sterling example of a positive attitude. We can be rolling along through life, having a great time and all of a sudden, life's "stuff" will hit us right in the face. Question is; how are we going to deal with it? Philippians 4: 8 says: "Finally brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on THESE things."
And try to remember, a positive attitude will help you the next time you're just cruising along through life and all of a sudden something unexpected hits you right in the face. Just try to find somebody to help you get to the horse trough... it'll usually wash right off. But then Hey... It's Just A Thought.
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