Old West Flair

It seemed they rode straight out of the Old West. (Actually, if you want to get technical about it, they came from the south, but who wants to get technical?)

The mystery of lonesome cowboys riding the range was jolted into the 21st century with the appearance of an extended cab pickup barreling down the road along with the rest of the crowd.

I could hear them long before they got to the edge of our trees. The mamas bawled, calling to their tagalong calves as men on horseback herded a neighbor's cattle down the road in front of our house. The foggy morning just added to the nostalgic scene as the cowboys nudged the herd away from the green weeds lining the ditches and out of the succulent fields they were passing.

A lone horseman kept the cattle from turning into our driveway, while the pickup led the way and his cowboy-hatted buddies brought up the rear.

Randy had our "Japanese horse" (a.k.a., a 4-wheeler) keeping our cattle away from the pasture fence while these interlopers rambled by.

(This was taken on a different, sunshiny day.)

Since we use 4-wheelers, our cattle round-ups don't have that Old West flair. But the 4-wheelers don't have to be brushed or fed when we get done with the task. (Well, they do have to be fed a little gasoline.)

The early morning scene had me humming a song my Dad used to sing on our car trips to our grandparents' house in Sublette.

I'm an old cowhand
From the Rio Grande
And I learned to ride
'Fore I learned to stand.

Just for the record, I am not an old cowhand. Well, maybe I am a middle-aged cowhand, but I'm not a cowhand on a horse. But it sure makes for pretty pictures, doesn't it?

Git along, li'l dogies.

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Our little neighborhood drive reminded me of the Kansas Cattle Drive we witnessed last fall to commemorate our state's 150th birthday. Click here and here to read about it.