A Penny for Your Thoughts: A Horse Tale

Lisa on Penny and me on the ground - where I belong!

A Penny for your thoughts. Really, Penny was in my thoughts Tuesday evening as a couple of cowboys came to help us round up a bull.

I've never been a horse person. I didn't go through the preteen fascination that seems to afflict a bevy of girls, including my sister, Lisa, who had a horse named Penny. I left the fancy fringed shirt and cowboy boots to Lisa and her 4-H project. I was much more inclined to have both feet planted firmly on the ground. Give me a foods project or the reading project - both decidedly indoor activities - and I was much happier. I even liked working on 4-H books. (I know I am an anomaly, but I've always liked the art of telling a story.)

We typically use what Randy calls "Japanese horses" for our cattle roundups. But we've attempted on more than one occasion this summer to round up a bull who decided the neighboring pasture looked better than the one he was supposed to occupy. The Kawasakis just weren't doing the job this time. Every time we'd get there, Mr. Bull would hide in plum thickets.

A neighbor recommended a freelance cowboy who had helped him with a similar predicament. Cory's business card reads, "I don't turn wrenches and I don't build fences!"

He and his friend, Tyler, didn't have time until evening, so we were dodging raindrops and nervously watching lightning streak across the sky as the cowboys unloaded their horses - Darlin' and Marly - and took off across the pasture in search of Mr. Bull.

 

We parked the pickup and trailer on top of a hill so we could watch the cowboy's progress and bring in cattle panels if the job required it.

Have you ever heard the song, "The Cowboys Lament?" I had my own lament going as I regretted not grabbing my real camera as we dashed out the door to go load up panels.

My cell phone camera's telephoto lens didn't do the scene justice. The bull who had dashed swiftly into the plum thickets on Monday during our attempts at a round-up ambled up the hill toward the portable corrals.

I could see one of the cowboy's lariats swirling on occasion to provide a subconscious nudge when the bull had other ideas. I could hear a subtle "yip, yip" as the cowboys completed their mission.

With little fanfare, the guys helped us load the bull into the trailer and rode off in the sunset.

Well, they rode off to the north, where there pickups and trailers were parked, but you get the idea.

Kinley and Brooke are now in that little girl horse fascination phase. I have to say I'm understanding that attraction at the moment ... not enough to get on a horse, of course. Just enough to appreciate them a little more.

And the bull? He got a chauffeured ride to the Pratt sale barn.

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.

***

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.

From the Trail

They look like they stepped out of the pages of a history book. These guys and gals aren't Saturday night cowboys. Their cowboy hats and chaps are like a second skin, not a movie prop. Their stance in the saddle is as comfortable as if they were sitting in an SUV instead of atop four legs providing their horse power. They are the drovers of the 2011 Kansas Cattle Drive.

Their journey commemorates Kansas' 150th birthday. It began on Labor Day weekend in Caldwell and will end September 24 in Ellsworth. They are loosely following the Cox Cattle Trail, named for William M. Cox, a general livestock agent for the Kansas Pacific Railway Co. in the 1800s.

On Tuesday night, the drovers laid out their bedrolls or pitched tents in a pasture southeast of Sylvia.

Tom Schick, an Oklahoma cowboy, says that taking care of their horses is one of the first tasks as they head into camp. They hitch their mounts to a rope line and spread out alfalfa for them to eat.

The "cookie" makes sure the cowboys are well fed.

Hardtack may have been on cowboys' dinner plates a century ago, but this crew travels with a refrigerator/freezer that gets plugged in at night. Chili was on the menu Tuesday night.

At 7:45 the next morning, as the sun struggled to peek through a cloudy sky, they opened the pasture gates and began their 15-mile journey to Wednesday's campsite on the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge.

Though it's a scene that could transport you back to the 1800s, there are reminders that it is the 21st Century. A cowboy or two just might have been talking on cell phones. And port-a-potties took the place of building a nightly latrine.

Wednesday evening at the Quivira camp, some sat around the fire, maybe as much for the stories as for the steak that was on the night's menu.

Those stories flowed as freely as the coffee hanging from the pot at the end of the cook stove ... until someone noticed a couple of small visitors who had come to say hello to some real cowboys.

The meal may have been served on plastic tables, but the food was dished from cast iron pans onto metal plates, filling the cowboys' bellies for another day on the trail.

To read more about the journey, visit the website for the Kansas Cattle Drive 2011. They will be at a celebration in Ellinwood this weekend before making the final trek to Ellsworth on September 24. Happy Trails!

Git Along Lil' Dogies

She is the Pied Piper of longhorns, gently calling the behemoth-horned steers into a journey that blends past and present.

As 210 longhorns crested a hill, it looked like a scene from a century gone by. A cloudy and cool September morning was punctuated with sunflowers waving in the Kansas breeze as Carmen Schultz led the way along with a longhorn named Roger. The Medford, Oklahoma, cowgirl is among the 35 drovers who are making the three-week Kansas Cattle Drive in honor of Kansas' 150th birthday.

They began the journey on Labor Day weekend in Caldwell and will end September 24 in Ellsworth. They are loosely following the Cox Cattle Trail, named for William M. Cox, a general livestock agent for the Kansas Pacific Railway Co. in the 1800s. By 1871, Ellsworth was a mecca for cattle drives, with more than 30,000 head of cattle shipped through the central Kansas town.

In days gone by, I suppose the locals were accustomed to watching cowboys herd longhorns from Texas past their own pasture fences on their way to market. These days, the out-of-state visitors in our area are more likely to be toting guns for recreational hunting, rather than using them to kill a jackrabbit to cook over an open flame for nourishment on their way to a Kansas cattle shipping outpost as they would have in the 1870s.

(You can see Randy on the pickup bed in the background - a blend of new and old!)

On Wednesday, Randy and I joined other sightseers to witness a cattle drive reminiscent of those our Kansas ancestors may have seen a century ago. A wagon with a matched team of horses led the way over a hill just south of one of the pastures near Quivira National Wildlife Refuge, where part of our cow-calf herd has spent the summer.

The cowboys at the back of the pack had a sign to the refuge's visitor center to point the way. (Of course, they could also have followed the hoof prints down the sandy road.)

To read more about the journey and "meet" the trailhands, visit the website for the Kansas Cattle Drive 2011. And come back here tomorrow for more of my glimpses from the cattle drive.

Happy Trails!

Saddle Up

Our little town hosted its annual rodeo last weekend. It's been part of the fabric of our community for more than 50 years.

On rodeo weekend, it seems everyone finds their inner cowboy lurking somewhere deep inside. People who normally prefer ballcaps dust off their cowboy hats and mosey down to the rodeo arena. Nike tennis shoes get pushed aside for Justin boots. Adidas t-shirts are forsaken for Wrangler jeans and snap-button shirts.

Of course, we have our share of real cowboys and cowgirls. They look at home in their Stetsons and freshly-pressed Western shirts.

Some of the weekend cowboys look like they're trying a little too hard.

And then there are the littlest cowpokes. They eagerly watch for the parade of horses to begin.

The shiny purple chaps on this little darlin' were locked and loaded around the flanks of a lamb during the mutton bustin' for kids later in the evening. She didn't last long, even with her mom running frantically alongside to cushion the fall.


This little cowboy also had his time in the spotlight during his third attempt at mutton bustin' while his little cousin and the rest of us watched. His dad says his lil' cowpoke usually goes into the contest with a plan. When he was bucked off the first year, he scrambled for the fence and began climbing, just like he'd seen the "real" cowboys do on television.

This year, he planned to make the golden eight-second ride. But, alas, the lamb had other plans.

(Brent with his birthday "twin" and friend, Erica, at the Stafford Rodeo parade)

Our own cowboy also had a short ride on a calf at the Stafford Rodeo one year. With a crash to the ground and the wind knocked out of him, Brent's days as a rodeo cowboy were shortlived, which is just fine with his mother. I know most people love the rodeo's bullriding finale. I watch the event and cringe as the bucked-off cowboys roll away to avoid the hooves of 2,000-plus-pounds of beef pounding all around them. Saddling up on a bike for the rodeo parade is a much safer bet.

Jill also had a fleeting foray into the world of cowgirls. She came home from one Stafford Rodeo with a pink cowboy hat. (That's what happens when Dad and daughter go alone to the rodeo.) The hat didn't make it for the rodeo parade, but she did use the cowgirl outfit from her dance recital to add a little atmosphere to the bike ride. (And it's good that she got a little more mileage out of some of those expensive dance costumes!)



My sister, Lisa, went through a "horse" period in her 4-H career. Somehow, I think it was more about the outfit she got to wear during the county fair judging. This is about as close as I liked to get to Penny the Horse.


Even though I'm not a rodeo fanatic, I still like the atmosphere from a small-town rodeo. Back when we were kids, we used to visit our Sublette grandparents during the Haskell County Fair each summer. As I look back on it, my grandparents probably picked fair week so there were plenty of activities to entertain us.

But the rodeo was a centerpiece to the fair festivities. Now, when I go to a rodeo, I remember Grandma and Grandpa and the smell of popcorn, the majesty of the grand parade and the spectacle that rodeo brings.

It is an all-American extravaganza, isn't is?

And, as the rodeo announcer pointed out, it's one of the only sports that includes both patriotism and prayer as a prelude to the festivities.