Cowboy Wisdom (16 page)

And I swear, by God, that I’ll not night-herd again.

Oh, it’s bacon and beans every day;

I’d rather be catin’ prairie hay.

I went to the boss to draw my roll;

He told me I was still nine dollars in the hole.

I’ll sell my horse and I’ll sell my saddle,

And you can go to hell with your Longhorn cattle.

—“Old Chisholm Trail” Traditional c. 1870

T
alkin’ about music.… I used to own a saxophone, but traded it off for a cow. Made about the same noise and gave milk besides.

—A
NONYMOUS

Range cattle with horns:
In the cow’s second year, the horns start a second growth and a small ring is seen encircling the horn. A second ring appears
during the third year. These two grooves around the horn disappear as the animal becomes older. From three years on, the growth
of the horns is marked by a groove that is much deeper. These rings provide an accurate basis for estimating the age of the
animal. After the animal is three years old, the outer part of the horn plus the first ring are counted as representing three
years, and each subsequent ring toward the base of the horn is counted as representing one year.

Polled (hornless) stock:
A cow has temporary teeth for the first eighteen months or so. At two years of age, the cow will show two permanent center
pinchers. At three years, two more permanent teeth form, and at four, two more. At five, the cow has reached maturity and
all eight teeth on the lower jaw (cattle have teeth only on the lower jaw) will be large, permanent ones. After six years,
the arch or curve of the teeth gradually loses its rounded contour and it becomes nearly straight by the twelfth year. In
the meantime, the teeth have become triangular in shape and distinctly separated, showing a progressive wearing down to stubs.

—F
AY
W
ARD
Norfolk, Nebraska 1958

I
t is difficult to believe it, but in times of drouth [cows] actually eat cactus. But they do not eat the cactus because they
like it. Every spine and tiny sticker, besides being barbed, is tipped with a poisonous venom as painful as the sting of a
wasp. It makes a wound that swells and throbs and is slow to heal, but the cattle have to endure it. After breaking through
the outer defenses of a tree-cactus, they eat it out from behind, then lie down with their noses stuck full of spiny joints
and chew their cud complacently. The inside of their mouths becomes as tough as India rubber, and if they can get enough water
to dilute the bitter juice they will live on cactus a long time.

—D
ANE
C
OOLIDGE
Berkeley, California 1938

W
e had a stampede in the territory while Noah Ellis and myself were on herd together. In the run that followed my horse fell
with me, and I thought the steers would run over me. But I soon learned that steers will not run over a man when he is down
underfoot. They will run all around a fellow, but I have yet to hear of a man being run over by them.

—D
ICK
W
ITHERS
Boyles, Montana c. 1920

O
ne of the slickest things I ever saw in my life was a cowboy stopping a cattle stampede. A herd of about six or eight hundred
head got frightened at something and broke away pell-mell with their tails in the air and bulls at the head of the procession.
But Mr. Cowboy didn’t get excited at all when he saw the herd was going straight for a high bluff, where they would certainly
tumble down into the cañon and be killed. You know that when a herd like that gets to going it can’t stop, no matter whether
the cattle rush to death or not. Those in the rear crowd those ahead, and away they go. But the cowboy spurred up his mustang,
made a little detour, came in right in front of the herd, cut across their path at a right angle and then galloped leisurely
on the edge of the bluff, halted, and looked around at that wild mass of beef coming right toward him. He was as cool as a
cucumber, though I expected to see him killed, and was so excited I could not speak.

Well, sir, when the leaders had got within about a quarter of a mile of him I saw them try to slack up, though they could
not do it very quickly. But the whole herd wanted to stop, and when the cows and steers in the rear got about where the cowboy
had cut across their path I was surprised to see them stop and commence to nibble at the grass. Then the whole herd stopped,
wheeled, straggled back, and went to fighting for a chance to eat where the rear guard was.

You see, that cowboy had opened a big bag of salt he had brought out from the ranch to give the cattle, galloped across the
herd’s course and emptied the bag. Every critter sniffed that line of salt, and, of course, that broke up the stampede. But
I tell you it was a queer sight to see that man out there on the edge of the bluff quietly rolling a cigarette, when it seemed
as if he’d be lying under two hundred tons of beef in about a minute and a half.

—S.L. L
YMONS
Colorado Springs, Colorado 1898

H
avoc on the hoof—that’s a Brahma bull. A Texas-bred cross between the Brahma of India and the Mexican Longhorn, the Brahma
is considered to be the most dangerous animal in rodeo. He’s not content merely to buck, but usually seeks vengeance by attempting
to gore his dismounted adversary. It takes real nerve to try to ride these huge, “ornery” beasts. There is only a rope around
the bull for the cowboy to hold on to. A cowbell dangling from this rope under the animal’s middle further infuriates him.
As in bronc riding, one hand must be held free from the bull, and the cowboy must spur from shoulder to flank during the eight
seconds which make a completed ride.

—M
AX
K
EGLEY
Phoenix, Arizona 1942

L
ike any other animal, the Brahma bull is just as mean as man makes it. He is bold, and he is proud. [He is] the only type
of steer that can look a man in the eye and not waver. The Hereford will look, then glance away. He remembers something that
the two-legged creatures have done to him, and he is ashamed of mankind. But the Brahma has no such scruples; he neither fears
nor disrespects the master of the beasts.

—A
BEL
P. B
ORDEN
Mackey, Texas 1934

T
he last time I rode a bull I was a senior in college. When I started playing with the Cowboys, they asked me to stop riding
bulls, which was all right with me. I was looking for an excuse to stop and still save face. “Oh, heck, I can’t do this anymore.
Damn it. The Cowboys won’t let me.”

Thank God for the Cowboys.

—W
ALT
G
ARRISON
Dallas, Texas 1988

I
would rather not bore the public with buffalo.

—H
ORACE
G
REELEY
Reisinger’s Creek, Colorado 1859

T
here were eleven buffalos in the herd and they were not more than a mile from us. The officers dashed ahead as if they had
a sure thing on killing them all before I could come up with them; but I had noticed that the herd was making toward the creek
for water, and as I knew buffalo nature, I was perfectly aware that it would be difficult to turn them from their direct course.
Thereupon, I started toward the creek to head them off, while the officers came up in rear and gave chase. The buffalos came
rushing past me not a hundred yards distant, with the officers about three hundred yards in the rear. I pulled the blind-bridle
from my horse, who knew as well as I did that we were out for buffalos—as he was a trained hunter. The moment the bridle was
off, he started at the top of his speed, running in ahead of the officers, and within a few jumps he brought me alongside
the rear buffalo. Raising “Lucretia Borgia” to my shoulder I fired, and killed the animal at the first shot. My horse then
carried me alongside the next one, not ten feet away, and I dropped him at the next fire. As soon as one buffalo would fall,
[my horse] Brigham would take me so close to the next, that I could almost touch it with my gun. In this manner I killed eleven
buffalo with twelve shots.

—B
UFFALO
B
ILL
C
ODY
Cody, Wyoming 1879

This is a book for cowboys and anyone who likes cowboys…what you call your basic Cowpoke’s Companion. It’s big enough for
trail recipes and home remedies, and advice on things like how to get along with your horse and your mate. It’s small enough
to fit in a standard-sized saddlebag. Every once in a while we all need the words of real cowboys and cowgirls to help keep
a tight rein on life. So remember that “a pair of six-shooters beats a pair of sixes.” And enjoy the ride.