The life of a cowboy is not so romantic as some dream

I have heard that the romantic life of the cowboy is to be envied and desired by millions of men and women. The starry night skies, soft sweet aroma of the sage and the crackling campfire are so wonderful and desirable. The soft rocks and ground with a few sticker weeds and cockleburs make a bedroll such a wonderful place for a good night's sleep. The facilities behind a bush are lovely, too! The aforementioned things are not the only romantic items in the life of a cowboy.

Imagine the pleasure of waking up to a phone call at 4:20 a.m. The jarred-awake brain is confused and grabbing for the phone. Then you hear the deep voice of the county deputy and snap into consciousness. Yes, they call me first when cattle are roaming the highways and byways in this area. The life of the beef producer is on the line. Romantic, ain't it?

Our gate was chained and the thing was cut, so the cattle were on their way to town. It was the heifers, thank goodness, with no baby calves to dart into any or all pastures along the way. The girls were grazing the ditches and peaceably strolling along the yellow line. The weather was perfect for a saunter, cool and misty. When they saw my lights headed toward them the lead heifer struck a lope and the herd joined in for a frisky jog.

My close relative had called the offspring to come help head the derelict girls, so I needed to just get in the lead and head them off, being sure the offspring would turn them into the pasture as they went north. I was again thankful for telephones and dependable help.

If you have ever tried to move through a mess of loping cattle on a highway at night, you have experienced a hair raising ordeal. The silly things enjoy the game and, because they can't think, I have never just killed them all for getting out! So I was running along at a pretty good clip, trying not to hit cattle and praying no cars were headed toward us. The heifer in front of the right fender slipped and I am not sure how I kept from running over her. I finally got ahead of the speed demon lead heifer and she tried to run between the good wire fence to the left.

I watched her bounce back, stand up and shake. The fun for her was over and she was through being foolish. We headed back north and the early morning traffic began to pile in front and behind the drive. I know folks trying to get to work have no time for such nonsense and yet they were all pretty nice about the wait. The gate was open, both offspring were in place and all the delinquents returned to the pasture as directed.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, romance and the cowboy life are not in any way able to legally be connected! There is not one thing I can remember or try to imagine that would fit that picture. If some want to dream about our occupations as such, I guess that is their privilege, but for most of us it has its nightmares! A vehicle doing 60 mph plowing into beef would be fatal.

Keep your longjohns out. it ain't over yet!

Bill is the pen name used by this Gravette-area author. Opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 03/22/2017