|
|
|
|
"A Cowboy By Any Other Name"
This article is on that special breed of men, (not leaving out some very special exceptional women, a type of people I knew and loved so well, does not or can not apply to the cowboy or ranch woman of today). There is no "Free Range", trucks and trailers carry the horses from pasture to pasture, no need to leave before daybreak, water, canned or bottled drinks are carried along in their trucks, food can be bought at any time of day every few miles and cattle confined in a pasture will be there anytime today’s cowboy wants them. The time of the cowboys I knew is in the past, never to happen again. Those old time men and women deserve great respect and honor, dirt and all...... To describe or identify the now extinct human species know as "cowboy, stockman, cattleman, stockraiser or rancher" meaning the unique specie that died when Free Range pastures ended by the passing of the Stock Law, is a subject dear to my heart. I was born to and raised by a man who fit every one of those labels. I have been thinking about the meticulous care and instant trips to the doctor and almost hourly treatment we give to the slightest cut or bump in comparison to what I saw or practiced on myself when growing up. I have been made to see and I suppose agree that those were dangerously dirty ways, yet most of those tough old cowboys lived out their "four-score and ten". In all my life living with and among people who raised cattle for a living I never saw a towel, a wash rag or a bar of soap, except at a camp or in their homes. Leaving home just before daybreak, riding halfway to Keenan or Magnolia or Plantersville or Willis or New Waverly penning cattle to brand or changing young bulls into young steers. Cutting a bloody mark into the calf’s ears, wrestling the calf down to the ground to do those things, only called for a wipe off on the "duckin" pants they wore. There was only a pond, creek or branch, dried up stagnant pools to drink from. Everybody and every animal, the horses they ride and the dogs they used to hunt and drive the cattle all drank from the same off-colored puddle of water at the same time and I never saw any water wasted on washing up. A water supply was not something to take lightly for many people. The pioneers of the settlement of young Texas had moved on and settle on some natural supply of water. Bathing and keeping clean we think of and practice today could not be done in those days. I read a young woman’s description of how she bathed, while living in a one room cabin with a family mixture of men, women and children. She said she bathed with all her clothes on. First she bathed as far down as possible, then as far up as possible and lastly she bathed "possible" . I think I’m quite sure most cowboys bathed once a week, possibly once a month. In every community there were one or two men that were accused of never bathing at all and to bear out this reputation it was said that those neighbors who went to tend the body at death, would cut of more shirt collars off the meaning of course, the person never bathed or changed clothes, simply putting on a new shirt over the worn out shirt. Being at an advanced age, argued strongly that dirt would necessarily kill. I remember only two or three deaths from wounds untreated or treated with popular remedies of the times such as Kerosene or whiskey and those deaths were caused by rusty nails or wire punctures. I read somewhere that "Hunger is a good antidote to dirt" and I know that is an absolute fact. No child is going to throw away a piece of candy or fruit or sandwich just because he dropped it. For the cowman who ate a meal at five o’clock in the morning and got no more food until night, after a hard day with cattle, a close look at how clean the food is, does not happen. The cowman’s hands could have the residue of many contacts in a day. Most of them would have the dark brown stain of smoking a hand-rolled cigarette on the thumb and middle finger. There would be sweat from the horse he saddled along with the dirty many times sweat soaked saddle girth. He might have caught and tied up one of the dogs he wanted to leave at home that day. In Screw-worm time he might have packed up some cotton and Peerless screw-worm medicine in a saddlebags, he would have periodically relieved his bladder and the other bodily function due once a day at least. If he was lucky enough to have a lunch to carry, he received the "poke" of food without a question about who cooked it, how they cleaned or how clean the crock pot was. |
|
|
©Montgomery
County News, 2004 |
Anniversary
announcement
April Sound
Classified
Events
Crusin' Cape
Dobbin Texas
Editorial
Happy
Birthday
History
of Montgomery I've Been Thinking
Entertainment
Legal
Notice
People Focus
Obits
Schools
Sports
Travel
Walden
Happenings
Wedding/Engagement Announcements 
