Have you ever seen a cowboy on a windswept
ridge alone,
Starin' across the country like he's chiseled
there in stone,
His horse standin' beside him, ears up, he's
lookin' too,
And way off, in the distance, are the
mountains, far and blue;
Have you ever wrangled horses in the dim
pre-light of dawn,
Smelled woodsmoke from the cabin where there's
hot, black coffee on,
Have you climbed into the saddle with your
fingers stiff and cold,
Then felt your sorrel hump up, so you took a
real good hold;
Have you ever roped a "big 'un" when no one
knew where you were at,
Then had to go back lookin' for your "stompled"
trompled hat,
Have you ever heard the wisdom in an old
hands' tales,
Then had to run from a mad old cow, when that
wisdom fails;
Have you ever wished for a faster horse, or at
least, a slower steer,
Have you looked back up the trail and
wondered, "Can I get outta here,"
Have you ever seen a bad old cow guard her
sickly calf,
Or watched a youngster smile 'cause he made an
old hand laugh;
Have you ever seen a cowgirl when she brought
a wild one in,
Or heard her Daddy proudly say, "She did it,
again,"
Have you ever seen a dust cloud boil behind a
herd of steers,
Or seen a rancher smile at the first "good"
rain in years;
Have you ever stood in a dry corral with so
many calves to brand,
That you couldn't see how you'd get it done,
then a kid makes a hand,
Have you ever tracked a wild cow wonderin'
who's gonna find who first,
Or drank from a murky dirt tank 'cause you had
to quench your thirst;
Have you ridden back to cow camp after you
turned the cattle out,
Knowin' you've done a good job, that's what
cowboyin's about,
Have you sat outside the bunkhouse after all
the chores were done,
Thinkin' the roan did good today, watchin' the
settin' sun;
Have you ever seen a cowboy on a windswept
ridge alone,
Starin' across the country like he's chiseled
there in stone,
If so, well, we've been blessed, my friend, to
know the cowboy ways,
I've seen that cowboy, on that ridge, I've
helped him gather strays.
© 2007, Stuart Hooker
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Stuart told us: My
grandfather, Joe Hooker, and my brother, David Hooker, were my inspiration
for this poem. Their dedication and hard work at raising cattle have
always amazed me. I can still see my grandfather on a ridge looking for
cattle during a gather. My brother has followed suit and can still be seen
out in the pasture working cattle.
I didn't think about it, when we saddled up that day,
Tammy rode her palomino, I picked out my bay,
Sandra caught her dun, Holly got the roan whose mane has curls,
I never thought about it, but all my cowboys were girls;
We piled into the four-door, the trailer was loaded down,
We stopped to get some diesel, as we drove through town,
The only station open was that rundown place of Earls,'
It still hadn't hit me, that all my cowboys were girls;
By noon we had 'em gathered, then took a break for lunch,
We's laughin' and relaxin,' that was sure a topnotch bunch,
After brandin,' headed home, listenin' to a song of Merles,'
Holly laughed and said, "Grandpa, all your cowboys, are girls;"
It shocked me when I heard it, then I laughed out loud,
The way they worked them cattle would make my grandpa proud,
I had to quote a great cowgirl as we cleared a cattleguard,
"To cowboy up isn't bad, but to cowgirl up, that's hard;"
I've rode with lots of cowboys, lots of cowgirls, too,
It's never about gender when there's work to do,
I've learned a bit of wisdom, through life I've heard some pearls,
Don't judge someone 'til you've rode their trail, some of the best cowboys,
are girls
© 2007, Stuart Hooker
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Stuart told us, "Working
with my daughters, Tammy and Sandra, and granddaughter, Holly, is always a
joy. One of the best cowhands I know, besides my brother David, is his
wife, Paula. She really understands cattle, horses, and any other
'critter' you can think of. My niece, Belinda, is good help too. She can
help get a pretty big animal down, and hold its head down while I tie it.
There are many women, and girls, around here who can hold their own when
it comes to working cattle, or any other ranch work. I see more and more
women working on, and running ranches. It's a great time to be a cowboy,
or a cowgirl!"
It was winter-time and it was
cold,
That fencin' job was gettin' old,
I put the tools back in the truck,
Drove to the ranch, and just my luck;
The other hand was late, again,
I opened the gate, let the horses in,
Threw out hay for the horses and cattle,
Then stopped to look at the boss's saddle;
It was carved with acorns and leaves of oak,
I'd get one like that, 'cept I was broke,
See, a workin' man don't make a lot,
But he takes pride in what he's got;
A friend said once, when we's in a drought,
I's born with a silver spoon in my mouth,
I's the only one he ever knew about,
That took that spoon and spit it out;
Well, I was raised on our family ranch,
I was in line, on the workin' branch,
But, Grandpa died 'fore he got it all set,
They split that ranch and we're fightin' yet;
So, I'm off workin' for another man,
And it's hard to pay for a good top hand,
As ranchers go, this one's top-notch,
Like a good calf horse, he doesn't scotch;
But, I'm not gettin' ahead this way,
I'll go find somethin' else, some day,
I've got to settle in and work right now,
Aw, get outta the tack room, you danged old cow.
© 2010, Stuart Hooker
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Stuart told us: "The
Boss's Saddle" is very personal to me, as I am still attempting to settle
my part of our family ranch in New Mexico with a family member. I have
been working away from the ranch during this prolonged attempt. It's easy
to get "wrapped up in" the work, but once in a while I get to thinking of
how it should have been with us all working together like we used to.
Then, suddenly, something happens to pull me back into the reality of my
job and situation, like the old cow sticking her head into the tack room.
