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TIM DUNNAM
Big Sandy, Texas
About Tim Dunnam

 

 

Cutter Bob

He moves his careful, knowing eyes
over the heifers in the huddle.
He already knows the one he wants,
and he has to be real subtle.

He sees her there with head held low;
she tries her best at hiding.
A tiger stripe with wild white eyes—
this could mean some riding.

He nudges Bob, his young bay horse,
in the direction of the cattle.
He can feel Bob's muscles tense a bit
and he melts into the saddle.

He wants to make the first cut deep,
and tiger makes it a cinch.
He's working against the time clock now,
and would like to avoid the pinch.

He approaches from the left side
and rides right up to Tiger.
She goes out the right side,
with five more head to hide her.

The turn-back men have done their job;
they stop them short and sweetly.
The rider bring, his young horse up;
it's up to Bob completely.

The six head start to trickle by
to head back for the pack.
The rider sets his bay horse up
to get set for the attack.

The tiger stripe now feels the heat,
her nostrils wide and blowing.
She'll teach young Bob a thing or two,
about cutting cows and showing.

Bob's ears are up, his neck is bowed
as he feels the cue of his rider.
Old Tiger makes a dive for free,
but Bob's right there beside her.

She's bellied out along the fence,
Bob's running neck and neck.
Tiger spins hard on her haunches now:
Try this, Bob, by heck!

She throws a fake, and comes right back
and "nineties" on a nickel.
The young bay horse is working clean,
his rider in the middle.

She ducks, she turns, she switches ends,
there is madness in her movement.
Dang that Bob, he's still right there;
he's showing some real improvement.

Old Tiger stripe is trembling now,
she's foaming at the mouth.
When she gets through with you, Bob boy,
you won't know north from south.

Her head is down, she rumbles low,
she's coming in a run.
Hey, Bob boy, lookee here—
Let's try this on for fun!

The one thing Bob had never learned
from the training Of his master,
Was how to turn the head-on rush
of a tiger-striped disaster.

Bob's eyes turn white and then rolled back,
and he quickly followed suit.
His rider said "Oh, no Bob!"
and then he hollered "Shoot!"

He tried hard to turn Bob back,
but Bob was having none of it.
He didn't like this game, he didn't want that cow,
and they could take this job and shove it!

Well old tiger's out to pasture now,
raising calves to eat.
Cutter Bob is on a dude ranch
Where his riders are neat and sweet.

© 2007, Tim Dunnam
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

 

Steer Crazy 
I would like to take this time to talk,
On a subject to me that's dear.
And that is about the things we do ;
To make that bull a steer.
 
They're not bulls; they used to be.
Bulls are stubborn too.
But, cut those "hangy" down parts off,
They ought to work for you.
 
You try to drive them, make them go;
It's worse than herding goats.
If they're not running through the fence,
They're laying down to bloat.
 
I know their brains aren't in those parts,
But it surely makes me wonder.
When you cut those "hangy" down things off,
They go nuts by thunder.
 
They will lick your horse between the eyes;
And kiss him on the nose.
They stick their head up under his tail,
And get you snatched out of your clothes.
 
About the time you think "Ok,"
We've got them on the trail.
Some "bull-less" little used-to-be,  
Will set a wayward sail.
 
Around and round the tamarack bush;
You go to the point of beers.
While the heel flies make a meal of you.
A fool's being made by the steers.
 
You finally get them in the pens;
To make your feedlot cuts.
They stick their heads all in one corner,
And show you all their butts.
 
You whip and cuss, poke and prod,
To loosen up the jam.
Then dog comes in from the other side,
And you get trampled in the ground. 

You finally get your cutting done,
And head them down the alley.
The semi-truck is backing up;
For the trucker's grand finale.
 
You push a bunch upon the scale;
To take their average weight.
Then run them off the other side;
To the truck, and their final fate.
 
The cussing has only just begun;
As the truckers load their freight.
They pack them in from front to rear,
Then drop the jail house gate.
 
You watch the trucks pull off the ramp;
Goodbye you crazy geezer's,
in about six months it's pay back time.
I'll see ya'll in my freezer.

© 2007, Tim Dunnam
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

Tim told us: This poem "Steer Crazy" came about after several years of performing this out-patient surgery and then chasing the by-product through the Beaver River Bottom of the Oklahoma Panhandle as well as the Sabine River Bottom's of East Texas. If a person could just sit and watch the antics of the steers, it would be funny! But other than that, "call the dog, tie down your hat, snap on the taps, and ice down the beer, it's going to be a long day!"



About Tim Dunnam:

I  live in Big Sandy, Texas with my wife and 3 children. I lived the "cowboy life" for 10 years and now I have my own business in construction. I enjoy writing and reading poetry
 

 

 

 

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