LINE RIDER
The mounted rider is motionless on a small knoll. Even the dog lies quiet. It is early morning and the sun is warm but not to hot. That will come later in the day. At that time the dog will seek shade and find little in the treeless landscape. By noon time fleecy white clouds will briefly shield the land as their shadows march slowly across the grass. The sea of grass, one writer aptly called it, as he saw the taller stalks waving in the wind. Today all is quiet. Nothing moves except the grazing cattle as he quietly pushes them from the bed ground. He will have them reach the perimeter of their grazing about midday and they will perhaps lie down for a while before some instinct within, moves them to start the trek back to water and the bed ground. If it is spring they may not return 'til the shadows are long. In the hot days of summer they will quickly move out into the wind in early morning, seeking the higher hills and the wind. Standing, heads into the gentle or the high wind, they seek relief from the heat and flies. Here they will remain until thirst forces them to go for water. With them but usually in the background is the horse, rider and his dog. Most days are long and quiet. It is a peaceful and slow paced life. How does he pass the time? It all depends! He may be reading a Latin textbook or singing an old range ballad. Reading Latin? you say. And why not? Many of these were gifted men and some had a good education. Who knows what drew them to seek a life of solitude on the plains. Also many were mere boys, born here, but became men at an early age. They may have spent few years in the formal classroom but unlettered they were not. During times of physical inactivity the mind often soars to heights often unknown. ^_^ There is no stereotype here. There is an old poem that comes back to me from former days. I do not know the author. It is entitled "A House By the Side of the Road." It ends like this: Some are good Some are bad Some are weak Some are strong Some are foolish So am I. Of such were the men and boys who spent their time with the cattle. Their role was little different from those who followed the herds on a thousand hills in ancient Bible times. But, do not be deceived dear readers. There were times of distress and even life threatening incidents. Thunder, lightening, rain and hail! Storms did come and the count must be accounted for. There was a rule. One must produce a live critter or a piece of hide bearing the right brand. Probably the spring, summer and fall were the best times. Cattle might grow fat on the grass but those that were wintered here had a rough time. Some grass was reserved for winter use but the lack of shelter was a problem. Deep snow was a disaster. I have been told of incidents where the caretaker would go through the herd with a sack of ear corn and give the weaker ones an ear. Somehow livestock did survive our winters but the death loss was severe until providing winter feed in addition to the grass became a standard practice. It might be that the reader would be interested to know that I spent the winter of '37 and '38 on a ranch just twenty miles east of the mountains near Colorado Springs. The ranch owned 900 mother cows and no hay was ever fed except to horses and the hospital bunch. Every other day we would go out with the cake wagon and try to give each cow two pounds of cotton seed cake. They ate sage brush and grass for forage.
The winter storms were nightmares for the stockmen. Some ranchers held steers in the summer and did not winter them. They thus spared themselves the problems of the long winters. It was not an easy life but it had its rewards. Man seems to adapt to his surroundings. These men and boys were no different. The good times and the bad came and went. The ability to ride the rough string was an asset and some were experts. Handling cattle and doing what must often be done was no place for the faint heart. Remember this was a time of unfenced and even some unclaimed range. Ranchers claimed the right to graze it because they were there first. There were dividing lines and the riders holding the cattle observed them. This is why they were called line riders. Cowboys! Nonsense!! that word was coined by armchair dreamers, in their romantic notions of the old west. Cowpunchers, hardly. That word was first used to describe the men who literally prodded the cattle up the chutes and into the rail cars at the shipping points such as Abeline and Dodge City. When my father would talk of his boyhood, he would tell us of these things. He watched the free range disappear as he grew to manhood. It would be correct to say that he was a boy line rider and he had a reputation for his ability to ride the rough string. Like many men who lived a life of exposure to the elements, he cashed in his chips at the age of fifty five. Remembering the old days is bittersweet but time does not wait.