Cowboys in the USA

Mike Leco — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 15:47:00 GMT

The cowboys of the old West are still a cherished legend in the USA. Many books, movies and songs have been written about these rustic characters that populated the western parts of our country in the wild old days. They reached their peak in the latter half of the ninteenth century. After the great civil war, several million head of unmarked and unclaimed cattle roamed the grasslands of Texas. There was a ready market for the beef in our eastern cities. Early entrepreneurs hired herds of cowboys to round up that cattle and to transport it to the railroad terminals in Kansas, Missouri and Colorado via massive "trail drives".

This era of the cowboy, was greatly diminished by the beginning of the twentieth century when the railroads were extended into the wilds of Texas, Oklahoma, Wyoming and Montana. It was no longer necessary for cowboys to drive cattle long distances to market. The railroads came to the west and were able to transport the cattle directly from the rangelands to the markets. Soon trucks, helicopters, ATVs and snowmobiles replaced the horses and the traditional cowboys in manging cattle on the ranches.

Today, there are only a few old-fashioned cowboys who ride the range and tend to the cattle from atop a horse. Many of them work on dude ranches escorting tourists on trail rides while tending a few cattle in the old manner as a live show for the visitors. Most of the modern cowboys practice their skills of roping, riding and steer wrestling not to work with cattle, but to compete on the rodeo circuit for money and prizes. Quite a few of them wear the fancy cowboy garb to the nightclubs and dance halls but never come close to cow. Those are the "rhinestone cowboys".

Despite all of this, the cowboys are not gone. They are still alive and well in many parts of the USA especially in the western states. The modern cowboys may not be on a horse riding the range and herding cattle, but they have that same cowboy mentality as the old-time legendary breed. They are the men, and a few women, that love the independance of working outdoors, that can't stand the confinement and the restrictions of civilization, that don't want the responsibilities of a traditional family or a career.

Many of these modern-age cowboys work at part-time, temporary or seasonal jobs so they can maintain their independance from the responsibilities and commitments of career positions. Some of them become tour guides, ranch hands or loborers on dude ranches or other tourist resorts, as that allows them to work outdoors during the pleasant summer seasons. In the fall and winter, they might work in construction, truck driving, stable maintenance or a myriad of other subsistence jobs. They seldom work in factories or indoor jobs that confines them. They seldom stay in one place for a long time.

I was driving through Colorado with my wife, and we stopped in a small mountain town a hundred miles or so west of Denver. She decided to go shopping in the quaint little "general store" near the edge of the single main shopping street. I decided to wait out front enjoying the fantastic mountain vistas and the very pleasant summer weather. "Take a load off a them feet and set a spell" came an invitation from the lone figure sitting on the long wooden bench in front of the store.

The man was of indeterminate age. His face was weathered and wrinkled as if he had spent many years outdoors, but his eyes were as clear and bright as those of a young boy and his body seemed fit and strong. He was dressed in a slightly-frayed flannel shirt and a pair of clean new jeans held up by a leather belt with a huge turquois encrusted silver buckle. He wore a pair of cowboy boots. Not those snake-skin polished boots you see on the dance-hall cowboys, but a scrufty pair of work boots with nearly worn-out soles. Tilted back on the top of his head was a well-worn beige cowboy hat with a permanently sweat-stained ring around the base of its crown. A large black dog slept at his feet while he carved on a chunk of wood with an old pocket knife.

His name was Bob. He worked off and on at one of the local ranches, taking care of the horses and guiding the tourists on trail rides up into the high country. Sometimes, he worked for a few weeks with the local road crew doing manual labor. He didn't think he could ever work in an office or a factory. To him, that sounded too much like being in a jail. He once spent nearly six months in jail in Oklahoma, and it nearly killed him. No way, he wanted to do that again. In the winters, he usually drove a school bus, and he liked that, because it only required him to work about four hours a day. All in all, he made enough money to get by. He had a small trailer parked behind Charlie Adam's barn. He heated it with firwood he chopped himself. He didn't need much money to get along.

That was his pickup truck parked in front of the store he pointed out. It was an old beat-up Ford much in need of new paint. In the back was a worn saddle and two mud-encrusted shovels.

I asked if he was born in the area. He said that he was originally born in Nebraska, but had not returned since he went off to the army as a teenager. He spent nearly ten years working on a ranch in Montana until the owner died and his widow sold it off to an easterner. He came to Colorado nearly twenty years ago and worked for a small gold mine until he grew tired of it and moved on. He was married in California and lived in a regular suburban home for four years until his wife could no longer put up with him and threw him out. Fortunately, they did not have any children, so the divorce was a welcome relief for the both of them. He returned to Colorado about six years ago, because he liked the country around here.

When he finished his work for the day, he liked to come sit by the general store with his dog blackie, because "you get to meet so many interesting people here."

My wife had finished her shopping, and it was time for us to continue our journey, so I bid Bob a farewell. "Take it easy, pardner." he cautioned me, and waved goodbye as we drove away. I believe I had met a real cowboy.

Life in the USA : Colorado

Cowboys in the USA