With the passing of Cowboyup into the never never land of over forty, the thread about remembering and you need to be 40 to get it, I dug out the pictures my mother put in a collage for my 40th birthday, put some memories to them. I grew up in Idaho, on my grandpa's Hereford ranch. Don't anyone hold it against me. As kids we were on horses soon as you could get on one, cheating was acceptable, getting on was not picture perfect, extra points were awarded for imagination. When we weren't harrassing magpies, gophers, or any other small animal, we were swimming in the ditches, catching frogs, fish, climbing trees, building forts, hunting with BB guns, hide and seek on a half section, no bears out tonight, everything possible. No Nintendo, very little TV until after dark. The social cops would have my mother in the pen for the way we were if she did this to kids now days. Makes me wonder about todays youth, they don't know what they are missing. Anyway, the hoodlums that raised me were old school ranchers. Whenever the old men got a chance they had the cards out to play pitch, not for money, for fun. I knew how to play by the time I was 5 or 6 years old. These guys also smoked Bull Durhams, I could roll my own by ten, knew all of the cuss words and could spit and do any disgusting thing imaginable. Have not died yet. These guys were characters, they taught me well. Here goes.
LOOKIN’ BACK FROM FORTY
Things are sure different now, compared to when I was a kid.
Very few things these days, are done the way Grandpa did.
Compared to those days, some things are pretty easy now,
About all that’s the same is making a living off a cow.
Back then it was mostly horned Herefords out there on the range
Now there’s all kinds, almost everybody has made that change.
There’s still the same kinda people, making a living off of grass,
That I’m sure is one thing, that never will pass.
Neighbors from near and far would come to help you out
Cause all of them knew what being a neighbor is all about.
When the branding fire was started, everyone shows up,
Young, old, men and women, old dogs even the new pup.
The ropers would drag the calves in to get the marking done
The ground crew then took over, and this was called great fun.
Branded, ear marked, vaccinated, and you had to get rid of the horn
This was before people removed them, even before they were born.
Bull calves became steers, with a cut from a knife,
Growing big and fat on grass, is their lot in life.
Heifers had it some easier, as that cut was not in their fate,
Their future holds green pastures, and a fancy bull for a date.
Kids that weren’t old enough to do the work just yet
Would crowd around the fire, then the stage was set.
Cooking rocky mountain oysters, on a green willow stick
Staying upwind of the smoke, was almost always the trick.
These kids weren’t coddled, they earned everything they had,
Most of them couldn’t wait, to be just like their dad.
They can’t wait to grow up, to work along side the crew,
With horses, men and cattle, that is how they grew.
When the work was all done, the critters all back out on grass,
Out would come the card deck, leisure time had come to pass.
A few games of pitch, before heading down the road to home with spouse,
Time for men to have some fun, while the women are in the house.
When it was time to go home, the kids are hard to find,
They are out exploring, enlightening their mind.
They smell of wood smoke, hands covered with grime and dirt.
Had more fun, no one notices that someone had gotten hurt.
Best part of the whole process, you know down deep in your heart,
The neighbors still have theirs to do, and you have to do your part.
It will all take place again, different pasture, different place,
All the same people, doing the same job, for a different face.
LOOKIN’ BACK FROM FORTY
Things are sure different now, compared to when I was a kid.
Very few things these days, are done the way Grandpa did.
Compared to those days, some things are pretty easy now,
About all that’s the same is making a living off a cow.
Back then it was mostly horned Herefords out there on the range
Now there’s all kinds, almost everybody has made that change.
There’s still the same kinda people, making a living off of grass,
That I’m sure is one thing, that never will pass.
Neighbors from near and far would come to help you out
Cause all of them knew what being a neighbor is all about.
When the branding fire was started, everyone shows up,
Young, old, men and women, old dogs even the new pup.
The ropers would drag the calves in to get the marking done
The ground crew then took over, and this was called great fun.
Branded, ear marked, vaccinated, and you had to get rid of the horn
This was before people removed them, even before they were born.
Bull calves became steers, with a cut from a knife,
Growing big and fat on grass, is their lot in life.
Heifers had it some easier, as that cut was not in their fate,
Their future holds green pastures, and a fancy bull for a date.
Kids that weren’t old enough to do the work just yet
Would crowd around the fire, then the stage was set.
Cooking rocky mountain oysters, on a green willow stick
Staying upwind of the smoke, was almost always the trick.
These kids weren’t coddled, they earned everything they had,
Most of them couldn’t wait, to be just like their dad.
They can’t wait to grow up, to work along side the crew,
With horses, men and cattle, that is how they grew.
When the work was all done, the critters all back out on grass,
Out would come the card deck, leisure time had come to pass.
A few games of pitch, before heading down the road to home with spouse,
Time for men to have some fun, while the women are in the house.
When it was time to go home, the kids are hard to find,
They are out exploring, enlightening their mind.
They smell of wood smoke, hands covered with grime and dirt.
Had more fun, no one notices that someone had gotten hurt.
Best part of the whole process, you know down deep in your heart,
The neighbors still have theirs to do, and you have to do your part.
It will all take place again, different pasture, different place,
All the same people, doing the same job, for a different face.