Dave
Well-known member
So you came over Shirttail after driving through the Rye Valley sage brush? I hate driving that road stone cold sober, wide awake in the middle of the day.
Yep, shirttail sounds right. Try it with a few inches of snow on it. Those curves as you rise out of the valley and up to Gold Ridge, are not friendly even chained on all 4 in a four wheel drive. I have no idea how it is these days, but back then having your life extra right with Jesus was a good idea. One old rancher told me they depended on their prayers getting priority attention.So you came over Shirttail after driving through the Rye Valley sage brush? I hate driving that road stone cold sober, wide awake in the middle of the day.
Are you C Henry? I am guessing you are also a guitar picker.Old Cows and Cowboys
There comes a time in every life
where age catches up with youth.
And as it does it's hard to swallow,
But still and all, it's truth.
A cowboys days are numbered
by boots he's worn till tattered,
and dreams that change with seasons
mostly broken up and battered.
And the cows he tends have limits
that are counted by their births,
the leaving of a mark to say
they once had walked the earth.
The cull comes quick
for those that quit,
or lose their way
And stumble.
The ones that last are
those with grit,
the ones that
rarely grumble.
But the time still comes
like boots wear out,
Time finds us soon enough
as we all know, no doubt.
C. Henry Martens
I painted that from a guy performing at a pickin' contest.Are you C Henry? I am guessing you are also a guitar picker.
The neighbor's wife use to be the 911 operator. Mid winter several years ago. There was a wreck somewhere by Baker. They had a jillion dollar horse in the trailer. They had a ride for the horse but west bound on the freeway was closed. The ride was stuck at the Rye Valley exit. 911 called the neighbor to come get the horse and deliver it to the Rye Valley exit. He did it but then he couldn't get back home. So he chains up all four wheels plus the trailer. Drives up Dixie Creek to Rye Valley and then down Shirttail in over a foot of snow. Insanity!!! I would have just slept in the truck until they opened the freeway.Yep, shirttail sounds right. Try it with a few inches of snow on it. Those curves as you rise out of the valley and up to Gold Ridge, are not friendly even chained on all 4 in a four wheel drive. I have no idea how it is these days, but back then having your life extra right with Jesus was a good idea. One old rancher told me they depended on their prayers getting priority attention.
I have a friend who was raised on a big family ranch between Condon and Arlington. They summered the cows on a big range down at Rudio. In his very young days they were still driving the cows from Condon to Rudio in the spring and back again in the fall. That has to be a 4 day drive, maybe more. He said his aunts and female cousins were all pretty handy having worked on that drive many times. He said you didn't refer to them as "cowgirls" because to them a cowgirl was a buckle bunny at the rodeo. But them them that they are a pretty good cowboy and watch them puff up with pride.What is a Cowgirl
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
Oct. 12 2022
I never wore jeans tight and adorned with pearl
Maybe that is why, no one ever called me a cowgirl
I wore all cotton relaxed jeans for the cattle call
Branding calves while for their mama they bawl
My boots were plain cowhide from former beef
And not made from stingrays from the barrier reef
My boots had semi round toes and usable high heels
And not made for dancing like the Hollywood deals
My boots had tall shafts, way up to the knee
Covered with jeans so no rattlesnake could see
I seldom rode a horse because our ranch had no need
Not even for a working horse, let alone a rodeo steed
Yep, no one ever called me a cowgirl
Regardless of how you spin or twirl
I never wore a big buckle diggin into my belly
So all the cowboys would exclaim, "Whoa Nelly"
Even though I relieved young bulls
Removing their bloodline jewels
While the wrangler boys stepped aside and choked with hurl
No one, whether cowboys or wranglers, ever called me cowgirl
Shouldn't horse mounted women that never worked cattle
Be called horsegirls, not cowgirls, I question with tattle
Never being called a cowgirl, I have no remorse
Because I worked cattle, with and without a horse
So I call myself a cowgirl in jest
Now on the keyboard, I become a pest