Common language on fauna betrays an anthropocentric bias … “Words such as ‘pets,’ ‘wildlife,’ and ‘vermin’ are derogatory … ” says the director of the Oxford Center for Animal Ethics. I imagine there are people in England who take the director seriously. But, as we watch this once-powerful nation disintegrate before our eyes, it may be observed that it has truly gone to the dogs. Even using similes like “sly as a fox,’ ‘drunk as a skunk,’ or ‘perky as a porpoise’ are considered animal abuse. Actually, the word ‘Animal’ is not approved and the description ‘Differentiated Being’ is preferred, according to the director.

It’s 6 ½ hours from Sierraville to Modesto and the packing house. Karl had put together a load of cull cows. While unloading, a bony gummer mama cow, who looked like a ragged shag carpet hangin’ over a sawhorse, balked, backed up and fell between the chute and the truck!

There is more than one definition for pasture roping, as Carter pointed out to me. It was during calving season. He and his wife were making the 5 p.m. heifer check.

It was a chance for Kurt to shine. He was father of the bride. Kurt is a seasoned, tough-hided, bow-legged Wyoming cowboy. He was not the kind of person you would ask to help you select the bridesmaids’ dresses or the pattern on your china.

I was having a nice chat with a ranch woman in New Mexico. We wound up discussing children. Then the subject of sons came up. We noted the special relationship between mothers and sons. Cheri, the ranch woman, said that her son had been a dutiful cowboy ranch kid but had other plans for the future.  

I’m sitting here reading the newspaper about farms in Missouri and Louisiana being deliberately flooded to prevent inundation of towns on the Mississippi River.

Ron said it was just one of those days. In fact, it was the day before the regular auction in Ft. Pierre, South Dakota. He had sorted off a truckload of cows he needed to get rid of. They were in a rain-soaked pasture down by the road that had no corral. No sweat; he and his son hauled a set of portable panels and ramp to a wire fence by the road and assembled a loading pen. It took considerable cowboy skills to ease the bunch into the strange set-up.

To my aching friend, Thanks for writing about your mother. I empathize with your need to let the air out before you blow your top. It’s the reversal of roles. Now you are the parent, the responsible one. She is the one unable to do her part. You have a particularly crushing affliction to deal with: Alzheimer’s. It is a slow poison. It stretches the heartstrings until the one you care for becomes a stranger.

Branding season. Springtime west of the Mississippi. Long days in the saddle. Sitting on a horse miles from nowhere, it seems, trying to spot cows on the gather, silence except for the thud of your horse’s hooves. You might as well be on a fishing boat in the middle of nowhere watching the waves. The more I work with real cowboys, the more I realize how little I know. This means no disrespect for those cowboys who achieve fame as our rodeo heroes, or noted horse clinicians, trick riders, ropers and movie stars. They have chosen one specialty from the many skills that everyday real cowboys use daily, and then become an authority on that facet of cowboyosity.