It was the springtime of 1984 and I also ended up being solitary and seeking for the “Old West” adventure.

It was the springtime of 1984 and I also ended up being solitary and seeking for the “Old West” adventure.

City Slickers

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A cowboy in your mind, I jumped at the chance to be involved in a weeklong cattle drive on Stroh Ranch – 44,000 acres in southern Colorado which was house with a 3,000 mind of Longhorn cattle. The outfitter whom place it all together ensured our cowboy experience would be as authentic possible – we consumed from the chuckwagon, slept on a lawn, and bathed in the river. Additional care had been taken to ensure no motorized vehicles did actually ruin the impression. We were stepping back in time and residing the life of a cowboy in the 1880s.

Our group of twenty “city slickers” quickly fell into the routine that is daily. We were jolted awake each at five a.m. by the clanging of the c k’s iron triangle morning. A hearty morning meal of bacon and eggs and pancakes or biscuits, washed straight down with strong cowboy coffee, had been served at six and now we had been saddled and away on the range by seven l king for wily Longhorns. And I also do mean wily! It was like trying to round a herd up of deer! Rarely having seen a human, they were cagey and fleet of f t and may climb up a canyon wall surface that were an ascent that is vertical so distinctive from the docile Ebony Angus I had worked formerly. The landscapes ended up being tough therefore the times very long and grueling, with many seeing 25 kilometers into the seat.

We not only rounded up the cattle and drove them towards the house ranch, we assisted brand name, ear tag and castrate the calf crop (while their anxious mothers bawled in a deafening cacophony of concern), then drove them back to their respective pastures within the rolling grasslands and deep sandstone canyons for the ranch. At one time we found ourselves driving the reluctant cows into the teeth of the spring that is raging, whenever all they wanted to do was stop and turn end. Our horses thought that would be an idea that is g d look at these guys well, so we had to help keep urging our mounts on.

During the night, tired towards the bone, we tossed our bedrolls down amidst the cholla and cactus that is prickly pear crawled in, praying the heat we produced within would not attract some rattlesnake seeking a warm spot to relax for the night time.

We saw several of the creatures during the even killed and ate one, but, fortunately, none tried to share our beds week.

Throughout that week, we covered lots of ground, ate lots of dirt, and drank water from our canteens, that was, within the terms of just one wannabe cowboy, “like drinking a warm enema.” We carried pliers to pull the cactus thorns from our horses’ legs and treated our very own blisters from using t -new b ts and jeans. Believe me, there was clearly a g d amount of bl d, sweat and rips to go around. But we had been tough. We persevered. Most likely, we had been cowboys, if you don’t as s n as we started the week, then at the least by the finish from it.

One of our team, a store owner from Pennsylvania, personified the transformation that happened in the different people from all walks of life who had shared this experience that is once-in-a-lifetime. He related how he had not felt comfortable with wearing his cowboy hat on the plane trip out to Colorado and therefore didn’t do so as we sat around our last campfire. “But, by God, he said, ” I’m gonna wear it goin’ home!” He felt he had received the title of “cowboy,” and indeed we all had.

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