Saddlin’ with Bob

AHHHawww♪

Saddlin’ with Bob

Morning in cow country

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

I fed at 4:15.

It was as dark as ol’ Colely’s … no, we can’t say that anymore, but, take my word for it. It was dark. The equine crew had come up to help me get it all done.

Bailey had nickered at me as soon as she heard me come out the back door. Sebas had stood in the door of the hay shed trying to get an early start. Tom stood quietly until I got a fork of hay into Sebas’ feeder. He then helped me similarly with growing impatience.

I reached for Papolote’s tail as I swung myself through the square tube fencing, caught it, and let him pull me on through and upright. He had walked in front of me like a plow horse as I reined him with his tail all the while with his ears back as I turned his feeders over so I could throw hay. He and Bailey had upended them cleaning up from last night. It is their nightly trick.

I had reminded ‘Pop’ what a sorry no good for nothing son-of-gun he actually is. He kept his ears pinned back in agreement.

The Texas Playboys are on the Air!

I always give the horses an hour to eat before I saddle. That gives me a chance to check the computer to see if I’ve been hacked again!

I’ll shave and shower and get dressed pulling on my boots to punctuate it. Since it had frosted, I put a felt hat on.

Walking back to the saddle shop where every Westerner article I have ever written has been conjured, the day started. What a place of history tack rooms are. Mine is no different. So many special things are there.

I started a CD. You should have guessed already it was Bob Wills.

Today would be a strict riding day so there was no reason to hustle. Only Leonard, Jack Moore and I would be picking up cattle in the Valles pasture that needed to be in the Alamo pasture. If there are days of western allure, this was such a day.

I turned the volume up, left the door open, and walked out into the break of day to catch my ride. Bob was lifting my spirits … “Oh, here is Johnny Gimble!”

AHHHawww♪

Papalote was nowhere to be seen. He knows what 4:15 feedings mean. I knew he’d be in the northeast corner of the arena as quiet as a mouse.

“Who … me?” he’d project.

He and Bailey had both worked hard last weekend when we gathered and branded late calves. It was Tom’s turn and I walked directly to him and caught him with usual ease. What a horse he is.

He’s too tall for my growing preference for Shetland pony heights, but he approaches the lofty aspect of a good horse. He has more cow in him than a pickup load of cowboys. He tickles me when he gets into a mood and wants to take control of certain situations like climbing a steep hill. He knows what he is doing, but he’ll get to making switchbacks and forget to stop when he gets to the top of the hill! He is great in rocks, goes and then goes more, gets a bit nervous in close quarters and needs some support, and my oldest granddaughter just loves him. He is just a sweet, sweet horse.

I have only one bit that I’ll ride him in. It is a wider medium port bit that I bought at Circle N in Tulare years ago. He carries it very quietly and most cueing will not be signaled through it. He’ll listen to my feet, and, with Tom, I’ll wear an old pair of Kelly’s with rock grinders.

He stuck his nose in the grain pan that I offer each horse as I groom them.

He always sensitive on his back and hates a round hair stripper. He’s bad about rolling in a wet hole, and, when I have to use one to get the crud off him, I’m careful with it. He relaxes when I go back to a horse hair curry. He gets antsy again when I comb his mane out, but he won’t get silly over the ordeal.

What makes Bob Holler expectedly invoked a little two steppin’ across the space between where Tom was tied and the door to the saddle room. He watched me with mild interest as the spirit of the morning lifted yet more.

That morning the saddle I built in 2005 for Sebas was the selection. It is 7” across the front of the bars with a gullet height of 9” so I pad it with an extra lift pad, but it sits right on Tom and never moves. As I drug it back through the door, Stay All Night (Stay a Little Longer) was playing and I was reminded of the dim memories I have of old time dances at Cliff when us kids went to sleep on blankets against the outer walls as our parents continued to dance.

Blue Bonnet Lane

If there is a song of lingering memory that captures the essence of Texas and New Mexico ranching history it has to be Blue Bonnet Lane. In our hearts will always remain the joy of youthful gatherings against the backdrop that made us what we are.

Depending on the mood the song can be blue or just plain happy. This morning it was the latter. It is esoteric western and Texas has to share it with us in equal measure. We may not have blue bonnets, but we are rooted in Texas ranch heritage that dates even before the War of Southern Rights. We fought our way out of Texas to fight for our lives in the wilds of New Mexico. That fight continues to this day.

With that, I threw the saddle up onto Tom and he braced himself for the impact.

As I went through the process of setting it and getting ready to pull the cinch, I was reminded I do it exactly like I learned by watching my Grandpa Albert. The only difference is that I buckle my cinches to a tug on the saddle so I don’t wind up dragging them around.

I pulled the cinch only to waltz this time across to the light still flooding through the open door. Yessiree Bob!

Popolote and Bailey were now convinced they weren’t going so they were hanging over the fence negotiating for a bit of what was in the grain pan … it was going to be a good day.

Big balls in Cowtown … we’ll dance around

Or, Milk Cow Blues for that matter …

I will invariably remember the story Nana told me many times of the neighbor who had also lost her milk cow. As the days went by, the crisis grew to extreme. In those days, family milk cows were not just luxuries. They were vital.

Finally, someone found the old cow in the bottom of a hand dug well that had partially collapsed. She had grazed up to it and fell in. They were able to hoist the cow out. Not too much worse for the wear, she was still wet and the crisis was resolved.

I retrieved a bottle of olive oil and cut a piece of shearling. I wiped the seat and the fenders of the saddle with the oil to the swing of th’ Boys and brought those wear points up to a high sheen before making a last sweep across the cantle binding and extending my hand off to an exceptional and dramatic curlee cue (or whatever they call those moves)!

Rather than toss the used but clean shearling, I then reached for a container of Lexol and swapped the headstall and reins of the bridle with that bit. I also scrubbed the shanks of the bit with a wire brush bringing a shiny look of used but maintained to the whole deal. I hung the bridle over the horn of the saddle along with the set of chinks that Dusty made me years ago. Of all my leggin’s, they remain a favored pair.

I threw the lead rope over the swell of the saddle and offered the open door of the trailer to Tom. He loaded himself.

When You Leave Amarillo (Turn out the Lights) had played, and, appropriately, the sun was starting to hint of its presence to the morning.

Crippled Turkey was about to be concluded as I walked back into the saddle shop. There was an inch of coffee left in my tin cup so I sat down in my chair, propped my spurred boots on the desk, and savored the last of it and the song.

It was going to be a good day … Yessiree, Bob.

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “AHHHawww♪”

In the month since the passing of my mother I've been reluctant to do my Song Of The Day feature, but Wilmeth's tack room and the mention of the Bob Wills tunes has me back in the mood.  

From the order of the songs he mentions, he must have been listening to the Bob Wills For The Last Time CD.  The original album was recorded in 1973.  Wills had said he wanted to do one more recording session with the Texas Playboys and 1973 was the fortieth anniversary of the band.  They had a homecoming that included two recording sessions with the band and some special guests like Merle Haggard.  Wills was there for the first session, but in a wheelchair as he had suffered a stroke three years before.  He didn't make it to the second session as he had another stroke that night and then passed away.

I've spliced together two of the songs mentioned by Wilmeth, the Playboy Theme Song and Stay All Night (Stay A Little Longer) and you'll see I've made a special dedication in the video.  Hope you enjoy.  

 http://youtu.be/h7W367q7ZrE