Post by jimmy on Aug 25, 2017 23:33:00 GMT
I hope you are still checking in.
Here is a little cowboy story, among many, a man named Bill Mooney has been telling in his elder years..
I thought I would share it, since it gives a glimpse into an American scene people know little about, yet has an enormous influence in American culture, and is one of a few things left that are uniquely American.
The Big Outfits
They say it’s hard to get the old time cowboys to talk about it. I don’t blame them, and I can understand why they don’t want to talk about it. It took me 34 years to come out of my cave. Oh, if I were around cowboys or friends I would talk a little. When I left the brush I worked for and retired from Nevada DOT. All most of them knew was I used to be a cowboy on some big ranches north of Elko, NV.
So why didn’t I talk about it? Simple, most people can’t understand it. They just can’t grasp the size of those ranches, the number of horses and cattle, the living in tents and eating in the wagons. Desert heat or blizzard snow, it made no difference, we were horseback. Very, very seldom did we use trucks. We rode, usually at the trot. And when you left in the morning you had better be dressed and prepared for the day’s weather conditions as there was no turning back. We traveled light, no water or sack lunches. All I ever carried on me was toilet paper in my shirt pocket (that’s how you tell a real cowboy) and a pocket knife for marking calves.
And readers, when you finish this you will ask yourselves…is that right, was it really like that, I’m not sure if I believe all this. And that, folks, is why the old timers don’t care. That’s why they don’t want to be interviewed, especially by strangers.
My school was the Owyhee Desert of northern Nevada. Some call it the High Desert, others the Great Basin. I was on the buckaroo wagons---big circles, long ropes, and slick horns. I rode with some big names. Years later people would tell me, “You rode with legends, tell us about it.”
I didn’t stay on the big ranches for very long, ’71 to ’75. And that is the big reason I will not claim to be the spokesman for the buckaroo or an historian for any of that time era. To this day I still don’t talk too much about it. Nowadays I write about it, but only if I am in the mood. I am not a journalist, you can’t assign a project to me and expect me to go write about it. The only things I can write about are my personal experiences. I have to see or hear or feel it to write about it. In other words, I had to be there. In some of my cowboy stories I will mention what someone else had told me, but for the most part, all were my personal experiences.
When I was there about the only time you heard about a slick fork saddle, a mecate, or a spade bit was in a Capriola’s ad in the Western Horsemen. The buckaroos used slick fork saddles and the rest, but at that time Texas and Montana styles of saddles and bridles were the norm for the rest of America. How things have changed. The buckaroo style is, literally, in all the lower 48 states. I figured that since the buckaroo style was the way I learned then I would just stay in Nevada; it was as simple as that. If others didn’t like my style, then so be it. Am I proud now that the buckaroo style has become so popular? Personally, I really don’t care.
So what finally brought me out of my cave? I don’t know, a number of things I suppose. For years people would tell me I needed to write my stories down before I forgot them. Getting older and slower certainly had something to do with it. I have beaten pneumonia, tobacco, alcohol, and (knock on wood) cancer. But when push comes to shove I guess what really did it was one day I was telling my wife a cowboy story and she said, “It’s up to you, but it would be nice if you wrote this down for others to enjoy.” What could I say, just what could I do?
Many people are now familiar with the buckaroo style. I have read on FB about all the definitions of the buckaroo. The buckaroo does this, the buckaroo does that, or the buckaroo doesn’t do this and he doesn’t do that. May the Good Lord give me patience.
My personal opinion? A buckaroo is a cowboy---nothing more, nothing less. Actually, we used the word cowboy more than buckaroo. We used both words as nouns and verbs. If you want to get technical, I guess you could use them as adjectives, too. A buckaroo rides full time, that’s what he does. There aren’t a lot of full time riding jobs anymore, but that is certainly not the fault of the cowboy. For me, the riding was done on the ranch and out in the brush---the wagons. Years ago if you told me you were a buckaroo I would assume you were on one of the wagons. That is not the case anymore. If a man or woman wants to call themselves buckaroos or buckarettes---once again---I really don’t care. Just be prepared to ride and rope should the occasion arise.
Let’s have a little fun here for a minute: I’m a buckaroo…or… we buckarooed Soldier Cap yesterday…or…we’re going buckarooing tomorrow. Rodear (I think that’s the way it’s spelled, maybe rodeer, I don’t know.) We’ll rodear over there…or…we rodashed by the creek. Oh, the American cowboy, ain’t he but a dandy.
So, let’s get to the home of these fine fellows---their workplace, their playground, their future, present, or past place of employment---the ranch, itself.
Four big ranches at that time bordered on the Owyhee Desert. The perimeter fences had just been completed when I showed up on the scene. Those four were owned by Nevada Garvey, the Ellison Ranching Company, the Allied Land and Livestock, and the Petan Company. They consisted of deeded ground and BLM & USFS permits.
Nevada Garvey---the Circle A---was the big boy of them all. They said a little over two million acres. 12,000 to 15,000 head of cattle and a cavvy of 125 to 150 horses. The wagon was big and it was mounted on an old Army truck. Brian Morris was the cow (buckaroo) boss when I was there. The cavvies on all the ranches were trailed from camp to camp. The secret to moving horses---keep ‘em moving, don’t let ‘em graze---keep ‘em trotting right out.
The Ellison Ranching Company ran two wagons, the Spanish Ranch and Squaw Valley. The brands were the Pitchfork and the Door Key. It was about 1.5 million acres with 8,000 to 10,000 head of cattle and lots of horses. Bill Kane was the cow boss at the Spanish Ranch and I would eventually be the leadoff man there. One fall I made a list of horses we could saddle and ride from point A to point B. I came up with 131 names. (How cool it would be to see that list now.) That didn’t include the bronco herd which consisted of weaners to 6 year olds. “Colts” were started at 5 or 6 and were called broncos. There were 60 or 70 horses in that bunch. I was never around the Squaw Valley cavvy so I don’t know how many horses were there. The Squaw Valley wagon was pulled with a pickup and the Spanish Ranch wagon was mounted on a 6 x 6.
Ellison also ran sheep. I forget now, maybe 6 or 8 bands. Generally speaking a band was about 800 ewes with a 125% +/- lamb crop, amounting to 1,800 head per band.
The Petan Company (Pete and Ann Jackson, get it?)---the YP---was about like Ellison. 1.5 million acres with 8,000 head. Jerry Chapin was the cow boss. I was never around the YP so I don’t know anything about that wagon or the number of horses. If I had to do it all over again, I would swing over and spend a year with Jerry. A good cowboy and a good and decent man.
The Allied---IL Ranch---was the littlest of them. I’ve been told 750, 000 to a million acres and around 3,500 cows. A small cavvy, 50 or 60 horses. The brand is a Lazy SL. The SL Ranch is on the YP. Go figure. The Allied also ran sheep. About the same as Ellison, I guess. That wagon was pulled with a pickup although in the 80s or 90s they used horses. Seems like there were 6 horses and a video was made---“The Highly Exalted?”---I don’t remember.
Other ranches with wagons were the 25 Ranch. In the 60s they pulled two wagons out but only had one in the 70s. The TS had a wagon. There’s the Wine Cup, also, but I don’t know of it running a wagon at that time. Probably in the old days. Right now that is all I can think of. If I have left anyone out it is not out of disrespect, either I don’t know or I have forgotten.
At that time in Elko County there were other sheep outfits as well: Corta, Sorenson, Heguy, and Goicoechea. In northern Humboldt County Dufurrena was a big player. Hope I didn’t forget anyone.
They say you save money when out on the wagon. Well, ya. If you don’t have anyplace to spend it of course you’ll save it. When you go to town, though, you come back broke. There are two things you don’t need out there, cash and a watch. In the Circle A story I talked about how, when we came back from Winnemucca, we would leave our cash in an envelope with our name on it at the Paradise Valley bar/store. When Brian would go to the ranch he would tell the lady what we wanted and she would take the money out of the individual’s envelope.
We shod our own horses and we were supposed to get Sunday afternoons off when on the ranch. For the most part that did not work out well for us. We were probably horseback about 340 days of the year. About 20 miles a day for the yearly average would be my guess. I’m sure there will be lots said as to that number being too low. So be it.
I won’t talk about the bunkhouses and living conditions on the ranches as I talked about those in whatever story it was I talked about them. Suffice it to say, I preferred the wagon to the ranch. I was young and single in those days and a buckaroo’s life was a good life for me. Some like to say there is no such thing as a bad day when cowboying. You’ll never hear me say that.
I frost bit my face twice. I had a little test to see how cold my fingers were. If all 4 fingers could touch my thumb then I was in good shape. If I could only get one finger to touch it then I knew I wasn’t in a tropical heat wave. For the most part I never had trouble with my feet getting cold. I wore one pair of cotton/nylon socks and I put my cowboys boots in those old rubber overshoes. They tell me they don’t make them anymore. I carried two pair of gloves, leather insulated for warmth and rubber to rope with. The right hand rubber glove never lasted long with all the dallying and what have you.
Well folks, I’m going to shut this down. I hope this kind of gives you a little better understanding of what the brush cowboy did and the ranches he worked on. I turned 67 last month. I don’t consider myself old, a little beat up maybe, but not old. And in no way do I consider myself an old timer that is qualified to talk of the old days. Show a little interest and respect to the old cowboys and maybe they’ll talk to you.
And I’m not about to bad mouth these young hands. Let’s face it, they are riding and making better horses these days. With these big loop vaquero style ropings that are being put on those young hands are throwing loops I’d never seen before. Ride on young buckaroos and buckarettes, ride on and more power to you!
NOTE: Next Friday, September 1st, 2017, I'll post the first of four parts about the Spanish Ranch. Each of the following Fridays I'll post the remaining stories. Hope ya like 'em.
Here is a little cowboy story, among many, a man named Bill Mooney has been telling in his elder years..
I thought I would share it, since it gives a glimpse into an American scene people know little about, yet has an enormous influence in American culture, and is one of a few things left that are uniquely American.
The Big Outfits
They say it’s hard to get the old time cowboys to talk about it. I don’t blame them, and I can understand why they don’t want to talk about it. It took me 34 years to come out of my cave. Oh, if I were around cowboys or friends I would talk a little. When I left the brush I worked for and retired from Nevada DOT. All most of them knew was I used to be a cowboy on some big ranches north of Elko, NV.
So why didn’t I talk about it? Simple, most people can’t understand it. They just can’t grasp the size of those ranches, the number of horses and cattle, the living in tents and eating in the wagons. Desert heat or blizzard snow, it made no difference, we were horseback. Very, very seldom did we use trucks. We rode, usually at the trot. And when you left in the morning you had better be dressed and prepared for the day’s weather conditions as there was no turning back. We traveled light, no water or sack lunches. All I ever carried on me was toilet paper in my shirt pocket (that’s how you tell a real cowboy) and a pocket knife for marking calves.
And readers, when you finish this you will ask yourselves…is that right, was it really like that, I’m not sure if I believe all this. And that, folks, is why the old timers don’t care. That’s why they don’t want to be interviewed, especially by strangers.
My school was the Owyhee Desert of northern Nevada. Some call it the High Desert, others the Great Basin. I was on the buckaroo wagons---big circles, long ropes, and slick horns. I rode with some big names. Years later people would tell me, “You rode with legends, tell us about it.”
I didn’t stay on the big ranches for very long, ’71 to ’75. And that is the big reason I will not claim to be the spokesman for the buckaroo or an historian for any of that time era. To this day I still don’t talk too much about it. Nowadays I write about it, but only if I am in the mood. I am not a journalist, you can’t assign a project to me and expect me to go write about it. The only things I can write about are my personal experiences. I have to see or hear or feel it to write about it. In other words, I had to be there. In some of my cowboy stories I will mention what someone else had told me, but for the most part, all were my personal experiences.
When I was there about the only time you heard about a slick fork saddle, a mecate, or a spade bit was in a Capriola’s ad in the Western Horsemen. The buckaroos used slick fork saddles and the rest, but at that time Texas and Montana styles of saddles and bridles were the norm for the rest of America. How things have changed. The buckaroo style is, literally, in all the lower 48 states. I figured that since the buckaroo style was the way I learned then I would just stay in Nevada; it was as simple as that. If others didn’t like my style, then so be it. Am I proud now that the buckaroo style has become so popular? Personally, I really don’t care.
So what finally brought me out of my cave? I don’t know, a number of things I suppose. For years people would tell me I needed to write my stories down before I forgot them. Getting older and slower certainly had something to do with it. I have beaten pneumonia, tobacco, alcohol, and (knock on wood) cancer. But when push comes to shove I guess what really did it was one day I was telling my wife a cowboy story and she said, “It’s up to you, but it would be nice if you wrote this down for others to enjoy.” What could I say, just what could I do?
Many people are now familiar with the buckaroo style. I have read on FB about all the definitions of the buckaroo. The buckaroo does this, the buckaroo does that, or the buckaroo doesn’t do this and he doesn’t do that. May the Good Lord give me patience.
My personal opinion? A buckaroo is a cowboy---nothing more, nothing less. Actually, we used the word cowboy more than buckaroo. We used both words as nouns and verbs. If you want to get technical, I guess you could use them as adjectives, too. A buckaroo rides full time, that’s what he does. There aren’t a lot of full time riding jobs anymore, but that is certainly not the fault of the cowboy. For me, the riding was done on the ranch and out in the brush---the wagons. Years ago if you told me you were a buckaroo I would assume you were on one of the wagons. That is not the case anymore. If a man or woman wants to call themselves buckaroos or buckarettes---once again---I really don’t care. Just be prepared to ride and rope should the occasion arise.
Let’s have a little fun here for a minute: I’m a buckaroo…or… we buckarooed Soldier Cap yesterday…or…we’re going buckarooing tomorrow. Rodear (I think that’s the way it’s spelled, maybe rodeer, I don’t know.) We’ll rodear over there…or…we rodashed by the creek. Oh, the American cowboy, ain’t he but a dandy.
So, let’s get to the home of these fine fellows---their workplace, their playground, their future, present, or past place of employment---the ranch, itself.
Four big ranches at that time bordered on the Owyhee Desert. The perimeter fences had just been completed when I showed up on the scene. Those four were owned by Nevada Garvey, the Ellison Ranching Company, the Allied Land and Livestock, and the Petan Company. They consisted of deeded ground and BLM & USFS permits.
Nevada Garvey---the Circle A---was the big boy of them all. They said a little over two million acres. 12,000 to 15,000 head of cattle and a cavvy of 125 to 150 horses. The wagon was big and it was mounted on an old Army truck. Brian Morris was the cow (buckaroo) boss when I was there. The cavvies on all the ranches were trailed from camp to camp. The secret to moving horses---keep ‘em moving, don’t let ‘em graze---keep ‘em trotting right out.
The Ellison Ranching Company ran two wagons, the Spanish Ranch and Squaw Valley. The brands were the Pitchfork and the Door Key. It was about 1.5 million acres with 8,000 to 10,000 head of cattle and lots of horses. Bill Kane was the cow boss at the Spanish Ranch and I would eventually be the leadoff man there. One fall I made a list of horses we could saddle and ride from point A to point B. I came up with 131 names. (How cool it would be to see that list now.) That didn’t include the bronco herd which consisted of weaners to 6 year olds. “Colts” were started at 5 or 6 and were called broncos. There were 60 or 70 horses in that bunch. I was never around the Squaw Valley cavvy so I don’t know how many horses were there. The Squaw Valley wagon was pulled with a pickup and the Spanish Ranch wagon was mounted on a 6 x 6.
Ellison also ran sheep. I forget now, maybe 6 or 8 bands. Generally speaking a band was about 800 ewes with a 125% +/- lamb crop, amounting to 1,800 head per band.
The Petan Company (Pete and Ann Jackson, get it?)---the YP---was about like Ellison. 1.5 million acres with 8,000 head. Jerry Chapin was the cow boss. I was never around the YP so I don’t know anything about that wagon or the number of horses. If I had to do it all over again, I would swing over and spend a year with Jerry. A good cowboy and a good and decent man.
The Allied---IL Ranch---was the littlest of them. I’ve been told 750, 000 to a million acres and around 3,500 cows. A small cavvy, 50 or 60 horses. The brand is a Lazy SL. The SL Ranch is on the YP. Go figure. The Allied also ran sheep. About the same as Ellison, I guess. That wagon was pulled with a pickup although in the 80s or 90s they used horses. Seems like there were 6 horses and a video was made---“The Highly Exalted?”---I don’t remember.
Other ranches with wagons were the 25 Ranch. In the 60s they pulled two wagons out but only had one in the 70s. The TS had a wagon. There’s the Wine Cup, also, but I don’t know of it running a wagon at that time. Probably in the old days. Right now that is all I can think of. If I have left anyone out it is not out of disrespect, either I don’t know or I have forgotten.
At that time in Elko County there were other sheep outfits as well: Corta, Sorenson, Heguy, and Goicoechea. In northern Humboldt County Dufurrena was a big player. Hope I didn’t forget anyone.
They say you save money when out on the wagon. Well, ya. If you don’t have anyplace to spend it of course you’ll save it. When you go to town, though, you come back broke. There are two things you don’t need out there, cash and a watch. In the Circle A story I talked about how, when we came back from Winnemucca, we would leave our cash in an envelope with our name on it at the Paradise Valley bar/store. When Brian would go to the ranch he would tell the lady what we wanted and she would take the money out of the individual’s envelope.
We shod our own horses and we were supposed to get Sunday afternoons off when on the ranch. For the most part that did not work out well for us. We were probably horseback about 340 days of the year. About 20 miles a day for the yearly average would be my guess. I’m sure there will be lots said as to that number being too low. So be it.
I won’t talk about the bunkhouses and living conditions on the ranches as I talked about those in whatever story it was I talked about them. Suffice it to say, I preferred the wagon to the ranch. I was young and single in those days and a buckaroo’s life was a good life for me. Some like to say there is no such thing as a bad day when cowboying. You’ll never hear me say that.
I frost bit my face twice. I had a little test to see how cold my fingers were. If all 4 fingers could touch my thumb then I was in good shape. If I could only get one finger to touch it then I knew I wasn’t in a tropical heat wave. For the most part I never had trouble with my feet getting cold. I wore one pair of cotton/nylon socks and I put my cowboys boots in those old rubber overshoes. They tell me they don’t make them anymore. I carried two pair of gloves, leather insulated for warmth and rubber to rope with. The right hand rubber glove never lasted long with all the dallying and what have you.
Well folks, I’m going to shut this down. I hope this kind of gives you a little better understanding of what the brush cowboy did and the ranches he worked on. I turned 67 last month. I don’t consider myself old, a little beat up maybe, but not old. And in no way do I consider myself an old timer that is qualified to talk of the old days. Show a little interest and respect to the old cowboys and maybe they’ll talk to you.
And I’m not about to bad mouth these young hands. Let’s face it, they are riding and making better horses these days. With these big loop vaquero style ropings that are being put on those young hands are throwing loops I’d never seen before. Ride on young buckaroos and buckarettes, ride on and more power to you!
NOTE: Next Friday, September 1st, 2017, I'll post the first of four parts about the Spanish Ranch. Each of the following Fridays I'll post the remaining stories. Hope ya like 'em.