This is no beautiful set of rolling hills full of grass swaying in the wind. What you see here is cows being fed on tillable acres utilizing crop residue.
I’m no daily pen rider administering shots from the back of my horse. You’ll find me rolling in the ranger or the mom car checking cattle.
Last week we celebrated the day of the cowboy and with it the western way of life. This special segment of the world is still alive way out here where our animals eat before we do, where our word is our most valuable asset, and our legacy lives in our work.
A few minutes ago I got off the phone with a guy where I ordered a few brackets to hang a couple gates. He is shipping me the items and I’m sending a check. Before he gets his money he is sending me the brackets because he knows my last name. That’s how we do business here. That’s the cowboy way.
When I think of cowboys I think of handshake agreements before I think of wide brim hats, I think of selflessly watching over your neighbors before I think of a good set of chaps, and I think about the true character of doing what’s right before I think of a pair of spurs.
The cowboy, the western way of life, that’s a code of work ethic, morals, and standards more than it’s ever been a way to dress.
Also, you’ll catch me doing cowboy shit all day long as a girl. For me, cowboying isn’t exclusive to the guys club.
Long live the cowboy. Long love this way of life.
Today we put in the only local tank we could find at our river pasture so we can haul water to our cattle there after weaning.