The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 102, July 1998 - April, 1999 Page: 68
559 p. : ill. (some col.), maps, ports. ; 23 cm.View a full description of this periodical.
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68 Southwestern Historical Quarterly July
pairs for the work of the day, the work during the summer being varied.
Mostly, we will ride through pastures looking at the goats and cattle for
any evidence of injury, malnourishment, or illness, and particularly for
screwworm infestation, and visit the hospital traps to treat the infected
or injured cows and calves. The calves are prone to get worms in wire
cuts, in their navels after birth, and when dehorned, castrated, or brand-
ed. The ranchers in this area have a never-ending job of doctoring for
screwworms. Whenever cattle with worms are found, they are put in the
hospital traps so they can be more readily caught and treated.
Shorty and I acknowledge the instructions with, "Okay, Boss, see you
later," and we turn and head out to the east. It must be about 4:30 A.M.
by now, for it is getting lighter every moment, and the first rays of sun
can be seen as they color a few lonely clouds in the east to a dull red. I
love this part of the day better than any other because it is so beautiful
and so peaceful. The ground is rocky, red-colored, and covered every-
where with clumps of grass, cactus, brush, and mesquite trees. Whenever
we top out of a ravine and ride along a ridge, I can see miles across a
rolling jungle of trees and brush, with a windmill here and there and a
few flat-top mountains or mesas. There is a slight mist or haze that en-
chants as it seems to try to veil things. And the air is so cool and fresh; it
doesn't smell sweet like a lady's perfume-it hardly has a smell--just
fresh and pure. There are no sounds at all except for the rhythmic
clump of horses' hooves on the sandy road and the gentle tinkle of my
spurs as they touch the horse's side at each step. Twice a doe that is bed-
ded down in a clump of brush breaks cover and clatters away across the
rock pasture, sounding like an old typewriter.
Just after sunrise, Shorty and I reach the two corrals of the "Hospital"
pasture, or "Main Trap," which are at the corner of the pasture and
grouped about a windmill and a water tank. While our horses are getting
water at the tank, I open the gates between the two corrals and the Hos-
pital pasture, and check to see that all the other gates are closed.
In a few places, the corral rails are down and must be replaced so
none of the cows try to jump out. Everything fixed to our satisfaction, we
ride off to the north end of the pasture to start getting the cattle togeth-
er. After following the fence for about twenty minutes, I reach the cor-
ner of the pasture where I turn back toward the corrals and begin my
sweep. Soon I begin to find a few groups of cows and calves, and I shove
each on ahead of me in the direction of the corrals. I keep the ever-in-
creasing number moving with a 'Yeee," a flick of the end of my rope, or
the slap of reins on my leggings, while weaving from one side to the oth-
er in back of the herd, picking up other cows and heading back the
strays. Twice I hear the bawl of the cow behind me, calling to her calf or
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Texas State Historical Association. The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 102, July 1998 - April, 1999, periodical, 1999; Austin, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth101219/m1/93/: accessed May 4, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Historical Association.