Tag Archives: Cattle

DIRECTIONS TO LOS NOVIOS RANCH

DIRECTIONS TO LOS NOVIOS RANCH
for Claire and George

A hundred miles south of San Antone
Los Novios means The Sweethearts

They had Brahmas in the pasture
they had a gator in the pond

They got big Blue Indigo snakes
there to eat them pesky rattlers

Though mesquite may be as close
as you get to a sweetheart tree

The roadrunner on the woodpile
is all puffed up and singing
Hey girls, look at me

CLEANING THE CALF SHED

CLEANING THE CALF SHED

Forty below outside
not much warmer
on the inside

A hundred little Herefords
dropping and stepping
where it freezes
where it drops

The calves are
four feet closer
to the roof
by April

After the thaw
sitting on the steel seat
of the little orange Allis
with the front end loader

Driving in hard
and pulling
out
fast

Manuria
in one nostril
spring
in the other

GRASS FED

GRASS FED

Shakespeare knows what we got do first
but let’s get rid of the feed lots next

Oats was made for breakfast
and corn was made for whiskey
cows was made for eatin grass
and calves for runnin frisky

Surely not for standin around
bursting their livers on a lot of hot feed
that they don’t need, and we don’t need

The beef might be
a little tougher to chew
but our hearts and our jaws
would soon be back to as good as new

And it might
come in real handy
not to be steroid de-sexed
when it comes to what we’ve gotta do next

ROUNDUP

ROUNDUP

It’s about the hardest dustiest best work a man can get

The pride of the heeling rope, thrown snake quick from a
good horse and the slow steady pull, dragging the white face
out where the boys with the hot irons
can record the feat

Three hundred cows sing of calves lost and found, and above
all through it all the full strong laugh of one of the boys,
where a slip was made or a kick well placed

At the end of the day, you wrap a rope sore hand around a
spring cold beer, and lean back against the old pole fence
deep in the pain, and the sweat, and the moment

Completely released from the wheel of desire

There’s no place you’d rather be
There’s no one you’d rather be with
and you’re too damn tired to move anyway

HEREFORDS

HEREFORDS

They’re not as storied as the Texas longhorn
nor as hairy as the Highland creed

And they’re not nearly so sophisticated
as the latest European breed

They sure don’t calf out as easy as Angus
but all around, they’re all you need

(AND THEY’RE PRETTY TOO)

I remember
few things as beautiful
as looking back from the point
and seeing a few hundred Herefords
pouring through a cleft in the hills
down to the home corrals
like a spring flood
red as earth and blood
Rolling with white faced foam