I have misplaced my camera. I don’t think it’s actually lost, not like my friend who left her’s on the wheel well of the horse trailer and drove off. I fear her’s is gone for good.
It’s a shame, because yesterday I wished I would have had it. Some young fellows come to help us pull bulls and one of them is awful pretty to watch. Maybe he is good looking too but I mean the way he handled his horse, his rope, and the bulls.
Two of the boys are sons of ranchers and team ropers who haven’t quite seen the light yet. But this other boy . . . There is something different about the working cowboy who has nothing but his horse, his saddle, maybe a good dog, his pickup truck. Their satisfaction doesn’t come in the owning but in the caring for cows. You see it in the very way the move and talk even before they get near a cow.
It was quite the scene watching these 3 boys. The young cowboy didn’t cave into all the fufurah and pressure to do it different. He just did it right. I admit, to my shame, that I am the let’s-hurry-and-get-it-done-before-it-kills-us type. I lack the quiet confidence I admired so much in this 19 year old boy. It just did my heart good to be able to watch him.