2015 October Issue- Week 1

September 30, 2015

Longhorns1MerleGrabhorne

Longhorns Eating Cactus-Living on Poor Forage

From an old Postcard (Authors Collection)

HOW THE LONGHORNS WERE SAVED

by Merle Grabhorn

It may surprise you that, by the beginning of the 20th century, the icon of the American West, the Longhorns, were virtually extinct.  Thirty years previously, they had been the dominant breed of cattle in the US; however,  by 1900 Longhorns were considered trash or” scrub cattle.“ What happened?    Longhorns were hardy, had evolved disease resistance, ease of calving, strong mothering instincts, and other traits such as hard hooves and dangerous horns to protect themselves.  What’s more, they could walk for miles for water, utilize poor forage, and raise strong healthy calves year after year.   They were the perfect breed for the American West.  It was ranching economics, not genetics, that led to the decline and near extinction of the Longhorn.

Three Strikes and You’re Out

There were three causes that led to the decline and near extinction of Longhorns.    The first strike against Longhorns was that new breeds of cattle began showing up in the West.  Towards the end of the 19th century, purebred cattle breeds from Europe and Asia became available such as Hereford, Shorthorn, and Angus.

Since Angus beef is often marketed in grocery stores and even fast food chains, a comparison between Angus and Longhorn tells the story.    An Angus cow can reach an average weight of 1,200 to 1,800 pounds, while a Longhorn cow will average 1000 pounds.   Thusly, an Angus can easily average about 25 percent more weight than a Longhorn.   That’s a 25 percent increase in profit per head.    Further, Angus have what cattlemen call “Superior Feed Conversion” which means that an Angus will return larger amounts of beef for the same amount of feed.    The Angus reaches maturity relatively early in comparison to the Longhorn.   Calves are born sooner and they mature faster.  That said, the return on Angus is both greater and quicker.

Strike Two-The Need for Fat

The Longhorn is a very lean animal.  Compared to an Angus it has about 80percent less fat per pound.    Historically, candles, soaps, lubricants and cooking all required tallow.  The demand for the tallow and hides was a driving force for the cattle business.    Hides could be obtained from Longhorns but not much fat.    Cattle processing companies were willing to pay more for cattle with fat that could be rendered for tallow.   Also, Longhorns had a reputation for producing tougher, stringier, and less appetizing meat.

To the steak connoisseur, the rib-eye is a choice cut, taste of which comes from the marbling of fat around the steak.   Sure, there is fat around a Longhorn ribeye, just not very much.  Longhorn beef cooks quickly due to its low fat content.    The less fat, the quicker the cooking time.  It’s very easy to overcook meat that is lean and when you overcook it, it toughens up.   The “old-time” cowboys knew the trick was to eat their Longhorn steaks rare.  But as America became more urban, the knowledge of how to cook very lean meat all but vanished and the ads from meat packing companies advertising the “better” beef didn’t help.  We know today not only that Longhorn beef is leaner than that of other breeds, it is also lower in saturated fats.  Longhorn beef even has less cholesterol and calories than chicken, a very healthy meat.

Strike Three-Cattle Tick Fever

It is ironic that one of the strengths of the Longhorn was also a cause of its near extinction.  Fever in cattle is carried by ticks and, unlike other breeds, the Longhorns had developed immunity to this disease.  In the good old days, when Longhorns were moved along cattle trails during the great drives, the ticks dropped off and found local cattle to feed on.  In this way, the ticks transmitted the deadly disease that would decimate entire herds.   It took a little time but ranchers soon realized that tick or Texas fever as they called it, was somehow related to the Longhorns.  They didn’t know the how of it, but they knew the results:   the loss of their herds of valuable Angus, Herefords, and Shorthorns.

Longhorns were disease carriers that no one wanted.  Soon, cattle drives were met with armed resistance.  This led to an event recorded in Western history as the “Winchester Quarantine”.   Texas Panhandle cattlemen, Charles Goodnight of the JA Ranch and Orville Nelson of the Shoe Bar Ranch, posted cowhands armed with Winchester rifles at their southern boundaries to keep out tick-infested South Texas Longhorns.  The cowhands were armed with Winchesters.   Goodnight warned the drivers, “You will not treat this as idle talk.   I simply say you will not pass through here in good health.”    Years later, movie and TV Westerns would draw on this event for some of their stories.

It’s Almost Too Late

As ranchers began the transition to other, more profitable cattle breeds, they sent most of their Longhorns off to slaughter.    However, some did retain a few Longhorns to try to crossbreed with the more valuable cattle in hopes that they could combine the desirable attributes of both.  This hybridization further led to the decline of pure Longhorn stocks.   Eventually the remaining pure Longhorns were sent to slaughter or died.   Mostly, they were just bred out of existence.

However, there were a few cattlemen who saw that the Longhorns were disappearing and started to bring some of the best they could find to their ranches.   They were sometimes hidden on remote parts of the ranch to prevent scorn from neighbors who scoffed at the “relics.”        A total of six ranchers, Butler, Marks, Peeler, Phillips, Yates and Wright saved what was thought to be the last pure Longhorns.   They kept their other cattle separate so there were no mixing of the herds.   These ranchers were diligent and strict purists in breeding, record keeping and maintaining their Longhorns.    This created six isolated gene pools.   All Longhorns alive today come from these six gene pools plus one more, the WR herd.

The Government Steps In with the WR Herd

In 1927, conservationists and historians asked Congress for money to establish a federal herd of purebred Texas Longhorn cattle with the object of saving Western Heritage.  The cattle were supposed to be established in the Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge located in Southeast Oklahoma as a “for show herd” to allow tourists to see and photograph.  Three thousand dollars were appropriated for the task.  It was also supposed to have been be easy to assemble the herd, as at one time there had been somewhere between four and six million Longhorns in Texas alone.   However, it did not turn out to be so easy.

For several years, two U.S. Forest Service rangers searched South Texas and Northern Mexico for Longhorns.  They inspected over thirty thousand head of cattle and found only twenty cows, three bulls, and four calves (two bulls and two heifers).   Those found did not include any from the six other herds then known to exist.      This became the basis for what would eventually be known as the WR (Wildlife Refuge) herd and would become the seventh gene pool.    The search continued and a few years later, two more Longhorns were bought from Zunigas Y. Cia of Monterey Mexico for sixteen dollars each.     Shipping was more than seven times the value of the animals and one of them later had to be discarded as there were indications of a Jersey cattle bloodline.   Strict conservation of the breed was and as is the mandate of the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge and this herd is highly regarded due to its pure and strict Longhorn lineage and distinctive conformation.

Longhorns2MerleGrabhorne

 Meat Packers wanted “good” beef and not Longhorn beef

(Saturday Evening Post Ad  1927 Authors Collection)

The Turnaround

About 1943 the-refuge herd had increased and the Forest Service began to hold annual sales of surplus animals. The six other herds sold a few of their Longhorns beginning about this time as well.  At first, Cowmen purchased them as curiosities, but interest began to grow.   New herds began to appear and gained recognition.  Two these were the SPEAR-E  herd which Elvin Blevins of Wynnewood, Oklahoma started in 1952 (primarily from WR and Yates stock), and the Ox-Yoke T herd bred by Ken Humphrey of Okreek, South Dakota in 1950 (50 percent Niobrara  Refuge, 25 percent WR and 25 percent Yates).

In 1964, a small group of cattlemen banded together to preserve the unique heritage of these and started the Texas Longhorn Breeders Association.  The mission was to maintain a pure breed registry and to increase the population.     Although interest was renewing, there was still danger to the Longhorns.   When Milby Butler, one of the breeders, died in 1971, the Longhorns on his ranch were rounded up and sold.  Some 80 percent of his cattle were never accounted for said to be sold for slaughter.  The remaining 20 percent were scattered among different breeders who had been fortunate to hear that they were for sale.   This led to the almost total destruction of one of the last Longhorn gene pools.    Today, it is estimated that only 5 percent of existing Longhorn cattle have the Butler Bloodline.

As time passed, interest continued to grow even more and today, every Longhorn carries registration papers similar to those of American Kennel Club show dogs.  Most present day Texas Longhorn cattle are descended from those seven families, each of which had its own distinctive attributes. To a Longhorn cowman today, it is vitally important to have an understanding of an animal’s pedigree and the degree to which it has been genetically influenced by one or more of those families.  DNA testing is often performed to insure that a bull or cow falls in the acceptable range to be a true Longhorn.

Today, Longhorns are far from the “worthless relics” they once were.  Their numbers have grown since the 1920’s to well over three hundred thousand today.  Although  cattle for the WR refuge were purchased for $16 dollars apiece (about two-hundred twelve dollars in 2015) today, a Longhorn with outstanding genetics can fetch upwards of forty thousand at auction with a record price for a cow of one-hundred seventy thousand dollars.

Longhorns are once again being raised for their “healthier” meat which is often seen in organic grocery stores.  Ranchers prize these cattle on their ability to live on marginal pasture land.  So, if you happen to see a true Longhorn, you are seeing a real piece of American history that was almost lost.   From trash to distinction, not bad for worthless old relics.

Author’s Biography:

Merle Grabhorn is a rancher living in the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. And like many ranchers, has an interest in cattle, horses, and Western History. Like all ranchers, he diversifies so Row Crops such as Wheat or Soybeans are part of the Ranch Economics. Of course he feels, part of Ranching is attending State Fairs and other venues to show cattle or horses, enhancing the value of the herd.

Shown below, Merle with his favorite Paint Horse: “Radified” or “Rad” for short. Rad is a Registered Paint, Registered Pinto, and is an APHA Breeders Trust Horse.  In competition and shows, Rad has won over 300 awards, including a number of Grand and Reserve Championships. He has been in Multiple National and World Championship competitions where he has won recognition and awards.

MerleGrabhorn2

The article by Merle, about the History of Longhorn cattle, is mostly from research– coming from an interest in starting a herd of Longhorns. The herd hasn’t been established….yet. Only the future knows.

October 2014 Issue- Week 1

October 4, 2014

“Better late than never!” our managing editor Ms. Stelling says. It’s been busy around the pub office since we began 1 year to the date publishing authors poetry and flash fiction books. And we look forward to more manuscript submission for next fall! We would love to see some western genre manuscripts come out way, since there are so many of you submitting to this ezine.

See our submission guidelines at www.reddashboard.com for more information, dates are Oct 1st – Feb 28th.

Enjoy this months issues!

 

EPSON MFP image

(Click to enlarge)
Watercolor ‘Steeds’ by Anj Marth

Ocean steeds was inspired by a story my great-grandmother told me when I first started riding horseback. Selkies are beautiful horses that live in the sea, and come to shore to tempt people to try to catch them. If you bridle one, or get on its back (it will let you) it will drag you into the deeps with it, and there’s no escape.

Anj Marth was born in the early 70s, and grew up on the east coast of the US, near Philadelphia. She has since moved and traveled all over the country, by road. She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest and
considers it home. She works in a variety of mediums and has been a professional,licensed tattoo artist since the late 90s.

Her condensed portfolio can be seen here- Anj Marth Portfolio

 

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KODACHROME BOOTS

This here’s a tale bout widow Beall and me,
a very close call as far as I can see.
Nearly hung myself from a stout oak tree,
when she proclaimed she’s “a gonna marry thee”!

Now, widow Beall was a comely lass,
much appeal and a cute little…….well.
Dumb as a sheep and not much class,
spit fire temper and a whole lot of sass.

Not fix’n to marry, ner give’n a dang hoot,
rather ride me a bronc, raise hell and shoot.
Single I’ll stay, til I be a grizzled old coot,
and all this started o’er a Kodachrome boot.

A life riding single with a little spare loot,
I’d spent honest big money on Kodachrome boots.
With huge eagle wings, patterns fanciful stitched,
never reckoned on them boots a get’n me hitched.

Them knee high boots just glowed by day,
bright yellar and red with horned lizard inlay.
Strong ride’n heels built up real high,
with side seam piping, blue as the sky.

Chartreuse pull straps above scalloped top,
a rainbow of colors that seemed never to stop.
Big ole eagles, blueish green and dark taupe,
tawdry beauty from some boot makers shop.

Kodachrome boots made from the best of cowhide,
brash as a peacock cowboy on an afternoon ride.
Clean shirt, fresh hat, pants stuffed inside,
One of a kind boots, whispered ego and pride.

When corralled by the widow, I couldn’t break free,
She’d always look down and then I could see,
her eyes come alive, twinkling romance and glee,
It was them boots she truly loved and not really me!

I hatched an idea to get me outta her plan,
and git back on the trail as fast as I can.
Just need to convince my first cousin Stan,
widow Beall needs some lov’n and he is her man.

Got Stan a new Stetson, wild rag and new suit,
a bath, and some tonic, why he looked darn right cute.
And to sweet’n the deal, first time in the chute,
I gave him my pair of those kodachrome boots.

Marc Bradshaw– Though raised in the hills and hollows of central Kentucky, the southwest U.S. beckoned immediately after high school graduation. Over the next 50 years California’s San Joaquin valley and parts south of Bakersfield, in Santa Fe New Mexico, and currently Mesquite Nevada were home to life and
work.

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COME HAVEN OR LOW WATER

by Rodney Nelson

when we hear the recorded whoop of
a cowboy cello we’re not truant
only away from our home butte
on the Niobrara

we are the men of earth we have been
and when we reinvent the odor
of horse and hay we ride and forget
what larrupt us to town

there won’t ever be a flareout of
the world or a man-roping event
in the oil range we hold the dream to
on the Niobrara

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COWBOY OF THE SEA

His name is Keealani,
a cowboy of the sea.
Needs the wind upon his back,
that bucking ride to set him free.

He wrestles surf and ocean
gripping tight and holding strong,
waiting for horns blowing
counting seconds short and long.

Got his lasso round his ankle
his bolo tie, a string of shells,
biggest difference in this cowboy
is his fishy stinky smell.

No manure or dirt upon him,
just the residue of sand,
cause this cowboy’s ride is over
when he steps upon the land.

Heather M. Browne is a faith-based psychotherapist and recently emerged poet, published in the Orange Room, Boston Literary Review, Page & Spine, Eunoia Review, Poetry Quarterly, The Poetry Bus, Red Fez, The Muse, An International Journal of Poetry, Deep Water Literary Journal, Electric Windmill, Maelstrom, mad swirl, and Dual Coast.  Her first chapbook, We Look for Magic and Feed the Hungry has been published by MCI. She just won the Nantucket Poetry Competition, a semi-finalist in Casey Shay chapbook competition, and has her first collection coming out this winter with Red Dashboard Publishing.  Recently widowed from her love of 21 years, she lives with her 2 amazing teens, and can be found frolicking in the waves.  Follow her: www.thehealedheart.net

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What’s New In June

July 2, 2014

Well, we got our first anthology out of the gate, Unbridled. It seems to have been a success, as we get orders on a weekly basis. And we want to thank all the contributors for their wonderful submissions!

Clark Crouch
C.B. Anderson
Tony Magistrale
Julia Klatt Singer
Debra Meyer
Al Ortolani
Alison L. Thalhammer
Nina Romano
Telly McGaha
Tyson West
Rodney Nelson
Larry Spotted Crow Mann
Ray Sharp
Nicole Yurcaba
Tom Sheehan
Lily Goderstad
Kevin Heaton
Greg T. Miraglia
Chrystal Berche
Linda M. Hasselstrom
Dawn Schout
Luke MacLean
Vera Constantineau
Chris Ridenour
John J. Brugaletta
Leroy Trussell
Andrew Jarvis
Bandon Black
Robert Krenz
Christopher Ackerman
Andy Kerr-Wilson
Geoff (Poppa Mac) Mackay
John Strickland
Courtney Leigh Jameson
Della West
Smokey Culver
Merle Grabhorn
Elaine Shea
Jack Phillip Lowe
Laura Jean Schneider
Stanley M. Noah
Henry Marchand
Robert Penven
Julia R. Barrett
Paul Piatkowski
Gary Ives
Nathaniel Towers
M.V. Montgomery
JD DeHart
Dawn Schout

Without you, we would just be an empty field of dreams…

What’s next?

There will be a 2015 issue, submissions are open Oct 2014-Feb. 28th, 2015.

And…

We are accepting submission for our fall issue of CPP, deadline is October 1st!
email: editor@reddashboard.com

December Issue- Week 3

December 16, 2013

There will be no Week 4 this go round. It’s the holidays and frankly we need a few weeks to recover from all the reading we are doing for the launching of our Red Dashboard LLC Publishing company and its new books. If you are interested in sending us your manuscript to consider for a Summer/Fall 2014 publication, email us at editor@reddashboard.com with a query letter and 5 pieces of poetry, or 10 pages of your short story/desert dime novel material/work.

MarkTwainSelection3

Yuma Arizona foot hills, taken by our Managing Editor EAS while on a quest for water…

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Boots Crunching on Gravel

“You-all been washing gold along the creek,” I said, “but you never stopped to think where those grains of gold started from. Well, I found and staked the mother lode, staked her from Hell to breakfast, and one day’s take will be more than you’ve taken out since you started work. I figure now I’ll dig me out a goodly amount of money, then I’ll sell my claims and find me some friends that aren’t looking at me just to see what I got.” ~From “The Courting of Griselda” – Louis L’Amour

We started at daybreak with two rifles and plenty of ammunition. We rode out of there with the stars still in the sky. We rode across country with no dust in the sky. All of a sudden two men rode up. Nobody had anything to say but by the looks of it – the pans, the picks, the sacks, they were hunting gold. I looked over at my buddy his name of Jeb and I gave a slight nod. He stared straight ahead eying the men his fingers crawling slowly to his holster. If we had time for words, I’d know what he’d say: “Colt, there’s no such thing as a gunman’s crouch. Might make you less of a target but you need to hold a gun so’s it’s comfortable to you.” The men held their heads high and nodded towards the creek. I softened the grip on my rifle. The odor of stale whiskey lingered in the air. Finally the older of the two lifts his hat up off his head and nods. The younger follows suit. Then Jeb. Then me. And we pass along the trail, everything unguarded.

LB Sedlacek’s poems have been published in publications such as “The Broad River Review,” “Third Wednesday,” “Heritage Writer,” “Circle Magazine,” “Scribe and Quill,” “The Hurricane Review,” and others.

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clowning 2

Behind The Grease Paint

Another performance over and his work is done
Most of the grease paint was gone from his face
His life as a rodeo clown has just begun
It’s this new role he must now embrace
Many years ago he was in the cowboy protection
Making himself a target for fallen bull-riders
Each outin addin bumps,and bruises, to his collection
He’d shuck, and jive as if his feet were on gliders
His movements have been slowed by injury and age
He now walks at a much slower pace
It’s different as a clown takin centre stage
His new life is all about props, pranks, and fillin in space
No more will he be dodgin bulls, and makin saves
Instead he tells stories trades jabs with the announcer
He can no longer do what he craves
Dancing around the arena as if attached to a bouncer
The life of a rodeo clown in the sport that he loves
Is about making people happy with antics and a story.
He plays with audience and a barrel he shoves
It’s not the same as bullfighting you don’t get the glory
Without the grease paint he’s just like me or you
Not the one making them laugh
He’s turned the page on the life he once knew
and found new meaning in his rodeo path.
Behind the grease paint he lives as a clown
And the chance to make people laugh he’ll never turn down.

Geoff “Poppa Mac” Mackay is a storyteller, entertainer, and rodeo clown (as seen in photo above). His poetry and music has been seen and heard- June 2013 Performed Pincher Creek Gathering; June 2013 Performed Manitoba Stampede July 2013; Performed at a CD Release party Palomino Club August 2013; Chosen to Clown Heartland Rodeo Finals September 2013; Performed Souris River Bend Trail ride September 2013; Performed Maple Creek Gathering September 2013; MC’d and Performed Quinton Blair CD Release Party October 2013, and Competing Columbia River gathering, Cowboy Idol- April 2014.

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Ambling With My Companion

Trails intersect,
the criss-crossroads
made us bury
pictures of youth—

hooves of plain-spoke
language, stomped our
dead fallen tracks.

We’re ripping a
part of the land—
are no longer
frequently lost,

free-questrian,
elegant—we
always arrive
somewhere near our

forsaken home.
My ground and yours,
what we lived for—
poems in crowns,

adorned four-fold,
each season’s form
maintained between
forlorn borders.

Summer Is A Hot Kiss Of Death

I felt the crisp wind
take hold of my lips
transforming them into
the desert surface.

It also turned my face
a chronic cold of blue,
like poisoned horse lay
flat under oil-waved sky.

I only cried once.
I stared the two times
you held my grazing body
under white-washed sun.

Courtney Leigh Jameson recently graduated from Saint Mary’s College of California with an MFA in Poetry. Her work has appeared in *Similar:Peaks*<http://similarpeakspoetry.com/2013/06/05/two-poems-by-courtney-jameson/>and is forthcoming in *Clockwise Cat, FLARE, *and *Danse Macabre*. She currently resides in Arizona and is the The Bowhunter of *White Stag Journal*.

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December 2013- Week 2

December 10, 2013

MikeHudson

Michael Hudson is a poet/preacher in Arizona, and is our resident ranch hand and roper sends us these great photos from time to time! He is the rider, but not sure who is down on the ground, but they do this from sun-up to sun-down, every day.

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MY CHARISMATIC COWBOY

Observe brash
imminent intimidation
every part of.
Like pauses in the flow,
we listen.
Inclusionists

crouched over this.
Our knowledge acts withered
slow to resist.
Faint lips
subjective in the telling.
Now willing to present

the kiss.

Thank you for traveling through time.

Passive histrionics
levitating beneath a rock.
Servitude’s meandering cracks,
where did I put that’s.
Forever and ever or
a horizon of stoics.
Impractically industrious.
I witnessed a fellow spirit
materialize without a comma

within the here is.

Colin James has a chapbook of poems available from Atlantean Publishing, and has been published via other journals and on-line lit magazines.

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Stage Coaches

Cowboy songs command the throng.
One falls off his hobbyhorse.
Some miss marks.

The sheriff stage-whispers cues
from a casting couch,
Hands up. Drop your drawers.

Unstellar heroine in the dark
— cut to black,
nothing but crickets.

Gerard Sarnat is the author of two critically acclaimed poetry collections, 2010’s “HOMELESS CHRONICLES from Abraham to Burning Man” and 2012’s “Disputes.” His pieces have appeared or are forthcoming in over seventy journals and anthologies. Harvard and Stanford educated, Gerry’s been a physician who’s set up and staffed clinics for the disenfranchised, a CEO of health care organizations, and a Stanford professor. For “The Huffington Post” review of his work and more; visit GerardSarnat.com.

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Horse, pony, colt, filly waiting for a cowboy

Horse on the trail
waiting for a cow
waiting for a cowboy
traveling a trail
pony at a fair
waiting on a kid
waiting for a rider
traveling a circuit
colt born wild
colt waiting to run wild
colt waiting for a mustang wild run
colt traveling a wildness trail
filly born wild
filly in the wildness running wild
filly waiting for a drink of water
filly running in a wildness trail
cowboy tell me this
cowboy tell me that
cowboy tell me a horse tale
cowboy waiting on a cow trail
Working with a cow
working for along time on the cow trail
fencing the wild trail
gone wild are the horses
gone are the ponies
gone are the colts
gone wild are the fillies
how sad are the cowboys with fences

Clinton Seagle as a kid grew up on Cracker Box Route Fallon, Montana area. Worked a bit in Ekalaka Montana where one can see the end of the world is just a step away. Returned Peace Corps Volunteer from Bolivia an other end of the world stepping stone. This is his first attempt at publishing his work.

October Issue- Week 1

October 1, 2013

Tombstone

Tombstone- ‘Town Too Tough To Die’

Managing Editor, Elizabeth Akin Stelling visited Tombstone in 2010, and survived the heat, or was it the OK Corral reenactment…

Tombstone was founded in 1877 by a prospector named Ed Schieffelin.   Ed was staying at what was then called Camp Huachuca (wa-chu-ka) as part of a scouting expedition against the Chiricahua (chir-i-cow-uh) Apaches.   During his time there he would venture out into the wilderness “looking for rocks”, all the while ignoring the warnings he received from the soldiers at the camp.   They would tell him, “Ed, the only stone you will find out there will be your tombstone”.   Well, Ed did find his stone.   And it was Silver.   So, remembering the words of warning from the soldiers, he named his first mine The Tombstone.

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WHITMAN REVISITED

When I heard the learned astronomer
From proofs and charts and periodic tables
H&R diagrams, overheads, and visuals,
With power points to show the history of stars
From flowers to quarks to quasars,
To the theory of everything
As all greatest mysteries unfolded
From hydrogen to hogs, to Hectors,
And among all the applause, I felt sick
And arose and went outside for some fresh air
Where looking up I beheld the silence of the stars
Until I realized I was in the planetarium.

Clinton Van Inman Born in England, BA 1975 San Diego State University, high school teacher in Tampa, lives in Sun City Center, Fl with his wife Elba. One of the last Beats still standing and still banging the drum (slower now) for the Cause.

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I Wasn’t Born a Cowboy

I wasn’t born a cowboy, but I’ve done my level best
to earn the right to be called one today
I’ve shoveled up the stalls, unloaded tons of feed and hay
I’ve even milked some cows along the way

My childhood home was not a ranch, though on the country side
we had a few ol’ chickens and of course
I rode my bike for several miles each day come rain or shine
so I could care for my beloved horse

I didn’t have a thousand acres, or a herd of cows
but I could rope and tie a “Bramer” calf
And I could nail the shoes on dang near any horse around
been throwed and every time I climbed right back

No, cowboys may not all be born, cause some of us are made
like poor folks who grow up and make their way
To fame and fortune, that’s how cowboys do it, difference is
we don’t get rich like them, just draw our pay

I’m proud to call myself a cowboy and I know for sure
that others who have earned the right will say
That nothin’ good comes easy, but you hang on for the ride
get bucked off, get back on, the cowboy way…

Smokey Culver was born and raised in southeast Texas, and has lived there all his life. He writes music and poetry about whatever comes to mind, mostly farmers and ranchers and down home folks. The Lord has blessed him with an ability to put thoughts into words that generally make sense, and even stir up emotions sometimes. I have recently joined the board of directors of Musicians, Artists , Authors, Poets, and Storytellers (MAAPS) of Texas as the person to oversee the cowboy poetry issues. My poetry link- Smokey Culver via FB

February 2013- Week 4

February 25, 2013

SONY DSC

The Shooting Star

Midnight splendor

Tell me cowboy,

what was your wish?

Stars shoot first

and ask questions later.

Virginie Colline is a French translator living in Paris. You can read her latest poems in

*Seltzer*

*BRICKrhetoric*,

*Winamop and *Yes, Poetry*

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*/Paniolo/*

by Clark Crouch

He’s a paniolo

on a volcanic range

minding herds of cattle,

it’s really not so strange.

He’s a paniolo

on these, the lava lands.

He’s a paniolo

far from the beach’s sands.

His ranch is quite ancient

from ‘fore the Texasrange;

from eighteen nine ’til now

there’s been so little change.

His ranch is very large…

puts other spreads to shame;

multi-thousand acres

brings paniolo fame.

His ranch is furtherest west,

and off the continent,

three-thousand miles away

on an isle of content.

There on the mount’nous slopes,

his herds of cattle roam.

He’s a paniolo;

Hawaiiis his home.

Aloha paniolo

on the lava lands.

Aloha, paniolo

 

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