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Texas Quarter Horses…

Welcome to my humble home. I am so pleased you decided to come and visit.

Now, do you like that or would you rather hear, “Howdy, you all! Good to see ya again!”?

I guess I better stick to bein’ me, cause I do that pretty good. Last week, I went out to the George Ranch to set some things up and they were short two hands. You guessed it; I wound up ridin’ a horse all day, muggin’ cattle, dippin’ cattle and ropin’. I enjoyed the time, but found out how out of shape I really am!

Don’t forget the George Ranch Working Ranch Competition and Chuckwagon Cook-off May 3, 4. There will be great food, great rodeo, stick horse races for the kids, live cowboy poetry from your wrangler and friends and a whole lot of stuff for the whole family on both days. Admission is low and it’s close, just go south on 59; take the first exit after the Brazos River bridge and go left about eight miles. You’ll have a ball!

We also have the Texas Foundation Quarter Horse Show at the Crosby Fairgrounds Arena on April 12 at 8:00 am. It’s free and is back for the second year because they loved our Crosby hospitality, so mark your calendars. I’ll tell you more next week. By the way, your wrangler will be announcing the show and I’ll have books, CD’s and stuff available. I’d love to see all of you there!

I am goin’ to introduce you to one of my favorite cowboy poets, Badger Clark. He’s gone, but his work is still some of the best. Here’s why:

There is some that like the city-Grass that’s curried smooth and green,
Theatres and stranglin’ collars, Wagons run by gasoline-
But for me it’s hawse and saddle, Every day without a change,
And a desert sun a blazin’, On a hundred miles of range.
Just a ridin’, a-ridin’-
Desert ripplin’ in the sun,
Mountains blue along the skyline-
I don’t envy anyone-When I’m ridin’
When my feet is in the stirrups, And my hawse is on the bust,
With his hoofs a-flashin’ lightin’, From a cloud of golden dust,
And the bawlin’ of the cattle, Is a-comin’ down the wind,
Then a finer life than ridin’, Would be mighty hard to find.

Just a ridin’, a-ridin’-
Splittin’ long cracks through the air,
Stirrin’ up a baby cyclone Rippin’ up the prickly pear, As I’m ridin’
I, don’t need no art exhibits, When the sunset does her best,
Paintin’ everlastin’ glory, On the mountains to the west,
And your opery looks foolish, When the night-bird starts his tune,
And the desert’s silver mounted, By the touches of the moon.

Just a ridin’, a-ridin’-
Who kin envy kings and czars,
When the coyotes down the valley
Are a-singin’ to the stars, If he’s ridin’?
When my earthly trails is ended, And my final bacon curled,
And the last great roundup’s finished, At the Home Ranch of the world,
I don’t want no harps nor haloes, Robes or other dressed up things-
Let me ride the starry ranges, On a pinto hawse with wings!

Just a ridin’, a-ridin’
Nothin’ I’d like half so well
As a-roundin’ up the sinners
That have wandered out of Hell, And a-ridin’.

I guess that says it all! Gotta go feed again, so close the gate, and ‘till we meet again,

Happy Trails,