 |
 |
 |
 |
| I am
a cowboy. My daddy was a cowboy; both my granddads and at least two
of my great-granddads were cowboys. Horses and horsemanship go back
in my family for at least four generations. Some people remember when
they started riding. I don't ever remember not riding. It just seemed
a natural part of my life. I grew up on some big outfits, such as
the 6666 and Triangle, and it was not unusual to see 150 - 200 horses
in the remuda. I was constantly around men who made their living ahorseback,
and I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to be ahorseback. My daddy, Royce McLaury, had some fine old cutting horses, and occasionally he would put me on one of them and let me "help" him work a roundup. He would show me which cows he wanted out, and I would cut them out. Or, to tell the truth, those old horses did the cutting. They knew and understood their job. I was more of a passenger. I noticed at an early age that the men who rode the best horses got to work those roundups, drag calves at the brandings, lead the drives, etc. Well, that's what I wanted to do, so I put a lot of extra time and effort into learning how to make a good horse. The extra effort paid off in that some old timers took an interest in helping this ole' kid. They taught me things they'd learned, and without exception, told me to always watch the good hands and learn from them. I remember my daddy saying one time, "Son, it's about time you learn where them good horses come from," so I started my first colt at age 11. Looking back, I know that he was scared to death. But my mission at the time was to conquer and ride that booger. And I did. Until he bucked me off, kicked me in the belly and broke a few ribs. I was always a little, skinny, dried-up feller and wasn't stout enough to manhandle a horse around, so from that time on, I've searched for a better way to get along with a horse. Daddy traded a few horses when I was in high school. They were mostly young horses that we would ride awhile and sell, but we got hold of some spoiled
|