Arizona Sketches
J >>
Joseph A. Munk >> Arizona Sketches
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9
CHAPTER V
THE ROUND-UP
In the range cattle business it is important for every owner of
live stock to have some mark by which he can tell his own cattle.
It is impossible for any man to remember and recognize by natural
marks every animal in a large herd. On the open range there are
no fenced pastures to hold the cattle, but all are permitted to
run free and mix promiscuously. To distinguish the cattle of
different owners a system of earmarks and brands has been devised
by which each ranchman can identify and claim his own stock.
The branding is usually done during a round-up when every calf
found is caught and branded in the brand of its mother. If a
calf remains unbranded until after it is weaned and quits its
mother, it becomes a maverick and is liable to be lost to its
owner. A calf, if left to itself, will follow its mother for
several months and then leave her to seek its own living.
Occasionally a calf does not become weaned when it should be, but
continues the baby habit indefinitely. If a yearling is found
unweaned it is caught and "blabbed" which is done by fitting a
peculiarly shaped piece of wood into its nose that prevents it
from sucking but does not interfere with feeding.
If a calf loses its mother while very young it is called a
"leppy." Such an orphan calf is, indeed, a forlorn and forsaken
little creature. Having no one to care for it, it has a hard
time to make a living. If it is smart enough to share the lacteal
ration of some more fortunate calf it does very well, but if it
cannot do so and has to depend entirely on grazing for a living
its life becomes precarious and is apt to be sacrificed in the
"struggle for the survival of the fittest."
If it survives the ordeal and lives it bears the same relation to
the herd as the maverick and has no lawful owner until it is
branded. If an unbranded calf has left or lost its mother it has
lost its identity as well and finds it again only after being
branded, although it may have swapped owners in the process.
Theoretically, a maverick belongs to the owner of the range on
which it runs, but, practically, it becomes the property of the
man who first finds and brands it.
Although the branding is supposed to be done only during a
round-up there is nevertheless some branding done in every month
of the year. The ranchman is compelled to do so to save his
calves from being stolen. Therefore early branding is generally
practiced as it has been found to be the best safeguard against
theft. Either the spring or fall is considered a good time to
brand, but the only best time to brand a calf is when you find
it.
Dishonest men are found in the cattle business the same as in
other occupations and every year a large number of cattle are
misappropriated and stolen from the range. Cattle have been
stolen by the wholesale and large herds run off and illegally
sold before the owner discovered his loss. Calf stealing,
however, happens more frequently than the stealing of grown
cattle and many ingenious devices have been invented to make such
stealing a success. A common practice is to "sleeper" a calf by
a partial earmark and a shallow brand that only singes the hair
but does not burn deep enough to leave a permanent scar. If the
calf is not discovered as an imperfect or irregular brand and
becomes a maverick, it is kept under surveillance by the thief
until he considers it safe to finish the job when he catches it
again and brands it with his own iron.
Different methods are employed to win a calf and fit it for
unlawful branding. Sometimes the calf is caught and staked out
in some secluded spot where it is not liable to be found and away
from its mother until it is nearly starved when it is branded by
the thief and turned loose; or, the calf's tongue is split so
that it cannot suck and by the time that the wounded tongue has
healed the calf has lost its mother, and the thief brands it for
himself. Again, the mother cow is shot and killed, when the
orphan calf is branded in perfect safety as "the dead tell no
tales."
The owner of cattle on the open range must be constantly on his
guard against losses by theft. Usually the thief is a dishonest
neighbor or one of his own cowboys who becomes thrifty at his
employer's expense. Many a herd of cattle was begun without a
single cow, but was started by branding surreptitiously other
people's property. It is not an easy matter to detect such a
thief or to convict on evidence when he is arrested and brought
to trial. A cattle thief seldom works alone, but associates
himself with others of his kind who will perjure themselves to
swear each other clear.
The cow ponies that are used in range work are small but active
and possessed of great power of endurance. They are the
descendants of the horses that were brought into Mexico by the
Spaniards, some of which escaped into the wilderness and their
increase became the wild horses of the plains. They are known by
the various names of mustang, bronco and cayuse according to the
local vernacular of the country in which they roam. They are
wild and hard to conquer and are sometimes never fully broken
even under the severest treatment. Bucking and pitching are
their peculiar tricks for throwing a rider and such an experience
invariably ends in discomfort if not discomfiture, for if the
rider is not unhorsed he at least receives a severe shaking up
in the saddle.
The native cattle, like the horses, are small and wild, but are
hardy and make good rustlers. The native stock has been greatly
improved in recent years by cross breeding with thoroughbred
Durham and Hereford bulls. Grade cattle are better suited for
the open range than are pure bred animals, which are more tender
and fare better in fenced pastures. By cross breeding the
quality of range cattle has steadily improved until the scrub
element has been almost bred out.
As a breeding ground Arizona is unsurpassed, but for maturing
beef cattle the northern country is preferable. Thousands of
young cattle are shipped out annually to stock the ranges of
Wyoming and Montana and to fill the feed lots of Kansas, Missouri
and other feeding states. A dash of native blood in range cattle
is desirable as it enables them to endure hardships without
injury and find subsistence in seasons of drought and scant
forage.
The general round-up occurs in the fall, just after the summer
rains, when there is plenty of grass and the horses and cattle
are in good condition. The ranchmen of a neighborhood meet at an
appointed time and place and organize for systematic work. A
captain is chosen who is in command of the round-up and must be
obeyed. Each cowboy has his own string of horses, but all of the
horses of the round-up not in use are turned out to graze and
herd together. A mess wagon and team of horses in charge of a
driver, who is also the cook, hauls the outfit of pots,
provisions and bedding.
The round-up moves from ranch to ranch rounding up and marking
the cattle as it goes and is out from four to six weeks,
according to the number of ranches that are included in the
circuit.
When camp is made and everything ready for work the cowboys ride
out in different directions and drive in all the cattle they can
find. After the cattle are all gathered the calves are branded
and the cattle of the several owners are cut into separate herds
and held until the round-up is finished when they are driven
home.
Every unbranded calf is caught and branded in its mother's brand.
In a mix-up of cattle as occurs at a round-up, a calf sometimes
gets separated from its mother so that when caught its identity
is uncertain. To avoid making a mistake the calf is only
slightly marked, just enough to hurt it a little, and is then
turned loose. A calf when it is hurt is very much like a child,
in that it cries and wants its mamma. As quick as it is let go
it immediately hunts its mother and never fails to find her.
When cow and calf have come together the calf is again caught and
the branding finished.
The pain produced by the hot branding iron makes the calf bawl
lustily and struggle to free itself. The mother cow sometimes
resents the punishment of her offspring by charging and chasing
the men who are doing the branding; or, if she is of a less fiery
disposition, shows her displeasure by a look of reproach as much
as to say, "You bad men, what have you done to hurt my little
darling?"
A peculiarity of brands is that they do not all grow alike.
Sometimes a brand, after it is healed, remains unchanged during
the life of the animal. At other times it enlarges to several
times its original size. Various reasons are assigned to account
for this difference. Some claim that the brand only grows with
the calf; others assert that it is due to deep branding; and,
again, it is ascribed to lunar influence. But, as to the real
cause of the difference, no explanation has been given that
really explains the phenomenon.
The cowboy's work is nearly all done in the saddle and calls for
much hard riding. He rides like a Centaur, but is clumsy on his
feet. Being so much in the saddle his walking muscles become
weakened, and his legs pressing against the body of his horse, in
time, makes him bowlegged. In addition he wears high-heeled
Mexican boots which throw him on his toes when he walks and makes
his already shambling gait even more awkward.
A cowboy's life has little in it to inspire him with high ideals
or arouse his ambition to achieve greatness. He leads a hard
life among rough men and receives only coarse fare and rougher
treatment. His life is narrow and he works in a rut that
prevents him from taking a broad view of life. All that he has
is his monthly wages, and, possibly, a hope that at some future
day he may have a herd of cattle of his own.
Managing a herd of range cattle successfully is an art that can
only be acquired by long practice, and it is surprising how
expert men can become at that business. All the work done among
cattle is on horseback, which includes herding, driving, cutting
and roping. The trained cow pony seemingly knows as much about a
round-up as his master, and the two, together, form a combination
that is invincible in a herd of wild cattle. The cow or steer
that is selected to be roped or cut out rarely escapes. While
the horse is in hot pursuit the rider dexterously whirls his
reata above his head until, at a favorable moment, it leaves his
hand, uncoiling as it flies through the air, and, if the throw is
successful, the noose falls over the animal's head. Suddenly the
horse comes to a full stop and braces himself for the shock.
When the animal caught reaches the end of the rope it is brought
to an abrupt halt and tumbled in a heap on the ground. The horse
stands braced pulling on the rope which has been made fast to the
horn of the saddle by a few skillful turns. The cowboy is out of
the saddle and on his feet in a jiffy. He grasps the prostrate
animal by the tail and a hind leg, throws it on its side, and
ties its four feet together, so that it is helpless and ready for
branding or inspection. The cowboys have tying contests in which
a steer is sometimes caught and tied in less time than a minute.
It is a comical sight to see an unhorsed cowboy chase his runaway
horse on foot as he is almost sure to do if caught in such a
predicament. He ought to know that he cannot outrun his fleet
steed in such a race, but seems to be impelled by some strange
impulse to make the attempt. After he has run himself out of
breath he is liable to realize the folly of his zeal and adopt a
more sensible method for capturing his horse.
The cowboy who works on the southwestern range has good cause to
fear the malodorous hydrophobia skunk. At a round-up all of the
cowboys sleep on the ground. During the night, while they are
asleep, the little black and white cat-like animal forages
through the camp for something to eat. Without provocation the
skunk will attack the sleeper and fasten its sharp teeth in some
exposed portion of his anatomy, either the nose or a finger or
toe and will not let go until it is killed or forcibly removed.
The wound thus made usually heals quickly and the incident is,
perhaps, soon forgotten; but after several weeks or months
hydrophobia suddenly develops and proves fatal in a short time.
The only known cure for the bite of the skunk is the Pasteur
treatment and, since its discovery, as soon as anyone is bitten,
he is immediately sent to the Pasteur Institute in Chicago for
treatment.
CHAPTER VI
RANCH HAPPENINGS
Ranch life is often full of thrilling incidents and adventures.
The cowboy in his travels about the country looking after cattle,
hunting wild game or, in turn, being hunted by yet wilder
Indians, finds plenty of novelty and excitement to break any
fancied monotony which might be considered as belonging to ranch
life. In a number of visits to the range country during the past
twenty years, the writer has had an opportunity to observe life
on a ranch, and experience some of its exciting adventures.
One day in the summer of 1891, Dave Drew, our foreman, Tedrow,
one of the cowboys, and myself, made a trip into East Canon in
the Dos Cabezas mountains, in search of some large unbranded
calves which had been seen running there. We rode leisurely
along for some time and passed several small bunches of cattle
without finding what we were looking for. As we neared a bend in
the canon, Dave, who rode in advance, saw some cattle lying in
the shade of a grove of live oak trees. Instantly he spurred his
horse into a run and chased after the cattle at full speed, at
the same time looking back and shouting that he saw two mavericks
and for us to hurry up and help catch them. It was a bad piece
of ground to cover and we found it difficult to make progress or
to even keep each other in sight. Tedrow hurried up as fast as
he could while I brought up the rear.
In trying to get through in the direction that Dave had gone, we
tried to make a short cut in order to gain time, but soon found
our way completely blocked by immense boulders and dense thickets
of cat-claw bushes, which is a variety of mesquite covered with
strong, sharp, curved thorns. We turned back to find a better
road and after some time spent in hunting an opening we
discovered a dim trail which soon led us into a natural park of
level ground hidden among the foothills. Here we found Dave who
alone had caught and tied down both the calves and was preparing
to start a fire to heat the branding irons. What he had done
seemed like magic and was entirely incomprehensible to an
inexperienced tenderfoot.
Dave explained afterwards that to be successful in such a race
much depended on taking the cattle by surprise, and then by a
quick, bold dash start them running up the mountain, when it was
possible to overtake and rope them; but if once started to
running down hill it was not only unsafe to follow on horseback
but in any event the cattle were certain to escape. Taking them
by surprise seemed to bewilder them and before they could collect
their scattered senses, so to speak, and scamper off, the work of
capture was done.
Another adventure, which did not end so fortunately for met
happened in the fall of I 887 when the country was yet
comparatively new to the cattle business. I rode out one day in
company with a cowboy to look after strays and, incidentally, to
watch for any game that might chance to cross our path. We rode
through seemingly endless meadows of fine gramma grass and saw
the sleek cattle feeding on plenty and enjoying perfect
contentment. Game, also, seemed to be abundant but very shy and
as we were not particularly hunting that kind of stock, we
forebore giving chase or firing at long range.
After riding about among the hills back of the Pinaleno ranch and
not finding anything we concluded to return home. On starting
back we separated and took different routes, going by two
parallel ravines in order to cover more ground in our search. I
had not gone far until I found the cattle we were looking for
going to water on the home trail. Jogging on slowly after them
and enjoying the beauty of the landscape, I unexpectedly caught a
glimpse of a deer lying down under a mesquite tree on the brow of
a distant hill. I was in plain sight of the deer, which was
either asleep or heedless of danger as it paid no attention
whatever to my presence.
Deer and antelope soon become accustomed to horses and cattle and
often mix and feed familiarly with the stock grazing on the open
range. The deer did not change its position as I quietly rode by
and out of sight behind the hill. There I dismounted and stalked
the quarry on foot, cautiously making my way up the side of the
hill to a point where I would be within easy shooting distance.
As I stood up to locate the deer it jumped to its feet and was
ready to make off, but before it could start a shot from my
Winchester put a bullet through its head, and it scarcely moved
after it fell. The deer was in good condition and replenished
our depleted ranch larder with some choice venison steaks. The
head, also, was a fine one the horns being just out of velvet and
each antler five pointed, was saved and mounted.
The shot and my lusty halloo soon brought my cowboy friend to the
spot. Together we eviscerated the animal and prepared to pack it
to camp on my horse. As we were lifting it upon his back the
bronco gave a vicious kick which hit me in the left knee and
knocked me down. The blow, though severe, glanced off so that no
bone was broken. What made the horse kick was a mystery as he
was considered safe and had carried deer on other occasions. But
a bronco, like a mule, is never altogether reliable, particularly
as to the action of its heels. With some delay in getting
started and in somewhat of a demoralized condition we mounted and
rode home.
Soon after the accident I had a chill which was followed by a
fever and there was much pain and swelling in the knee that was
hit. A ranch house, if it happens to be a "stag camp" as ours
was, is a cheerless place in which to be sick, but everything
considered, I was fortunate in that it was not worse. By the
liberal use of hot water and such other simples as the place
afforded I was soon better; but not until after several months'
treatment at home did the injured knee fully recover its normal
condition.
The excitement of running cattle or hunting game on the open
range in those days was mild in comparison to the panicky feeling
which prevailed during every Indian outbreak. The experience of
many years had taught the people of Arizona what to expect at
such a time and the utter diabolical wickedness of the Apaches
when out on the warpath. During the early eighties many such
raids occurred which were accompanied by all the usual horrors of
brutality and outrage of which the Apaches are capable.
When it became known in the fall of 1885 that Geronimo was again
off the reservation and out on another one of his bloody raids
the people became panic-stricken. Some left the Territory until
such time when the Indian question would be settled and the
Government could guarantee freedom from Indian depredations.
Those who remained either fled to some near town or fort for
protection, or prepared to defend themselves in their own homes
as best they could.
What else could the settlers in a new country do? They had
everything invested in either mines or cattle and could not
afford to leave their property without making some effort to save
it even if it had to be done at the risk of their own lives.
They had no means of knowing when or where the stealthy Apaches
would strike and could only wait for the time in uncertainty and
suspense. Many who were in this uncomfortable predicament
managed to escape any harm, but others fell victims to savage
hatred whose death knell was sounded in the crack of the deadly
rifle.
Some personal experiences may help to illustrate this feeling of
panic, as I happened to be at the ranch during the time and know
how it was myself.
One day in the month of October, 1885, while Geronimo was making
his raid through southern Arizona, my brother and I rode through
Railroad Pass from Pinaleno ranch to the Lorentz Place, a
distance of fifteen miles. It was about four o'clock in the
afternoon that we ascended to the top of a hill to take
observations and see if anything was happening out of the
ordinary. We saw nothing unusual until we were about to leave
when we noticed somewhat of a commotion on the old Willcox and
Bowie wagon road which parallels the Southern Pacific track. The
distance was too great to see distinctly with the naked eye, but
looking through our field glasses, which we always carried when
out riding, we could plainly see three loaded wagons standing in
the road. The drivers had evidently unhitched their teams and,
mounted upon the horses' backs, were riding furiously in a cloud
of dust down the road towards Bowie.
I asked the judge, who was a resident and supposed to be familiar
with the customs of the country while I was only a tenderfoot,
what their actions meant. He admitted that he did not understand
their conduct unless it was that they had concluded that they
could not make Willcox on that day and were returning to some
favorable camp ground which they had passed on their way up, to
spend the night; but the manner of their going was certainly
peculiar. After watching them disappear down the road we rode on
and reached our destination in safety.
The incident was forgotten until a few days later when we were in
Willcox a friend inquired what had become of the Indians which
had lately been seen on our range. We replied that we had not
seen any Indians nor known of any that had been there. He then
related to us how only a few days before three freighters had
seen two Indians ride upon a hill and halt. The sight of Indians
was enough and their only care after that was to get away from
them. They quickly unhitched their horses from the wagons and
rode ten miles to Bowie where they gave the alarm and spent the
night. The next morning, having heard nothing more from the
Indians during the night, they took fresh courage and ventured to
return to their wagons, which they found as they had left them
unmolested, when they continued their journey.
When the freighters were asked why they did not stand off the
Indians they said that they only had one gun and not knowing how
many more redskins there might be decided that to retreat was the
better part of valor. It was my brother and I whom they had seen
and mistaken for Indians.
A few days after this event I had a similar scare of my own and
after it was over I could sympathize with the poor, frightened
freighters. I was alone at the ranch house packing up and
preparing to leave for home. While thus occupied I chanced to go
to the open door and looking out, to my dismay, I saw Indians.
"My heart jumped into my mouth" and for a moment I felt that my
time had surely come. Two men were seen riding horseback over
the foot hills followed by a pack animal. As I stood watching
them and took time to think, it occurred to me that I might be
mistaken, and that the men were not Indians after all. As they
drew nearer I saw that they were dressed like white men and,
therefore, could not be Indians; but my scare while it lasted was
painfully real. The men proved to be two neighboring ranchmen
who were out looking for lost cattle.
In this raid, the Apaches, after leaving their reservation in the
White mountains, traveled south along the Arizona and New Mexico
line, killing people as they went, until they reached Stein's
Pass. From there they turned west, crossed the San Simon valley
and disappeared in the Chiricahua mountains. When next seen they
had crossed over the mountains and attacked Riggs' ranch in
Pinery canon, where they wounded a woman, but were driven off.
The next place that they visited was the Sulphur Spring ranch of
the Chiricahua Cattle Company, where they stole a bunch of
horses. The cowboys at the ranch had received warning that there
were Indians about and had brought in the horse herd from the
range and locked them in the corral. The Apaches came in the
night and with their usual adroitness and cunning stole the
corral empty. The first intimation which the inmates had that
the ranch had been robbed was when the cowboys went in the
morning to get their horses they found them gone.
From the Sulphur Spring ranch they crossed the Sulphur Spring
valley in the direction of Cochise's stronghold in the Dragoon
mountains. Before reaching the mountains they passed Mike
Noonan's ranch where they shot its owner, who was a lone rancher
and had lived alone in the valley many years. He was found dead
in his door yard with a bullet hole in the back of his head. He
evidently did not know that the Indians were near and was
seemingly unconscious of any danger when he was killed.
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9