Across the hanging dust of a branding corral North and West of the ear line, it’s somewhat easy to see the hallmark of the cowboys of that country. As a hand punches a hole in his rope and tosses it over a bally calf’s unsuspecting crown, he pulls his slack and then dallies around a slick horn. That’s the hallmark. The dally. With pride, the cowboys of that region stack on their wraps as smooth as silk. They can shorten up. They can slide some line. They can even let go of, say, cows who run under their horses. Cowboys North and West of the ear line dally. From Arizona to Texas to Oklahoma, even some in Colorado, the punchers tie on hard and fast. They will rope heels in a branding pen, hold their slack until the rope tightens up, then head for the fire. They will rope sick steers in a wheat pasture, lay a trip and tie them down to get them the doctoring they need. Tying hard and fast is the hallmark of the boys in that country, and the only time we see it up here is during the calf roping or the steer roping at a rodeo—for the most part. My Grandpa buckarooed out on the Great Basin as a young man. His brothers swung rawhide, and he followed suit. On those vast spreads of sagebrush, no one was tied on. They were all dally ropers. The rawhide reatas hanging on Grandpa’s saddles were testament to the dally ropers with whom he worked. Grandpa had several jobs when my dad was in high school where all he did was ride through pastures and doctor cattle. At Stone Hereford Ranch, that and building corrals were about all he did, and he loved it. He told me that was the best job he had ever had. I couldn’t blame him. However, when he told me stories of cowboying around there, I always envisioned him pulling some of that Buck Branaman stuff. You know where he ropes a cow, dallies, throws a half hitch around the horn and does whatever he’s got to do to get her tied down. It’s amazing to watch, and I always envisioned my grandpa doing the same types of things. However, my dad and I were talking the other day about it, and he let me in on some deflating news. My grandpa tied hard and fast. He’d rope a sick calf, hang onto his slack until it was tight, then dismount like a slow-moving version of Dean Oliver, and shove a bolus down the critter’s throat. If an old cow was feeling lowly, he’d rope her, ride around her until he could get her down, then he’d pull his string out and tie her legs together. A bottle of combiotic and a syringe later, she was up and moving. It was kind of a let-down for me. I had envisioned my grandpa as a smooth dally roper when in fact, he may as well have been in wheat pastures tripping yearlings. It’s okay, though. That makes me feel a little less pressure to pick up on that Buck Branaman stuff or those Ty Van Norman tricks. I can go out and tag a calf and not have to tie any half hitches around my horn or hang onto my rope on the way to the cow. I’ve done it, and it’s most generally a wreck. One time, I even used the tail end of my forty foot rope as a string to tie a cow’s legs together. In a situation like that, a guy had better have a good knife handy. The point is that sometimes we put too much focus on doing something the pretty way, when we probably just ought to get in and get the job done, regardless of how it gets done. We could spend time putting together a foundation to feed the homeless, or we could just load up a bag of food and go downtown and start delivering. We could stage a big fundraiser to stop human trafficking, or we could get our feet on the ground in those places where it’s happening and stand up to it. We could push through a budget that will include pay for Sunday school teachers, or we could just volunteer a Sunday every month. We could go on a wonderful mission trip to some exotic locale, or we could start sharing Jesus with the folks in our own hometown. Loving others doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to be real. I have a lot better luck and a lot less rope if I just rope a calf, get off and flank him rather than dallying and carrying my coils to the calf. Both ways work. One just feels like a wreck waiting to happen the whole time. My kids know I love them when I spend time with them playing with Lincoln logs or having a tea party in the playhouse. We don’t have to go to Disneyland. My wife likes me to saddle her horse for her. I don’t have to take her to a fancy restaurant (I hope she doesn’t read this). Love is simple. When Peter and John were asked by a beggar for some money, Peter responded in simple love. He could have gotten all fancy and called a crowd around for prayer time, but he didn’t. He simply tied hard and fast and said, "Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk" (Acts 3). Don’t get fancy, just get to loving.
Posted on: Thu, 19 Sep 2013 03:51:42 +0000