Merle Roehr
This book is a mix of simple short stories and poetry. Some are of a more serious spiritual nature, and some are just for fun. Most of all they are about feelings and memories. The life of a cowboy is a special and unique one. Mine has been mixed with the life that is shared with God first and then children. It is a combination which has brought out unique way of thinking and a life I consider a privilege to share with you. I hope it brings you enjoyment, smiles and yes, even a few longings. Pour a cup of coffee, sit back and enjoy life, and Thank You for letting me be a part of it.
Merle Roehr was born and raised in West Texas. He was married in 1983, and they have two children. He was reared with a strong belief in God and family. He and his family moved to New Mexico in 1991, where they now work in child care. He is a cowman in every since of the word, by heritage, by experience and heart, right down to his eighteen inch green top boots.
Preface
Sometimes there is an agony that comes from
deep within a man that wants to escape. There seems
to be a necessity to be in another time,
a time when men were free spirits,
somewhere in the west a hundred years ago.
The longing for the kind of life that has no boundary.
One of sitting behind a loose rein or at the edge of a
small campfire, and the romance that we all attribute
to that way of life. One thing I know this man cannot
escape this agony except through the pen.
Visible Signs of Real Cow Work
These observations are not that of just a cowboy but of a cowhand. If you come into headquarters, line camp or up to the wagon and you see any number of these things, you are around a real cow working camp and in good company.
Boots with holes in em, saddles with slick spots, spliced reins,
worn, cracked leggings, spurs without silver that shine,
wet blankets, lathered horses, limbered ropes.
Sweated and stained hats, unsettled dust.
Digger blades worn thin as cigarette paper,
fresh tamped dirt, new cedar post and new barbed wire,
fresh mesquite grubs, newly burned pasture, black windmill oil.
Callused hands, dark leathery skin and busted knuckles.
Baby calves in the heifer pasture,
branding fires still burning, bloody hocked calves,
burned out branding irons, swinging beef,
empty Bull Durham sacks and long shadows.
A cowboy with a smile on his face, a cup of black coffee.
You see even though the work is hard and dirty, there are enjoyable pleasures, accomplishments and relaxation. Every day is different and the scenery always changes. You see, it’s the place some of us want to be.
