Cousin James' Roping Pen

I can remember, as a young boy, going to our Cousin James' roping pen on the week-ends evenings for my Dad to practice his roping. It sat high on a hill overlooking the river valley that we called home just southeast of Austin.

It was a summer outing where many of the ranchers in our area gathered to share quality time. It was where stories of what had happened during the week and updates on what was going on in our own little corner of Texas.

My mom and the other woman gathered along the fence line in their folding chairs to catch up on the local gossip or stories of what the "kids" had surprised them with during the week. A good recipe was always shared if anyone had one or maybe a update on how the canning was coming on the summer gardens.

The men would pull their horses from the trailers, saddle them and lead them into the arena to exercise them. They started with first a walk, then a trot and ending up with a full gallop around the oval shaped arena. I can remember Dad tipping his hat as he went by the ladies and my Mom wishing him Good Luck. then they would tie the horses along the far fence line to wait the start of the roping. I can remember my father walking among his friends with his hand always out for a handshake and a smile.

Before the sun dropped under the hillside, I and my brothers and friends would play games of Hide and Seek among the cars. Sometime the last of the evening light was used to catch grasshoppers and stuffed into a Dr. Pepper bottle with the hopes of going fishing the next day. As darkness took over the hilltop the fireflies floated in the pasture and dirt parking lot and we scattered to catch them.. Then we would bring both of our captures to our mother and show off our "catching" talents.

By the time the lights came on over the arena the calves had been brought from the far end of the pens and the men were loosening up their ropes while stretching their horses legs with quick bursts out of the chute.

Each man took their turn backing their horse into the small enclosure next to the chute. It was then that everything went quite and everyone's focus settled on the man and his horse.
When he was ready, the cowboy would give a nod of his head and the chute gate flew open. The calf would burst out and down the arena with our fathers close behind. With two swings of the rope the loop would fly and hopefully find itself around the calf's neck and the horse would slide to a stop with its back legs set in the dirt to prepare for the snap of the rope bringing
the calf to a wrenching stop. The man would already be off his horse and within a few seconds would have the calf down and with two quick loops and a cinch of his pegging rope have the animal secured.

The older "boys" got their chance at roping when the goats were brought out. Goats were what you learned to rope on... Graduating up to the smaller calves then to the heavy heifers that came with the coming of manhood. It was one of the ways we and the community knew when a boy became a man when he was no longer playing kick the can with his little brothers and friends but standing beside his Dad on his own horse waiting his turn in line to rope.

Finally, with tired horses, worn out kids, and mosquitos taking over the night, the horses were put back in their trailers, hugs were given and with a wave or honk of the truck horn we all headed home down the hill.

I can remember always looking back and watched trying to catch the moment the arena lights went out marking the end of a great night with our family and friends.

We left the ranch before I had the chance to join my Father and his friends in this tradition of this part of ranching. But I still to this day catch the sound of the grasshoppers in the weeds as they start their nightly songs and think back of those good times. Now with camera in hand, I go to visit the local men and their families in a near- by arena.   I sit high in the bleachers and watch them live and enjoy a lifestyle that I hope will never end.

That's part of being Raised Country

Johnny
10/9/2016