Wild Horses

Cowboy poems about 13 year old boy “Ropin’ a moose, “At a loggin’ camp up in the Highwood Range,Where I worked as a kid; I tried to arrange;My thoughts on loggin’, and of cowboyin’ and such.I worked there at loggin’, while keepin’ in touch,With the cowboy aspects; of usin’ my rope;On anythin’ movin’ with ever a hope,Of me catchin’ a critter, a dog, or a cat,Or a chicken, a mouse, or even a bat.One mornin’ while ridin’ along on my horse,I heard a slight noise, and I spotted the source,A big old cow moose wandered up close into view.So I flipped out my rope; and I caught her too………………….’About a young boy coming in contact with a large grizzly bear on a one way trail; “Ridin’ by myself on a narrow goat trail,On the side of a mountain where rocks prevail.The trail was narrow with a hundred foot drop,On the near horse side as we’re nearin’ the top.Around a sharp bend I came right face to face,With a grizzly bear who halted my pace.My horse was shakin’; not the only one scared.I had no rifle and I wasn’t prepared……………….’About starting a wild curly gelding; “The sun was about to crest the far horizon on a fresh Alberta morn’.As I tacked up a “wildy” curly gelding, with a saddle not ‘for worn.He was a North American Curly caught wild on the plains.As a six year old he was caught and gelded and now to use his brains.He stood there like a trooper as I cinched him up a mite.I took him for a tiny walk ‘for I pulled it kind’er tight……………..’About a young lad being snowed in at a cow camp on Christmas Eve; “In an old line shack, way out in the back,I’m a dreamin’ of Christmas chuck.Out where there’s some gells and those Christmas bells.But snow bound right in here I’m stuck.The cold North winds cry, while the drifts grow high.And the flame is blazing higher.I do realize there are no supplies,As I stoke up the blazing fire. ‘About cowboys and a biker crew fight; “We’re traveling slow as we chanced to go to a small town out in The West.And it was right there that Jake and “The” Bear were to prove they were the best.Now Jake and “The” Bear, a team ropin’ pair, and this small town had a meet.Before we got down to this little town we figured we’d better eat.But then parked not far from that tiny bar; was a dozen bikers sat there.I then tried to hide all my fear inside as tension filled up the air.And the tension grew as the biking crew got to shovin’ their weight ‘round.And just then I said “Before we’re all dead let’s find some other new ground.”But, as was our fate, it was just too late; their leader, a brute’ of a guy.All dressed up in black, and there on his back, were the words that said…………………….’About a cowhand (A lady cowgirl); “Ya! I saw the cowhand smack the riggin’ onto that old bronco’s back.I had a strong and hunchy feeling: That, right there, I’d seen the knack. ‘About a calf roping in the rain; “At a rodeo at Barrhead, when I was livin’ the life,On a little white mare that belonged to my wife.On a day that the weather could change at the drop of a hat;The Alberta weather can surely get like that.I rode in and I entered the box on that memorable day,In an arena where footing was sand and clay.The weather was sure unpromisin’ with the lightnin’ and all,As I backed up in the box and made it my call………….’ All these poems and many, many more during part of the life of Ron Gale.