|
 Mighty
Superstition Mountain is a place were I retreat from
the rigors of city living. When I look toward the
mountain and its wilderness I can still see a small
part of pioneer Arizona. Actually, it is a land of
yesteryear. Each time I sit down to write, my mind
wanders back to those wild and wooly days on the old
Quarter Circle U Ranch.
I must admit those cowboy days made a man out of me.
Someone my father and mother could be proud of and
count on. When I worked on the Quarter Circle U
Ranch and a couple of other small ranches I realized
I was finally on my own. My teacher for the most
part was experience. No self-respecting cowboy-to-be
would want to admit he didn’t know a cinch from a
cinch ring.
Often my teachers were few and far between. Many of
these cowboys often didn’t know anymore than I did.
Those who knew more didn’t particularly want to
share their coveted knowledge with an untested hand.
I just wasn’t a part of the fold.
My knowledge was gained through experience.
Experience that often would put my life in peril. In
one year I had ten encounters and any one of them
could have cost me my life.
Rattlesnakes, rank bulls, mother cows, crazy
broncos, barbwire, Cholla, windmills, gun-happy
fools, intoxicated drivers, intoxicated cowboys,
mine shafts, flash floods, dynamite, and lightning
all tried to end my cowboy experience at one time or
another during my employment on the Barkley’s
Quarter Circle U Ranch. Today I cherish those close
calls as part of life’s experiences. I am not sure I
should, but the bravado of yesteryear are the
memories of today.
Life without peril on an Arizona cattle ranch in the
1950’s was non-existent when I was growing up. With
this in mind I think about my first encounter with
Cholla. Bill Barkley, the boss man for the Quarter
Circle U Ranch, had asked Mike Finley and me to
check on some calves over in Tule Canyon south of
the headquarters ranch. Mike saddled Scooter and I
saddled a horse named Pee Wee, better known to
cowboys as Spook. A gentle horse he was not! Mike
actually refused to ride Pee Wee. I think Mike knew
something I didn’t know. We rode out about 5 a.m. to
the sound of Cactus wrens and White-Wing doves. It
was just twilight. The eastern sky had just begun to
turn a light yellow.
The morning sunrise was beautiful as the rays of
light filtered down on the giant Saguaro cactus in
Barkley Basin south of Miner’s Needle. We could hear
the mournful call of a distant coyote and the first
of the early sounds of a late spring morning. Early
morning had presented us a beautiful day for a ride.
 It seems I always drew the spooky and wild-eyed
horses. Pee Wee was no exception. Pee Wee would
crow-hop or buck just depending on the atmospheric
conditions. Like I said, I learned from experience.
“Keep a tight rein on that spooky broomtail, Tom,”
called out Mike as we rode through an open gate. I
often wondered why Mike wasn’t riding Pee Wee. He
was much more experienced around horses than I. It
wasn’t long before I understood why Mike wouldn’t
ride Pee Wee. I soon found out a cowboy doesn’t ride
anything any ranker than required to get the job
done. Soon I realized I was in the school of hard
knocks. Most of the knocks were on me.
Mike and I rode through a saddle that separated
Barkley’s Basin and Tule Basin. It wasn’t long
before we spotted the calves Barkley wanted us to
check out. Most of the calves ignored us except for
a mule-eared small black steer. He must have thought
he had balls. He put his head down and charged our
two mounts. The little son-of-gun couldn’t have
weighted more than four hundred pounds.
Scooter jumped to the right, while Pee Wee broke in
the middle. His first jump had unseated me from the
saddle. I was still on his back, but not in control.
Pee Wee’s next move was a spinning crow-hop. On the
second spin he found a large Cholla and planted my
body on it.
Cholla balls covered most of Pee Wee’s right side
from his neck to his flank. I had Cholla balls from
my shoulder to the top of my boot. The pain was
excruciating. My whole right side felt like it was
on fire. Fear filled my mind. I expected Pee Wee to
break and go crazy. He didn’t! He just stood there
in one spot and shivered from shock.
This brief moment in time provided me an opportunity
to step to the ground and out of the saddle. I
collapsed on the ground in shock. Mike climbed off
Scooter and rushed to my side. When he saw all the
Cholla in me he thought I was a goner.
“Just lay there Tom, I’ve got to take care of the
horses.” Mike said calmly.
“Horses, hell,” I thought. Mike had his comb out
flicking Cholla balls out of Pee Wee. Each time he
flicked a Cholla ball off of Pee Wee the horse
jumped three feet. On several occasions Pee Wee
landed on one of Mike’s toes. Each time that
happened I cheered while tolerating enormous pain.
Half delirious, I finally heard Mike say, “Well it
is your turn cowboy!” I guess Mike had finally
decided I was going to live. I had never felt such
pain in my life. Mike started plucking Cholla balls
out of my hide slowly at first. He would say one,
two, three, and on and on. Finally after
seventy-three Cholla balls Mike had removed them
all. I had finally gotten over the initial shock. My
shirt was still stuck to my skin. My chaps and Levis
were even worst. I was one miserable amateur cowboy.
At that moment in time I was ready to hang up my
spurs. When Mike reported the whole affair to
Barkley he was more concerned about the damn horses
than me. I could be replaced for seventy-five bucks
a month, board and room. A good cow pony cost three
hundred dollars in those days and required several
years of training.
Barkley said, “You know, Slim, one of my cow dogs is
worth five good cowboys.” This greenhorn cowboy
found no sympathy that day. An inexperienced cowboy
sure didn’t rate much with Barkley. I was in such
pain that day it really didn’t matter. Mike treated
my wounds with Aloe Vera. I was laid up for more
than a week. My entire right side appeared as if it
had been hit with bird shot from a shot gun. My
introduction to Cholla was over kill.
Barkley’s tolerated the Cholla cactus on their range
because it was an important source of feed for their
cattle. I eventually got my revenge on the Cholla
cactus. I burned the thorns off many acres of the
cactus with a propane burner. When I burned Cholla
the cattle would come from all over the pasture to
feed on it. Each time I fired up the propane burner
I was extracting my revenge for my ride through the
Cholla on Pee Wee. |
