Sunday, July 20, 2008

Cowboy Dan's Photographs

Crack and knotholes





















Field

Yellow Wheel

Scratches

RE





















Stallight

Headcatcher





















Manurespreader

Raketines

Tools

Weldersmask




















Calf

Feedbucket

Angus

4leafclover

Barnswallows

17 comments:

Happy said...
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William said...

Oh, I was going to leave a nice comment about the photos.

But now I'm sad.

And hungry.

Dan Dutton said...

Well that's where the cowboy upping comes in.

This is just stuff you see on a farm every day.

They're cute when they're young but they can be onery too. When they take a notion to get out and run all over the place it'll about make you yell I'll be glad when you're a steak.

I took a lot more pictures of cows over a hundred we'd all be crying if we dwelt on it but we all have to go sometime.

Cathy said...

I especially like the rake tines.

Dan Dutton said...

You're not like the maid in Reynardine who was afraid of rakes.

Happier said...
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Dan Dutton said...
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Happier said...
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Dan Dutton said...
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Kim said...

Very nice photos! Cathy, the tines are my favorite too! BTW, in the previous post - the hardbody-hunk in the hay - is that you!?

Dan Dutton said...

Yep!

William said...

So, if I say "maybe Cowboy Dan is a poet, he should give it a go" will we get a post of cowboy poetry?

Dan Dutton said...

Yep!

William said...

OK.

Maybe Cowboy Dan is a poet, he should give it a go.










(Next, I'll ponder the possibilities of him being a pirate.)

Dan Dutton said...

Ma belle pal sans mercy!

William said...

Babelfish translates that as:

My beautiful stake without mercy!

I got nothin.

Google translator gives:

My good pal without mercy!

Hardy, har, har!

Dan Dutton said...

Yeah! That's pretty close. See that's the working title, apparently, of the poem that Cowboy Dan is working on for the post - it's a revisioning of a Johnny Keats "La Belle Dame sans Merci" in which Dame is the name of a cow, the one that always strays from the herd, jumps over a fence and leads all the rest to run crazy every which way. She's a pretty cow, but cussed.

Who knew?

He showed me what he'd scratched out:

O what ails you, Cowboy,
alone on the trail loafing?
The sage has withered on your knoll
and no coyote sings.

O again I say, what ails you, Dan
so haggard and woebegone?
The prarie dog has stuffed his cheeks
and the cattle drive is done.

I see lily on your brow
and anguished sweat like burnt off dew,
your cheek's not as rosy as your nose
and that's dried up too.

I met a Cow on the range,
as pretty as a fairy calf,
her switch was long, her loins were lean,
and her eyes were glassed.

I threw a lasso at her head,
tried for a foot, got it too,
she looked at me as I roped her down
and mooed.

I tied her lead to my trusty stead
and saw nothing else the whole day thru
but her sidelong glance, as she led me on
with that low and erie moo.

Till all that mooing lulled me so
Asleep I fell and down did go
out of the saddle to Cowboy Hell
and this is the sorry story I tell

I saw all the Cowboys that ever were
as pale as ghosts and and cussed as curs
and all as one they raised a yell
"that damned cow has led you straight to Hell!"

I saw their gloomy mugs for whiskey cry
their eyes were red, their throats were dry,
and when I waked, twas on the dirt,
horse and cow both gone, and I was hurt.

And that is why I'm loafing here,
rubbing Parker's salve on my butt that stings,
tho the sage is withered on the plain,
and no coyote sings.