This Cowboy's Dad/Poem/Rudy Gonzales

This Cowboy’s Dad

By Rudy Gonzales Jr. © 7/29/2004

I was riding colts in the early morn, on our ranch in Idaho.

  The high desert country was in the throws of spring and this colt had a long way to go. 

He was quick as a rabbit and light on his feet.  As we went thru our routine in the pen.
  He learned awful quick what I was asking of him, so we seldom had to do it again. 

There is something uncertain about these highbred colts.  They call them appendix bred.
With the size of thoroughbred, n strength of the quarter horse, sometimes the worst of both comes out instead. 

I caught my shadow as I worked ‘round the pen.  I could see a cowboy a settin this slippery hoss.
  Staying easy yet firm, as he worked round and round, but always showing this colt just who is the boss. 

 My mind seemed to wander back to the days of my youth, when my dad was riding rough string.
  I was transported in my mind, to the back of the fence, now it was my dad on this horse in the ring. 

He moves with the balance that is called in the ride, as he checked that hackamore rig to the turn.
  He could stop on a dime then set there a while, so the horse could think some and learn. 

I watched him a lot in the days of my youth; too soon the dream came back to reality now.
  It was me once again setting this fast stepping horse, and my dad’s image; well he just faded some how. 

Oh he was still living at the time of this ride, though he did live far away.
  He was hanging his hat on the far side of Oregon. Oh but he was sure with me in the round pen that day.