|About the Book|
This book is Cowboy Poems about interesting episodes in actual happenings in and around the life of Ron Gale and about early day happenings in the early North West Territories of which is now Alberta. About Ron hiding in a Coyote den to get out of aMoreThis book is Cowboy Poems about interesting episodes in actual happenings in and around the life of Ron Gale and about early day happenings in the early North West Territories of which is now Alberta. About Ron hiding in a Coyote den to get out of a bad hail storm: THE COYOTEY DENIt was July, hot and sultry, and the year was forty eightRidin’ a piebald geldin’, coverin’ ground at a fair rate.I wus ridin’ the fences and checkin’ water fer cattle:Ten miles from the home ranch when the thunder started ta rattle.The clouds were really boilin’ up from the north- morbid’n black.It jus’ started ta rain when I heard the first rumblin’ crack.I wus sure gettin’ mighty darned wet an with no place ta hide.An’ that bald headed prairie could sure badger up a wet ride.I looked ta the north an I see’d an enormous bank of white-Which meant there wus some mighty rough hail just a comin’ in sight.It wus turnin’ so cold that all of my bones were a shakin’.An’ just moments ago I sat in the sun just a bakin’.About Ron and a young son winning a cattle penning and setting a new record at the Calgary Stampede. THE CATTLE PENNING At the Calgary Stampede in seventy two,With a young buckskin mare and her sire too.Me’n my son Bronc, a boy of twelve- but brass,We were goin’ to enter a pennin’ class.The cattle were wild- they’d bin greatly shook’d up.And we were the fourth team out when our time came up.We’d just entered the herd and trust ta our luck.When the mare I’m a ridin’ decided ta buck.Bronc held them out there in that wide open maize.About a Catahoula female dog named Cat. A DOG NAMED CAT On a ranch at Wildwood on a reclaimed bog.With an App’ horse an’ a Catahoula dog.I raised cattle on that wild and swampy ground.Where the Lobstick River meanders around.One bright sunny day, it was late in the fall.I rounded them critters and counted them all.Yet I was short in the end by fourteen head.With all of them calves- was the way that it read.Well I scratched my head and I furrowed my brow.Those calves wouldn’t stay with out at least one cow.So figurin’ that way, with the sun sinkin’ low.I headed upstream and the goin’ was slow.Six miles up the stream through the bush, swamp and bog.I arrived at those calves with my horse and dog.There were fourteen calves that stood bug eyed and keen.But nowhere on earth was a cow to be seen.I looked at the sun, ‘twas a terrible state.I couldn’t go for cows- it was getting late.Now to move those calves out would be quite a feat.But scatter or leave ‘em- they’d all be wolf meat.About Ron and his dogs moving four thousand head of reindeer in the Arctic: GATHERING REINDEER IN THE HIGH ARCTIC That midnight light of the night was calling from the sun in the Northern sky.To the adventurous soul within me, as I murmured my quick good bye.To my sweet wife and the life I’d chosen, on our ranch in the Foothills South.Off then to the McKenzie Delta, off to the North’s Canadian mouth.The snow was very quickly leaving in that land of the bright midnight sun,As we’re off to the Tuk Peninsula to the front of the reindeer run.Mid June we are herding the wily reindeer just east of the Beaufort Sea.