Cattle Trails of the Prairies

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The first contact between the cowboys and the cattle is at the annual round-up when the whole territory over which the owner’s herds range is gone over and the cattle gathered for branding. The offspring are given the mark of the mother, and the ranch owner possesses a brand as exclusively as does a manufacturer a trade-mark. After the young have been lassoed, held, and had their flesh burned with the red-hot branding-iron, leaving a scar in the form of a letter, figure, or combination design that will last for life, they are turned loose and no human hand is laid on them until they become “beeves,” that is, four years old and ready for market. The cowboys live in cabins near the water-courses and watch the stock from day to day, sometimes having the herds ten or twenty miles away. Should any “mavericks,” that is, unbranded stock over one year old, get with the herd, they become the property of the person branding them, hence no inconsiderable addition is frequently made to a herd by this means.

Branding cattle in 1891.

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Once started, it was remarkable the orderly manner in which a herd took its way across the plains. A herd of a thousand beeves would string out to a length of two miles, and a larger one still longer. It made a picturesque sight. The leaders were flanked by cowboys on wiry Texas ponies, riding at ease in great saddles with high backs and pommels. At regular distances were other riders, and the progress of the cavalcade was not unlike that of an army on a march. There was an army-like regularity about the cattle’s movements, too. The leaders seemed always to be especially fitted for the place, and the same ones would be found in the front rank throughout the trip; while others retained their relative positions in the herd day after day.

At the start, there was hard driving, twenty to thirty miles a day, until the animals were thoroughly wearied. After that, twelve to fifteen miles was considered a good day’s drive, thus extending the journey over forty to one hundred days. The daily program was as regular as that of a regiment on the march. From morning until noon the cattle were allowed to graze in the direction of their destination, watched by the cowboys in relays. The cattle by this time were uneasy and were turned into the trail and walked steadily forward eight or ten miles, when, at early twilight, they were halted for another graze. As darkness came on they were gathered closer and closer into a compact mass by the cowboys riding steadily in constantly lessening circles around them, until at last the brutes lay down, chewing their cuds and resting from the day’s trip. Near midnight they would usually get up, stand awhile and then lie down again, having changed sides. At this time extra care was necessary to keep them from aimlessly wandering off in the darkness. Sitting on their ponies, or riding slowly round and round their reclining charges, the cowboys passed the night on sentinel duty, relieving one another at stated hours.

When skies were clear and the air bracing, the task of cattle driving was a pleasant and healthful one. But there came rainy days, when the cattle were restless, and when it was anything but enjoyable riding through the steady downpour. Then especially were the nights wearisome, and the cattle were ready at any time to stampede.

A cattle stampede.

No one could tell what caused a stampede, any more than one can tell the reason of the strange panics that attack human gatherings at times. A flash of lightning, a crackling stick, a wolf’s howl, little things in themselves, but in a moment every horned head was lifted, and the mass of hair and horns, with fierce, frightened eyes gleaming like thousands of emeralds, was off. Recklessly, blindly, in whatever direction fancy led them, they went, over a bluff or into a morass, it mattered not, and fleet were the horses that could keep abreast of the leade4rs. But some could do it, and lashing their ponies to their best gait the cowboys followed at break-neck speed. Getting one side of the leaders the effort was to turn them, a little at first, then more and more, until the circumference of a great circle was being described.

The cattle behind blindly followed, and soon the front rear joined and “milling” commenced. Like a mighty mill-stone, round and round the bewildered creatures raced until they were wearied out or recovered from their fright.

To stop the herd from milling, after a stampede or when in the cattle yards at the end of the trip, was a necessary but difficult task. As in a stampede, it was death to an animal who failed to keep up with his comrades, for in a moment his carcass would be flattened by thousands of trampling hoofs. The human voice seemed the most powerful influence that could be used to affect the brutes, force being entirely out of the question. As soon as the “milling” began the cowboys began to sing. It mattered not what so long as there was music to it, and it was not uncommon to hear some profane and heartless bully doling out camp-meeting hymns to soothe the ruffled spirits of a herd of Texas steers, a use which might have astonished the fathers and mothers of the churches “back in God’s country,” could they have known of it.

A stampede always meant a loss, and rendered the herd more likely to be and again panic-stricken. Certain hysterical leaders were frequently shot because of their influence on the remainder of the column. Another danger was that of the mingling of two herds; while in the earlier days the presence of buffalo either was a decided peril. A herd of buffalo roaring and tearing its way across the plain was almost certain to cause a panic, if within hearing, and outriders were necessary to watch for these enemies and turn their course from the trail. Besides, marauding Indians were always to be feared, and many a skirmish was had between the cowboys and redskins. An understanding with the chiefs was, however, usually sufficient to insure safety. Thus accompanied by incidents that brought into play all the strength and strategy of their guards, the horned host moved on. Rivers were crossed by swimming in the same order that had been followed on land.

Reaching the outskirts of the shipping-station the herd was held on the plains until the drover effected a sale or secured cars for shipment. Then the animals were driven into the stockades, dragged or coaxed into the cars, and were sent off to meet their fate in the great packing-houses. The journey had been a strange one to them, often accompanied by savage cruelties and the hands of heartless drivers, and the end of the trip with close confinement of yard and car, the first they had ever known, was strangest of all.

With the loading of the cattle came the “paying off” and the cowboy's brief vacation before returning to another year’s round of hard work and coarse fare. It was not, perhaps, to be expected that after nearly a twelvemonth of life on the prairies he should spend his outing in quiet and dignity. And seldom indeed did he. The cattle towns catered to his worst passions, and saloons and dance-houses flourished with startling exuberance. Gambling ran riot, and quarrels ending in murder were of frequent occurrence. During the height of the season might was the only law, and if occasionally a marshal was found, like William Hickok, the original Wild Bill, who could rule an Abilene in its rudest period, it was because he was quicker with the revolver and more daring than even the cowboys themselves.

Much glamour and romance have been thrown around the figure of the cowboy. He was not the dashing and chivalric hero of the burlesque stage, in gorgeous sombrero and sash, nor was he the drunken, fighting terror of the dime of character that his business induced. The cowboy lived a hard life. For months he never saw a bed, nor slept beneath a roof. He seldom had access to a newspaper or book, and had none of society’s advantages to lift him to higher things. The roughest of the West’s immigrants, as well as many Mexicans, drifted into the business because of its excitement and good wages, and this class, by its excesses, gave the world its standard for all. With the influences of actual contact with bucking bronco ponies and ferocious Texas steers, themselves by no means elevating, added to the temptations of the cattle towns, all the worst in the herder’s nature was sure to be brought out. But hundreds of cowboys were sons of Christian parents, and when they had made a start in life settled down at last as good citizens of the great West they had helped to develop.

The cowboy with his white, wide-rimmed hat, his long leathern cattle whip, his lariat, and his clanking spur is a thing of the past. The great Texas ranches are enclosed with barbed wire fences, and a genuine Texas steer would attract almost as much attention in the old cattle towns as a llama. Abilene, Ellsworth, Newton, and Dodge City are busy little cities surrounded by rich farming communities and with churches, schools, electric lights, and other evidences of modern civilization. No trace of the old life remains, except some weather-stained and dilapidated buildings, pointed out to the stranger as having been saloons where Wild Tom, Texas Sam, or other strangely named characters, killed men unnumbered “during the cattle days.” But even these traditions are known to but few of the modern inhabitants, so entirely has a new people filled the land in the last decade.

The cattle trails were in a measure educative. They brought the north and south of the Mississippi Valley into close business relations, a condition which was to the advantage of both. But the life that surrounded them could not endure. The homes of thousands of settlers have preempted the grazing grounds. Railroads are ten times more numerous than were the trails, and like the cavalier, the troubadour, the Puritan, and the “Forty-niner,” the cowboy and his attendant life have become but figures in history.

Added March, 2007

Also See:

The American Cowboy

The Cattle Trails

Cattle Trails of the Prairie

List of Trail Blazers, Riders, & Cowboys

Cowboys on the American Frontier

The Range of the American West

Tales & Trails of the American West

Cattle Trails of the Prairies, written by Charles Moreau Harger in 1892 appeared in Scribner's Magazine, volume 11, Issue 6, June, 1892; Charles Scribner's Sons; New York, NY. The article is not verbatim as it has been briefly edited for corrections, the most significant of which, Harger states Jesse Chisholm's name as "John" in the original text.

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