Although I work alongside men daily, particularly on most days, in what’s deemed a “man’s world”, I have started to find my sense of self here at cow camp. Days are long in the saddle, usually twenty miles or more, so when the sun sets I’m covered in sweat from my horse or myself. Along with the daunting task of untangling my haystack braid which has been ravaged by wind and/or rain. If anyone meets me up on the range, there’s a likely chance they’ll find me unrecognizable if they catch me cleaned up in town.
To get daily work around the house done, laundry is often washed before we leave, so the wind can dry it for me. Dishes often require a Coors Light for motivation, but a hard day’s work is enough cause to cook enough for a small army each evening. Two pounds of meatballs can be devoured within minutes in our small cabin of two. My floors look as though they are never swept, with muddy boot prints trailing across the old floor. I decided that life is too short to fret about a little dirt in the cabin and to leave the cowboy coffee making to the cowboy, you’ll never make it strong enough. The term “romantic walks” refers to walking my dog and picking rocks off the road that will pop a trailer tire. When you saddle up in the morning, load your horse last. Chances are you’ll be the first one ready and have to wait a bit contrary to popular belief that women take forever... Always and I mean always, pack a wool sweater. It is a necessity 365 days a year up here. It can be 45 one minute and 70 the next, and the worst thing is shivering down the trail. Should you happen to need to pee, you’re stuck with finding the nearest draw or largest sagebrush bush. Not to mention trying not to pee on the fringe from your chinks or be touched by unknown, possibly poisonous plants if you’re in the forest. The calf that is dodging two horses and sprinting down a hill, is YES still sick enough to doctor, don’t even ask. Whatever you do, keep all commentary about a unruly colt to yourself. You may find yourself in the crosshairs of a young horse and the frustration of your significant other. And most of all, a sense of humor is required to work with the same smelly cowboy day in and day out. I have figured out that four days is the maximum amount of filth your hair can withstand. In an effort to not lose all sight of my femininity, some days you’ll find me roping yearlings with my braid soaked in some voodoo miracle hair mask. This line of work will cause extremely moon pale legs, that at the mere mention of sunlight burst into flames. I try to pick mountain flowers to place in the band of my hat, to remind me of the beauty of this country. If I dare to paint my nails I’ll be asked how I smashed my finger to get it that color. Life at cow camp camp is not a glamorous one, but it sure is rich. Rich in endless miles to ride, good company, and pride in what you do. It’s not a job for those who wish for a 9-5, cell service, or a TV. But it is one for a cowboy lady, just like me.
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AuthorThis is a blog to share many stories, laughs, adventures and lessons learned by yours truly, Haley Potter. Archives
July 2023
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