Fall Round-Up

Forty a month and chuck-wagon grub, Forty a month and found; Oh, think of the joys of a cowboy's life While you're ridin' the old bed ground.

The night herder's voice came in a lazy drone as he rode in a great circle around the bedded herd. Here and there a restless animal stirred in its sleep, another rose, milled about, and then lay down again; a calf bawled, and back in the rolling hills a coyote or two set up a yip-yap-yip that sounded like a full-throated pack.

A few hundred yards away, around the embers of a campfire and a tarp-covered wagon, a dozen or so weary men lay stretched at length on bedrolls after a long hard day in the saddle. The whinny of a horse came from the remuda nearby.

Otherwise, the Southwestern night lay quiet and still under its canopy of brilliant stars that seemed so close they were almost upon you.

The night guard rode on, his pony jogging along in step with the rhythm of the song: "Oh, Death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling, Oh, Grave, thy victor--e--e? The bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling. For you, but not for me."

It wasn't very good verse and it wasn't very good music, but it served a purpose that was practical. It soothed the cattle that had been hazed and joused all over the broad landscape for many hours, and it kept the night herder awake and alert to any sign of disturbance.

"Last night as I lay on the prairie And looked at the stars in the sky, I wondered if ever a cowboy Would drift to that sweet by and by."

The low, drowsy melody went on and on as the herder rode, until his time was up and a new guard was aroused from the sleeping circle of men around the chuck-wagon.

Now the voice was a bit fresher, and the tune, as the relief herder took over, was a little more lively:"Foot in the stirrup and hand on the horn, Best damned cowboy ever was born, Coma ti youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya. We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars, And that was the last of the old Two Bars. Coma ti youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya. I'll sell my outfit just as soon as I can, And I won't punch cattle for no damned man. Coma ti youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya."

The lyrics ran on by the yard and by the hour, andthere never was much sense to the chorus. But the night herders kept at it, one after another as the guard was changed, until the long night broke into dawn and the day herders took over.

Every clump of brush and every arroyo, left, is worked thoroughly and systematically, the cattle being driven to a designated spot where calves are roped and branded, above. Then the herds are divided as to brands, below, and held for such disposition as their owners desire.

It was a hard life of long hours and muscle-twisting work, with sometimes a few broken bones thrown in, but the cowboy chose it by preference.

That was back in the days of the great cattle spreads around about the turn of the century. The time, otherwise, and the location are unimportant. For the same scenes were being enacted in place after place, year after year, throughout the vast Southwestern cattle empire. Today, in more limited way, they are little different.

Along about the 70's and 80's an endless stream of longhorns had poured in from Texas and enormous cattle outfits had been built up in New Mexico and Arizona. In New Mexico, then like Arizona still a territory, the Hearst and Haggin interests' Diamond A had one fenced pasture which contained eight hundred thousand acres. The Aztec Cattle Company, known the world over as the Hashknife, was running more than sixty thousand head of cattle on its holdings in Arizona around Flagstaff and Holbrook. Some of the herds of southern Arizona were as large, or larger, including the Babocomari, the Empire Ranch of the Vail brothers, the Chiricahua Cattle Company, the San Simon spread, and Col. W. C. Greene's almost limitless holdings on both sides of the Mexican border. Some of these outfits did not even know how many cattle roamed their ranges. They guessed the number with the tax assessor, but none had fewer than twenty thousand head.

In those days the range was open, almost without fences, and the fall round-up was a stupendous event, which required many men and long weeks of preparation. In the almost limitless reaches of grass lands lying on the floors of the valleys and in the foothills between the great mountain masses, there were hundreds of miles to be covered. The big outfits often threw in together, pooled men, horses and resources, with sixteen to twenty men accompanying each chuck-wagon and a remuda made up of some two hundred head of highly trained cow ponies herded by wranglers.

As the country was covered, the men of each outfit cut out their own cattle and threw them into trail herds, to be returned to their home ranges. In addition, there were "stray men", owners of small outfits or their representatives, who ate at the chuck-wagons and helped with the round-up, dropping out when the limits of their range had been passed and their own cattle had been gathered.

The round-ups were conducted over huge circles of territory, intersecting each other. At the beginning, the chuck-wagons of the various participating outfits converged on assigned districts. Each morning the remuda was driven in and a great rope corral was formed by the men of the outfit holding the end of a lasso-rope in each hand. By turn, each man roped out the horse he wanted to ride that day from among ten or twelve head assigned him. Then the waddies were divided into two groups riding in opposite directions. They struck off in a trot, dropping a man here and another there until the last man of each group met at the opposite side of the circle. Every clump of brush and every arroyo was worked thoroughly and systematically, the cattle being driven toward a designated spot in the central part of the area.

When this had been done the herd was held until fresh horses could be brought from the remuda. Calves were branded and cows and beef cattle were separated by brands into the trail herds to be disposed of as desired by their owners.In this manner, day after day repeating the process, When the day's work was done the waddies assembled again around the chuck-wagons, the remudas were brought in and the night guards roped out their night horses.

Supper was served by the chuck-wagon cook, czar of the camp, and the night herders went off to their assignment, working usually in pairs for two hours at a time, but each man taking his turn of guard duty.

the range was worked, and usually six or eight weeks time was required for the round-up's completion.

It was a hard life of long hours and muscle twisting work, with sometimes a few broken bones thrown in for good measure. The cowboy's day began at 4.30 in the morning and did not end until 8 in the evening. He grumbled a bit, but on the whole was a cheerful soul who followed his trade by preference.

All that is changed now, with respect to distances and numbers of men employed by the ranchers. The range land has been cut up by fences. But the round-ups continue in smaller scope, and the methods and characters are about the same as they were in the days of the old cattle barons. For that matter, so are the numbers of cows and steers annually gathered.

Last year, Arizona had 959,000 head of cattle worth on the average about $60 per head, or a total of $57,460,000. It is doubtful if in the old open range days there were ever more than a million. And in those times the value ran as low as five dollars per head, good for nothing much but their hides and tallow.

Because the cattle ranges have not been, and never will be, depleted. Beacause of the natural availability and suitability of immense regions of grazing land in Arizona, livestock raising here will always be a great industry. Of the State's 72,000,000 acres, 85 per cent or more are used almost exclusively by range livestock and game animals. In addition to this 85 per cent, some five million acres which are of primary value for timber production, are of secondary value for grazing purposes. Only a little more than one per cent of Arizona's total area-fifth in size in the Union and very little additional land, without further irrigation development, is potentially useful for farming. Hence the range forages are perhaps the State's most valuable crop when converted into marketable form through the grazing of sheep and cattle.

Lush ranges of choice grass lands which were being grazed nearly to destruction by wandering herds of the old Texas longhorns are coming back into profitable production under the systematic management of today's ranch owners and the supervision of the Federal government, which still holds title to approximately 65 per cent of the state's entire area.

Ranges have been cut up into pastures where herds and grazing can be controlled and their production kept at the maximum. Cattle raising has become a specialized and exacting business. Low forage production per acre necessitates the maintenance of large areas in individual ranch units, with small profits per head to be taken on a large scale for profitable operation.

Except for the wild and untamable remnants of the few brought in by the Spanish invaders, there were no cattle in Arizona until the advent of the scrawny, tick-ridden longhorn which came in the trail herds from Texas. For these, the most profitable outlet was the filling of government contracts to supply beef for the army posts and the reservation Indians. But there were a few cattlemen of uncommon vision who foresaw a brilliant future for the range beef industry in Arizona, notably Col. H. C. Hooker of the great Sierra Bonita ranch in the Upper Sulphur Springs Valley. Colonel Hooker and his few distant neighbors began importing a select quality of Hereford bulls. In a few generations, the Texas longhorn, that humble but numer-ous animal around which was built all the romance of the early West, was literally and completely bred from the ranges.

With the advent of the fence, round-ups became less gruelling, but even fences are problems when a bunch of cattle must be pushed through them.

ridden longhorn which came in the trail herds from Texas. For these, the most profitable outlet was the filling of government contracts to supply beef for the army posts and the reservation Indians. But there were a few cattlemen of uncommon vision who foresaw a brilliant future for the range beef industry in Arizona, notably Col. H. C. Hooker of the great Sierra Bonita ranch in the Upper Sulphur Springs Valley. Colonel Hooker and his few distant neighbors began importing a select quality of Hereford bulls. In a few generations, the Texas longhorn, that humble but numerous animal around which was built all the romance of the early West, was literally and completely bred from the ranges.

Arizona's range cattle of today are almost exclusively fine Herefords. The Hereford, it was found, throve and even fattened under conditions where the longhorn starved. It is a sturdy individual, that white faced cow you often see out on the desert. She has been known to range twenty miles from water, leave her calf hidden under a bush and return within two days from her pilgrimage.

The Southwest's cattle industry undoubtedly has gone through drastic changes. The Texas longhorn has become a Hereford, and the Hereford has become a busi ness. An era of American life has been blotted out in the transition the period of the trail herds and the six-guns and the open ranges are gone forever. But the round-up and the chuck-wagon and most of the romance remain. The cowboy is still a cowboy.

Each waddie had ten or twelve horses at his disposal, from which he chose daily those he desired to use for each of the tasks of the round-up.