My Tribute to a Real Cowboy
Ed Krauss
1952-2019
My wife and I met Ed in 2012 when a dear friend and fellow rider, Janet Carver, introduced us. She thought we might enjoy penning and cutting with our horses as much as she enjoyed it. We went to Ed’s place and there was Ed, sitting on a palomino horse he called Yeahbut. Ed sat with a cowboy slouch. He wore a dark brown felt hat that was coated with dust and a two-inch sweat stain around the hat band. He had a gray handlebar moustache that extended below his upper lip. He wore a dark green Wrangler shirt with the top button buttoned and rough out shotgun chaps. Peeking out from underneath the back of the chaps was a rock grinder rowel of his spurs with the tips blunted. He was coaching Janet and Dermont as they worked the cattle in preparation for a competition. Ed moved his horse invisibly with his legs in order to get the best position to view his students. His hands only lifted off the horse’s neck to stop. Marilyn and I both had one thought…THAT’S a cowboy. When the lessons were over, Ed and Janet came over for introductions. Ed first removed his hat to address Marilyn, the short cropped sides of his hair mashed down from hours under the hat. He had a welcoming smile and a twinkle in his eyes that made us really feel welcomed. He talked to us as he walked over to his tack room, and began to unsaddle Yeahbut. I knew I would like him and his sense of humor as soon as I asked about his horse’s name.
,The Round Up
Over a year had passed since our initial meeting. Ed taught me the difference between the front end and the back end of a cow as well as how to use a pair of fencing pliers. Marilyn and I had participated in our first round up with Ed at the White House Ranch in the Datil Mountains. Later he became the General Manager of that Ranch and he invited me to come for another roundup. We had to move about a hundred head or so, mostly cows with their calves. We had collected a lot of calves from the pastures where their mommas had told them to stay put. The rest of the drive was just a few miles and all we had to do was follow the road to the well and new pasture. Ed was being the “Judas Steer”. He drove a Polaris utility vehicle with cattle cake in the back and, every once in a while, he would stop and throw out some cattle cake to keep the cattle following the vehicle. Since the rest of the drive was anticipated to be easy, and thus far we had had no problems, Ed had two of the team ride ahead to ensure the corrals, gates and water was ready (they had checked it the week before, but a lot can happen in a week.) So, it was just me and Ed, he in the front leading the herd and me riding drag.
The Events
The calves always fall to the rear during a drive over a few miles. Obviously, their legs are shorter, and they seem to be looking for some nourishment from their mothers. What I didn’t know is that although they look plum tuckered out, what they really want is to follow their instinct and get back to where momma told them to lie down. Well, I made the mistake of going too far to one side and five of those poor tired calves struck out from the group. I yelled to Ed, then I was off at a gallop moving to the outside of the calves (remembering my bubble theory that Ed taught me). I thought “these little demons are out running my horse…they weren’t tired at all.” Then the worst thing happened. Two calves split off and three were high tailing it off in another direction. Well, after about a quarter mile, I finally got around and in front of the two calves and managed to work them back to the herd. As I approached, I was expecting some kind of acknowledgement from Ed for bringing back those two calves. Instead, Ed said: “you know you got to go get those other calves don’t you? If you don’t they’re going to DIE.” I knew not to say “Yeah…but…” I felt like me and my horse had traded places. It was the weight of responsibility. There was only me and my horse. Although Ed didn’t say it, his usual humor was gone and that tight upper lip told me he was thinking “and don’t come back without them.” My horse was still breathing hard from the last run when I turned her in the direction that the other three calves had headed, and we began cantering off.
So much was going through my mind: “There are only a few hours of daylight left and the shadows of the mountains were already filling the meadows. What if it gets dark? Where are Ed and the herd? I have never done this alone before…what if I couldn’t find them or bring them back? What if I fall off or Dahteste (my horse) steps in one of these darn holes (which seem to be everywhere) and breaks a leg? These aren’t my cows anyway, what do three calves matter out of over a hundred head of cattle?” After a mile or so (it seemed like ten) I saw one of the calves. Not far away I saw another lying down in the grass watching me. Oh great, where did the other one go? As I rode way around the two I saw, so not to put pressure on them and cause them to move, there… in the distance, I saw a pair of ears just above the grass about another two hundred yards away. If it wasn’t for the contrast of the back ears against the now golden lit tops of the grass, I would have missed the calf. O.K., its show time! Just like Ed taught me in the arena: “Get behind and move slowly, keep an eye on their head, they always look where they are going to go. Horse position is everything. Use your legs and keep your legs off that horse if it isn’t necessary.” I picked up the furthest calf and started it moving toward the other two. Hey this isn’t too bad. Then we got to the other two and picked them up as well. I could hear Ed in my mind saying “if you don’t know where you come from, then how do you know where you are or where you are going?” I guess I listened as the three calves and I started back in the direction of the herd. “Not too close or you will split them” I could hear Ed in my mind. “Watch their heads, pick a spot out in front of you and ride to it.” After a while, one of the calves bellered and I could hear the other cattle up ahead of us. The calves picked up the pace a little and the next thing I knew they were back in the herd. I expected Ed to say “that a boy” like he always did in the arena (although I was a year older than him.) He just nodded and started the Polaris and started down the road. The cattle followed him and we got to the pasture just about sunset. We got the cattle through the gates and they started drinking right away. Ed put down the rest of the cattle cake and we loaded the horses and headed back to the headquarters. Nothing was said about the calves…all in a day’s work and lessons learned and I finally understood a lot of what Ed was teaching me.
The Lessons
See, until then I was all hat and boots. I had read about the cowboy life and dressed up like a cowboy, even rode a horse. But some of the cowboy ethics and values that Ed had been preaching and living finally came to my understanding:
It takes courage to overcome the hardships and fear of chaos that face you every day. Everyone’s hardships are a little different but they are hardships all the same. Courage is something to value.
You can’t quit. There are consequences to quitting, both to yourself and those around you. Quitting destroys confidence, confidence you have in yourself and the confidence others have in you. With confidence you can develop the optimism that you can handle what is going to happen next, or tomorrow. That will improve your attitude and humor.
Ride for the Brand. It didn’t matter to Ed that those weren’t his cattle. And it should not matter to me either. I knew who they belonged to when I agreed to move them and I agreed to get them moved. Not some of them…all of them. Or we shouldn’t come back until we do.
Take pride in your work. I was looking to Ed for approval when I brought back those first two calves. Instead I got a reminder that I hadn’t finished the job nor done it well and that there were going to be consequences if I didn’t get the job done. When I came back with the other three calves, I didn’t need Ed’s approval. I knew I stepped up to the challenge and got the job done. With Ed’s nod of his head I know I had earned his respect for doing the job well, which was worth more than approval or trophies.
“When you think you need a hand…look first at the end of your wrists.” Ed said that a lot. And when I rode after those three calves I really wanted someone to help. Where are the other guys? Wasn’t it Ed’s fault that I couldn’t catch all five calves? Who else could do that? But there was no one else. I needed to be self-sufficient. As it turns out, I had the ability to bring them back. I just needed my head and my hands (not to mention my horse). I wonder if Ed knew that?
He will be Missed…
As I said, this is just one of many stories I could tell about my adventures with Ed. It was the most significant story and lessons for me. I will really miss him, although I think I will always have his voice in my head guiding me (some call it ribbing). He was a tough and persistent instructor and trail boss but I know now that everything he said or did was to help me to not establish bad habits, make future mistakes, or to understand his (now our) lifestyle. As he would often say “does that make sense?” Ed was a character. He was funny and quick witted. He was my teacher, mentor, and loyal friend. If (after looking at the ends of my wrists), I ever needed a hand, I know Ed would step up. He stepped up time and time again with problems I was having with my training techniques and my horses. I hope this story helps one understand Ed and the way of life that he lived. Maybe it will explain how many of us will miss him. As J.P. Owen said: “Cowboying doesn’t build character, it reveals it.” Ed was an authentic cowboy. When I grow up…I want to be like Ed.
Tim Norris; 2019