Kind of a drag
‘Tis the sucker season.
Over the years I’ve been invited to go on several trail drives as a nonpaying participant! I realize what an honor this is as there has been a rush of people paying for the privilege to “drink and drive.”
At the invitation of an ex-friend I was invited to take part in a three-day trail drive that seemed like a month. He promised “it would be the time of my life” and boy, was it ever! Besides wasting three days, it completely destroyed my self-esteem.
On the first morning the two designated trail bosses chose up sides like we used to do on the playground. You remember what a humbling experience that could be. All the good players get picked first. The choicest positions, those of riding point, swing or flank went to the paying participants. I was chosen last ... to ride drag, which is synonymous with getting picked to play right field. I don’t think my status was entirely due to me being a freeloader.
I’d been on previous roundups with the trail boss but a roundup is not to be confused with a trail drive. The trail boss always rode a real nice mare, but as I have mentioned previously, I happen to ride a noble steed by the name of Gentleman, an intact stud. The last time I was on a roundup with the trail boss, Gentleman tried to breed his mare while we were both mounted. The trail boss rode the rest of the ride looking back over his shoulder.
I think the real reason I was picked to ride drag was to put the maximum amount of real estate between Gentleman and the mare of the trail boss. And that’s how the guy who is used to riding herd instead rode drag, along with 12 spoiled kids and 14 dogs, all of nonworking variety. The good dogs rode point. The bad dogs and I ate trail dust.
When you ride drag you are basically herding two things: coyote bait such as gimpy cows and blind bulls and animals that have not yet developed brains, such as baby calves and all the children of the good cowboys who rode point. Riding drag is a misnomer because what you end up doing mostly is walking. If you insist on riding, the baby calves will walk between your horse’s legs. It’s like herding a bunch of cats. By the time we got to the bed ground, some of the kids and baby calves had new brothers and sisters.
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