Some Winter Tales to ease the heart this Christmas season

By Tim Kalinowski

 

What’s better than sitting around the fireplace on a cold winter’s night, a hot mug of hot chocolate or something stronger in hand, throw-wrap about your shoulders, listening close as a skilled storyteller plies your ears with yarns of the bygone cowboy days? Well, reader, move in closer, and attune your ears, as the moustachioed bard of gentle humour and rhyme weaves his rich folklore for your kind consideration.

“Some of my stories are based on things I have heard other people say,” says sometime cowboy poet and perpetual cowboy storyteller B.J. Smith, “and heard other people tell them and spun them myself, but by far the vast majority of my stories are from personal experience of things that I did, and sometimes those are amusing and sometimes not so.”

“I recall a mentor of mine,” he says. “A dear, old friend that is no longer with us, but was probably one of the finest horsemen I have ever met. He ranched south of Pincher Creek on the Dry Fork Creek, and his name was Jeff Hardy. I used to keep some horses out with Jeff; so this actually happened one day out at his ranch.”

THE RUNAWAY

LET’S HITCH UP THE CHESTNUT MARE

HE SAID WITH A GRIN ONE DAY

WE WON’T FIND BETTER CONDITIONS

FOR A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH

THE NIGHT HAD DELIVERED A BLANKET

OF SNOW TO THE RANCHER’S YARD

THAT GLISTENED IN THE SUNSHINE

AND LOOKED LIKE A CHRISTMAS CARD

WELL HOW COULD I TURN DOWN AN OFFER

FROM A TEAMSTER AS WISE AS HE

FOR I WAS JUST LEARNING ‘BOUT HARNESS

AND THE USE OF A SINGLE TREE

THERE WAS DOC’S AND BAR’S IN THE BREEDING

OF THE MARE WE DECIDED TO HITCH

I BROKE HER WHEN SHE WAS A FILLY

AND KNEW SHE COULD BE A REAL…WITCH

SHE HAD MUSCLES ON TOP OF HER MUSCLES

HER WITHERS HAD CLASSIC FORM

A QUARTER HORSE FRAME THAT WAS SUITED

FOR RUNNING DOWN STEERS IN A STORM

THAT TRACK WAS REALLY HER FORTE’

SHE HAD QUARTER HORSE SPEED TO BURN

HER IDEA OF A COLLECTED CANTER

WAS SLOWING FOR THE CLUB HOUSE TURN

2

THE CUTTER WAS AN OPEN COACH MODEL

JUST RIGHT FOR A LIGHT SUNDAY CRUISE

IT WAS BUILT FOR ITS CLASSY APPEARANCE

AND WAS SOMETHING YOU COULDN’T ABUSE

THE EYES OF MY FRIEND WAS A GLISTENING

AND HE TOLD ME ABOUT HOW IT FEELS

TO REMEMBER THE DAYS OF THE HORSES

BEFORE THERE WAS AUTOMOBILES

NOW HE WAS NO AMATEUR HORSEMAN

THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS I’D BET

HE KNEW ALL THE TRICKS THAT WERE WRITEN

AND LOTS MORE THAT WEREN’T JUST YET

HE’D RIDDEN FOR MANY A MILE

UP AND DOWN THE VALLEYS AND DRAWS

‘TILL HIS LEGS LOOKED MORE LIKE THE HANDLES

OF A COUPLE OF CROSS CUT SAWS

I WOULDN’T SAY HE WAS BOWLEGGED

I’D NEVER SAY THINGS HE MIGHT HATE

BUT IF PIGS WERE LOOSE IN THE GARDEN

YOU WOULDN’T PUT HIM AT THE GATE

THE YEARS HAD LEFT THEIR IMPRESSION

ON HIS FACE AS KIND AS COULD BE

HIS HANDS WERE GNARLED AND WEATHERED

AND LOOKED LIKE THE BURMIS TREE

3

WHEN THE HARNESS WAS MOUNTED ALL PROPER

 HE CLUCKED NOW GET UP THERE SIS

THE SLACK WAS REMOVED FROM THE TRACES

AND HE STARTED TO REMINISCE

OF THE DAYS WHEN A SINGLE HORSE CUTTER

WAS THE WAY TO THE SCHOOL HOUSE GATE

AND YOU’D POLISH THE BRASS ON THE HARNESS

AND PICK UP YOUR FRIDAY NIGHT DATE

WHEN THE HORSE AND A RIG MEANT THE DIFFERENCE

BETWEEN STAYING AT HOME WITH A BOOK

OR STRICKING OUT ’ROUND THE COUNTRY

AND HAVING YOURSELF A GOOD LOOK

AT THE THINGS THE NEIGHBOURS WERE DOING

AND DANCES AND PARTIES OF COURSE

AND ALL THERE WAS TO RESTRAIN YOU

WAS WORK AND THE SPEED OF YOUR HORSE

WELL THE SPEED OF THIS HORSE, I WONDERED

MIGHT BE BEYOND HIS EMBRACE

BUT AS WE STARTED TO TRAVEL

EVERY HAIR SEEMED TO BE IN ITS’ PLACE

AS WE LEFT THE YARD BEHIND US

SHE BROKE TO A GENTLE TROT

AND MY WORRIES BEGAN TO ESCAPE ME

‘CAUSE CALMLY HE SAT THERE IN THOUGHT

4

OUT INTO THE FIELD WE PROCEEDED

THE MARE SAW PLENTY OF SPACE

HER TROT BECAME RATHER EXTENDED

BUT HE SEEMED UNAWARE OF HER PACE

INSTEAD HE JUST TIPPED HER HEAD SLIGHTLY

TO ONE SIDE SO SHE MADE A BIG ARC

HE DIDN’T GRAB REINS OR HOLLER

AS IF HE WANTED TO PARK

WHEN SHE LEFT HER TROT FOR A GALLOP

I REALLY STARTED TO FUSS

MY ELDERLY FRIEND IS IN PERIL

THAT DANG MARE I STARTED TO CUSS

HER PACE CONTINUED TO QUICKEN

AS WE SPED IN A CIRCULAR WAY

I WAS SURE WE WERE FACING MISFORTUNE

NOT TO MENTION THE FATE OF THE SLEIGH

IT WAS CLEAR I HAD TO DO SOMETHING

TO SAVE THIS KINDLY OLD SOUL

WHO SOMEHOW NEGLECTED TO NOTICE

THAT WE WERE OUT OF CONTROL

SO I PROMPLY GRABBED FOR THE REINS

AND STOOD THAT MARE ON HER EAR

WITH THE KIND OF PRESSURE I’D LEARNED

IN MY AMATEUR HORSEMAN CAREER

5

WHEN THE SNOW HAD SETTLED HE ASKED ME

NOW TELL ME WHY YOU DID THAT?

HE WASN’T AT ALL IN A DITHER

BUT MORE LIKE A DIPLOMAT

I SAID DON’T YOU SEE THAT I HAD TOO

A RUNAWAY WAS THE WORST OF MY FEARS

HE SMILED AND SAID NOW YOUNG FELLOW

HAVN’T HAD A GOOD RUNAWAY IN YEARS

HE POINTED TO WHERE WE HAD TRAVELLED

A HALF SECTION ALL COVERED WITH SNOW

AND LIKE CITY FOLKS IN A BIG HURRY

SHE REALLY HAD NO WHERE TO GO

THEN HE SAID HERE’S A LESSON ‘BOUT HORSES

AS WE STARTED TO MAKE OUR WAY BACK

YOU CAN ALWAYS GATHER A QUARTER HORSE

JUST GIVE HER A HALF MILE TRACK

“Christmas time is about children, and families, togetherness and so forth,” continues Smith as he sits back and resets himself to once again to hold forth. “It always has been for me anyway. I was fortunate that was how my life started out. I had two wonderful parents, and quite a large family, and Christmas time was really a special time of togetherness.

“Let me tell you quickly about Christmas mornings on our place out in the country. We had some cattle, and we milked about eight or ten usually by hand. So Christmas morning was an incredibly frustrating time for me because the rule around our place was the chores had to be done before any playing got to take place. I had two brothers and four sisters, and we’d have to be up and get at our chores.

“And, of course, one of them chores was to get the cows in and get them milked. We had to get the milk up and have it ready to go in the separator, and in the mean time the girls would be doing the kitchen chores and getting the fire going in the stove.

“So this tree would be in the living room with all these gifts under it, and we weren’t allowed to look at them until the chores were done.

“And, I can now tell you, it made little gifts seem huge if you had to wait a little while. It’s the same thing with food– it tastes so much better when you’re really hungry.”

Although his family had very little of anything at all, Smith says it casts no shadow on those early Christmas memories.

“I can’t say the Christmases I had later on in life were any better than the ones when I was on the ranch out by myself just with the family,” he says. “Those memories tend to grow brighter as I grow older. You forget the wind and the cold and the chores.”

In fact, says Smith, he and Old Man Winter have long since become fast friends— as anyone who works with raw nature and the elements must.

“I think the life of a cowboy puts you in close contact with raw nature the way it really is— unaltered by human existence. That is huge to me, and I am still fortunate I am healthy enough and agile enough I can see lots of horse trails in the mountains during the summer. I think what cowboys have in common with each other is they have this closeness to nature, and therefore an appreciation of nature, that is pretty special.

“There are lots of time I think: How could you not think there was a power beyond on Earth? Everything works together and everything has a purpose.”

But Smith digresses from his tale of winter friendship, and now finds his way to its return.

“When I was with the RCMP posted at a few one-man detachments in the Yukon, I used to like the winter up there,” he confesses. “I didn’t mind the cold. People asked me: How did you handle it? The only thing I didn’t care for was the length of winter. You would still be able to run your dogs in May almost. I would get tired of winter that way, but with the snow there is lots of things I would enjoy about it.

“Later on in life I became a ski patroller, and I did ski patrol around Castle Mountain resort for many year; almost 20 years. I loved it, and I loved the snow.”

For those with a slightly less exuberant feeling about winter, Smith has only this to say:

“I think the best thing in life in all things is to try to make the best of what you’re dealt with, and try to see the best in things. So one thing I often point out about winter is, ‘I bet there aren’t as many mosquitoes bothering you today.’”

But on a more serious note, Smith points to the recent snowstorms which afflicted much of Alberta— what he often saw was people helping their neighbours dig out from the snow, helping to push cars out of snow-banks, ranchers wading out into thick snow to ensure their cattle and other animals were well-fed and warm.

“In a sense, winter brings out the best in people,” he concludes.

And winter brings one other benefit, says Smith. With nothing else to do, with winter storms blowing outside the window pane, there is no better moment to share fellowship and give a few minutes of kind attention to an old cowboy storyteller.

“I feel like and old milk cow walking through tall grass,” he says. “I am udderly tickled you’d call on me.”

B.J. Smith is available to appear at any type of gathering where a person might be amenable to listening to a bit of Western, clean, non-offensive humour. He may also break into a rhyme or two.

To inquire as to his availability visit his website at www.bjsmith.ca/cowboy-poet.html or alternatively you can email him at bj@bjsmith.ca or give him a dingle at 403-317-4918