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Joe Kreger
Goin' After One
Still Lookin' - 01/01/2000
by Joe Kreger
Drinkin' coffee from a tin cup on a gray December morning,
the cowboy in the line shack heard the radio give warning.
The announcer said a norther would soon begin to blow.
He claimed it'd drop near zero with high winds and heavy snow.
The cowboy looked out the window to the sky up in the north.
The wind was pickin' up; dark blue clouds were comin' forth.
He was thinkin' of the cows, with fall calves out on the flat.
Should he bring'em to the timber trap, or leave'em where the're at?
He put on all his winter gear, stepped out in the mornin' air.
"It won't take long to bring'em in; there's only fifty pair."
The grass range held spring calves; they'd shipped calves in November.
Just fifty calves left on the place, the best he could remember.
That fifty pair was on the flat, grazin' winter wheat.
Wasn't any kind of windbreak to which they could retreat.
The dry cows on the big grass was bound to be okay.
He'd bring the pairs to the timber trap and load'em up on hay.
The cowboy grabbed his bridle and went to catch ol' Roney.
"It's days like this you appreciate a sure-nuff gentle pony."
He saddled up, untracked his mount, and slipped up in the saddle.
Roaney and the cowboy went out to gather cattle.
The wind was really howlin' when they got up to the flat.
The fleece-line hood that warmed his ears sure beat a cowboy hat.
When they got in sight of cattle, they felt the sting of snow.
Roaney didn't like the headwind; he was movin' pretty slow.
They made a little circle, took a rough cow count.
The cowboy was getting' chilly to say nothing of his mount.
Cow countin' wasn't easy, but they appeared to be all there.
Roaney and the cowboy started drivin' fifty pair.
Drivin' cows with calves in headwind is never very easy,
and snow and short wheat pasture make the footin' kinda greasy.
The snow was getting' blinding; they were all as cold as sin.
But Roaney and the cowboy finally got the cattle in.
The cows settled in the timber trap; the snow was really fallin'
But, one cow didn't settle; she was pacin' and a bawlin'.
The cowboy gae a shiver, and ol' Roaney gave a snort.
They didn't like the looks of things; they might be one calf short.
"Maybe they ain't yet mothered up. Maybe her calf is dead."
The cowboy led Roaney to the comfort of the shed.
"Ninety-nine and a hundred are purty close the same."
The cowboy went to the line shack and thaw his frozen frame.
"I still got hay to feed, an' I dang near froze in half."
But the cowboy kept a wonderin' why she hadn't found her calf.
He swallered down some coffee, got on all his clothes.
The snow had started driftin'; it was stackin' up in rows.
That ol' cow was still a bawlin'; and her bag was getting' tight.
"I better go find that sucker, or I'll be runnin' outa light."
Roaney and the cowboy headed back out to the flats.
That norther was really howlin. It was snowin' dogs and cats.
The mercury was in a free-fall. The sky was darkest gray.
The cowboy wanted supper, and Roaney wanted hay.
After 'least two hours of ridin', they crossed a little draw.
Then the calf that they were lookin' for is just what they then saw.
He was layin in a huddle, shiverin' in the cold,
a scrawny little sorry thing, not more'n five days old.
"After all this frigid ridin' in the storm that I've been bravin',
I find a calf so sorry that he hardly ain't worth savin'."
He grabbed the shiverin' baby, throwed him up on Roanye.
They headed for the line camp, cowboy, calf and pony.
When they finally made it, in a state of shock and trauma,
the cowboy took the little calf and gave him to his mama.
The little feller was sure hungry. He found his mama's bag.
Then, he went to suckin', and his tail began to wag.
Just barely worth his savin', crooked legs and scrawny rear,
but, down the cowboy's frozen cheek, there slipped a freezin' tear.
It was nearly midnight 'fore he got the stock all fed
and cooked and ate his supper and laid his frame to bed.
But, the cowboy thanked the Good Lord that the little calf got found,
and he wasn't dead out on that frozen snowy ground.
Long ago, a Shepherd hunted hills and rocky ground, and he didn't rest or take his ease 'til on last lamb got found. He left ninety-nine, which were safe back in the fold, and there's a reason for this story that once the Savior told.
We can be as foolish as a sheep and lost in our own sin, but there's always One who loves us and wants to bring us in. The Good Shepherd seeks the lost ones from the cradle to the grave and there's no one that too lowly for Jesus Christ to save.
Luke 15:1-7 (The Parable of the Lost Sheep)
"Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." Then Jesus told them this parable: Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighors together and says, "Rejoice with me, I have found my lost sheep." I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not repent.
Joe Kreger is an Oklahoma rancher, poet, and Poet Laureate of Oklahoma. He wrote his first poem in August of l995. This poem is from his book, Still Lookin'. For books or CD's contact the High Plains Journal at 1-800-954-5263. For personal appearances call 1-816-452-3513. His Agent is Rustin Hamilton or email: rustin@hamiltonprod.com
