Ol' Sunup

 

Ol' Sunup will be my pard through thick or thin,

And I know as a race horse he may never win,

But he's got a great big heart and his manner is bold,

And he's good for a buck or two if the weather is cold.

Yes, he's throwed me hard and stepped on my knee,

But we covered a few thousand miles that horse an' me,

So I tell him I love him and how pretty he is

While he nickers softly for those carrots of his.

Oh, I know he'll jig an' spin and won't pay me no heed

Because if we ride in a group he's jus got to be in the lead,

But every once in while when we're alone on our canyon trail,

He does all I ask of him and we've got the world by the tail.

Now I'm gettin' old and fat and I surely must buckle his knees

But give him a straight away an' he can still split the breeze.

I swear that cayuse is still a thousand pounds of dynamite

An' even after all these years with me it's still love at first sight.

© Jerry England 1997

Memories of Ol' Montana

 

I went for a visit to the family homestead about 1950.

Mom introduced me to ol’ Montana, it sure was nifty.

They had horses and cows and I met Uncle Lon there.

it's my memories of that trip that I’d like to share.

You see my Mom came from a hearty family branch,

That made their living on a sure enough stump ranch.

They hunted elk, logged timber, an’ raised a few cows,

Had a garden too, whatever put food in their mouths.

Lon had nearly a section of land covered with Lodgepole pine,

17 acres was pasture created removing one stump at a time.

An’ living 30 miles from Kalispell gave them room to roam.

To this very day I think of that ol’ ranch as my second home.

Uncle Lon put me on a horse when I was just seven years old

Said he was mine an’ he’d do what he was told.

The truth is he belonged to my aunt, Brownie was his name, 

But he was my first horse to ride, and I loved him all the same.

I was from the city, but with me Aunt Olive knew what to do, 

She gave me her wide-brimmed hat and cowboy boots too.

For the next several days ol’ Brownie an’ me grew to be pals,

We explored every inch of that pasture an’ herded some cows

I vowed I’d be a cowboy an’ move to Montana when I’m grown,

Now a lota years have passed but someday to Montana I’m goin’.

An’ thanks to Uncle Lon I’ve still got a little horse for a best friend.

Her name is Kasidy an’ we’re gonna ride in Montana before our end.

© 1996, Jerry England 

The Anomaly

Sunup in Mormon Canyon 1996.

Now ol' Sun Up holds his head up high,

Pretty little golden horse wants to be on the fly.

Ol’ long tapaderos swingin' from my Visalia tree,

Braided rawhide hackamore an’ a horse-hair mecate.

The Old Man's best display must surely be break of day.

When through oak leaves shines Sun's first golden ray,

And out on a limb a Steller's jay is ah-squawkin'

While cowboys sit around a camp fire ah-talkin'.

We're listenin' to the call of those valley quail,

Ridin' up that blue shadowed canyon trail.

Cottonwoods and sycamores, and a live oak tree,

Tall green grass and a babblin' brook beside me.

We're rockin' to the rhythm of a creakin' saddle,

Just gatherin' up them white-faced cattle.

Coyote slinkin' through the brush with his head hung low,

An’ a Redtailed hawk soarin' high above the valley below.

There's a bobcat in the willows ah-starin' at me

And a big old Mountain Lion we'll never see,

But my little pack horse Star is followin' behind,

And like old Sun Up and me, he's the happy kind.

While grazin' up on that ridge beyond

Is a mule deer doe and her little fawn.

An’ you'll see plenty of sign from brother raccoon

During what the ol' Indian calls berries ripe moon.

Old oak tree with limbs so gnarled and bold,

Please tell me a tale about vaqueros of old,

Of a time when the golden bear still roamed free

And Sun Up, Star and me weren't an anomaly.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'. 

Joyce and Star 1997

Where’d you get those wooly chaps?

 

A side job, according to google, is also informally called a side hustle or side gig, it’s an additional job that a person takes in addition to their primary job in order to supplement their income, or in my case to support my addiction to collecting antiques.

As a young man I worked briefly as a shipwright in the Long Beach Naval Shipyard. It was there I met Mike, an elderly Italian immigrant, who had worked in large wood shops his entire life. Mike owned an impressive tool chest filled with ‘soon-to-be-antique’ tools he had crafted himself.

I was fascinated with his story and his tools. He sparked my curiosity about antique tools and set off a decade of collecting. 

My exposure to a huge variety of antiques and collectibles found at antique shows and swap meets eventually led me to collecting ‘sporting collectibles’ (hunting, fishing, canoeing, etc), and finally, in the 1980s, Old West antiques, cowboy collectibles, and horse trappings.

When the weekend arrived I switched hats from home builder to antique dealer. I had a route that included attending all major antique shows in the LA area as well as several large swap meets like those at Long Beach, Pasadena, and the Rose Bowl. I especially like the Rose Bowl because for an additional fee you could pay a little more and get in early, while dealers were still unloading their treasures.

This tale is about one early Sunday morning — late in my career — at the Rose Bowl, where with flashlight in hand, I walked from row to row asking dealers, “Do you have any Cowboy Antiques?” This particular morning I was lucky and a voice rang out from the back of an old van, “Yup, I gotta old pair of chaps.” 

I walked over and waited while the old gent rummaged through his van and eventually produced a pair of wooly chaps.

Generally speaking wooly chaps are usually found in northern climates from places like Idaho, Wyoming and Montana. They are made from Angora goat skins and provide warmth as well as protection from brush for a rider.

This particular pair looked brand new until you discovered a flap of goat skin pulled away from the leather backing on the leg. Other than that they were unremarkable — no makers cartouche or stamped or carved leatherwork on the belt — just plain ol’ wooly chaps. I figured I could do some repair work, and turn a profit if they were priced right.

So, I asks the ol’ fellow what he’d take for ‘em? He said 80 bucks, so I peeled out four twenties faster than you can blink. Good well-marked woolies were selling in the area of $1000, and plain ones like these should bring at least $600 after some repairs were made.

It was a good start to my morning of collecting.

As luck would have it a couple rows later another gent replies to my, “Do you have any Cowboy Antiques.?” “I have some old belt buckles.” Sure enough, he had some dandies. They were all sterling silver one-inch ranger buckle sets, 1 marked FM Sterns, 1 marked Visalia, 1 marked Keystone Brothers, and — wait for it — 1 marked Bohlin. These were all ‘primo,’ and I expected would cost an arm and a leg, so you coulda knocked me over when he says $65 each. Again I peels off the green and gets him paid before he changes his mind.

I left his table and noted he had mostly china and glass, so lucky for me cowboy stuff wasn’t his area of expertise. I figured those four buckle sets would fetch me between $800 and $1000 at the right antique show.

I was pretty happy with my morning’s work so far. I’d spent $340 and had at least $1400 worth of collectibles to sell. “Hey Jerry,” a voice rand out from behind me. When I turned around I recognized another cowboy antique dealer who said, “Where’d you get those wooly chaps? He continued, “They’re really swell, I sure wish I’d found them.” 

“Well, says I, tell you what I’ll do, I’ll let you have them for $350, cause they do need some repair.” He paid me off a walked away with a smile on his face.

Now, You gotta know I’m pretty pleased with myself as I plowed through the rest of the swap meet. Then, as I’m about to leave through the rear gate, I ran into another cowboy antique dealer and stopped at his display to see what goodies he had for sale. We had a nice visit. I told him about the silver buckles, and he said I’d be happy to own one like the Mexican buckle you’re wearin’. 

“What’ll you give me for it I asked?” “How’s $100 sound,” he replied. “Done, says I.”

Now, the truth is this story is really rare and not the norm, but buyin’, sellin’ and tradin’ antiques is great fun and always an adventure.

Oh, by the way… the dealer who bought my wooly chaps sold ‘em for $8oo a few months later. And, the Bohlin buckle alone fetched over $400.

Happy Trails!

NOSTALGIA AND RIDING DEVIL'S CANYON, CHATSWORTH

 AI Overview about “Nostalgia”…

“Nostalgia is a poor substitute for living fully in the present; while it can evoke positive emotions about the past, dwelling too much on it can hinder engagement with current experiences and opportunities.” 

Well, I can tell you this about AI, it needs to be taken with a grain of salt.

AI Overview about “taken with a grain of salt”…

To take something with a "grain of salt" or "pinch of salt" is an English idiom that suggests to view something, specifically claims that may be misleading or unverified, with skepticism or not to interpret something literally.

EXACTLY!

When you're 82 and have spent much of the past thirty years riding a horse in the foothills of the Santa Susanas, nostalgia is just the thing to brighten up your day.

I've had some absolutely thrilling adventures riding on some extraordinary canyon trails on some pretty fantastic ponies.

So today I decided to google “Devil's Canyon, Chatsworth,” and found a couple of pretty nice photos that I never had the time to shoot in years past.

I’ve written about my daily rides on the Mormon Canyon Trail, which is pretty much what you’ll also encounter in other local Chatsworth canyons…

https://a-drifting-cowboy.blogspot.com/2011/12/cowboy-culture-mormon-canyon-trail.html

2004, Boothill in a remote canyon north of Chatsworth. 
Caretaker Joe Mendoza. If you find this spot
Watch out for bees. 

Also, to put you in the right frame of mind, SEE: Cowboy Wisdom -- Avoid Bees…

https://a-drifting-cowboy.blogspot.com/2013/01/cowboy-wisdom-avoid-bees.html

Wish I could have found more photos, but the following poem will give you the idea...

The Anomaly

Now ol' Sun Up holds his head up high,

Pretty little golden horse wants to be on the fly.

Old long tapaderos swingin' from my Visalia tree,

Braided rawhide hackamore with a horse-hair mecate.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

The Old Man's best display must surely be the break of day

When through oak leaves shines Sun's first golden ray,

And out on a limb a Steller's jay is a-squawkin'

While cowboys sit around a camp fire a-talkin'.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

We're listenin' to the call of those valley quail,

Ridin' up that blue shadowed canyon trail.

Cottonwoods and sycamores, and a live oak tree,

Tall green grass and a babblin' brook beside me.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

We're rockin' to the rhythm of a creakin' saddle,

Just gatherin' up them white-faced cattle.

Coyote slinkin' through the brush with his head hung low,

Redtail hawk soarin' high above the valley below.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

There's a bobcat in the willows a-starin' at me

And a big old Mountain Lion we'll never see,

But my little pack horse Star is followin' behind,

And like old Sun Up and me, he's the happy kind.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

While grazin' up on that ridge beyond

Is a mule deer doe and her little fawn

And you'll see plenty of sign from brother raccoon

During what the ol' Indian calls berries ripe moon

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

Old oak tree with limbs so gnarled and bold,

Please tell me a tale about the vaqueros of old,

Of a time when the golden bear still roamed free

And Sun Up and me weren't an anomaly.

Just ridin' in that California sunshine,

Just ridin' that ol' palomino pal o' mine,

Rockin', Rollin', Ridin'.

© Jerry England 1997

If you happen to find your way there on a horse… be sure to bring a lunch with you.

Happy Trails!