"Cow Catchers"

Those pastures rolling out of sight,

And rough with sage and brush,

The wildest cattle hidden there,

And leavin’ in a rush.

And every branch a sticker bore,

Some thorn or thistle bur,

To rip a little skin away,

And injury incur.

Your leggins worn with special care,

To cover what you could,

Never mind you lost some fringe,

No doubt you thought you would.

And when you hit an open space,

You might just take a shot,

To catch the one that got away,

‘Cause he’s been gone a lot.

So dallies down and turn him off,

And neck him to a tree,

Come back later, load him up,

Cow hunters for to be.

And growing dark we head for home,

Glad we got to go,

To do what so few get to do,

A-horseback, don’t you know.

Long pastures of my memory,

Some now paved with street,

Houses built where cattle grazed,

And cowboys used to meet.

But there within a sidewalk crack,

A thistle tries to grow,

Lookin’ for some skin to scratch,

It is the truth I know.

And all that’s left of when we chased,

The bovine wild as deer,

Is sky above and ground beneath,

All they constructed here.

Go on out, go further out,

Away from cars and noise,

And you’ll still find the pastures wild,

And all the horseback boys.

A dodgin’ thorns and pitchin’ loops,

And tryin’ hard to be,

Cattle catchers in the brush,

Just like folks used to see.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.” (Psalm 23:1-2, NAS)

Pastures have always played some part in my life. From childhood I wandered there, worked with hay and cattle, hunted and fished there, and spent many a night beside a campfire. I doubt I can imagine life without those places. The psalmist speaks of a green pasture where the Lord leads him. It’s a place of peace and protection, restoration and guidance. I can identify with those words. if its all asphalt and concrete, we’re missing something. The creation reflects the Creator, and the pastures are filled with His presence.

Lord, lead us into green pastures, in Jesus’ name.

Personal pic. Moving cattle with John Babb on the Cross Y Ranch, Idaho.