First I just take in the blue, in this case in contrast with the white and green and brown. Then, at least this morning, I think of Maynard Dixon, power poles or no power polls, and thank the pueblos of Santa Ana and San Felipe for preserving the land and view.
My Cowboy 2 after hearing this morning’s coyote kerfuffle with dumb neighborhood dogs. He was quote “living outside” before his rescue by the Best Friends Sanctuary in Utah and then Animal Humane in New Mexico. These days in Placitas, he has no use for thunder, lightning or coyotes. He’s not even too sure about hiking. Been there, done that, he tells me.
Truly a monstrous front page, from the first-name reference to the governor to the juxtaposition of the “Natives Massacred” headline on a Congo story over a photo of Santa Fe kid in a Native headdress. In other news that day, my mother got hit in the head with an airborne Coke bottle in front of Zook’s on the Plaza.
AI helped me get lined out this morning. With my sidekick near, I woke with a cowboy tune in my head.
I couldn’t remember the exact words, only their lyrical meter and sentiment about trusty things by your side. Once at my desk with coffee, I worked through word searches on the internet and, with AI help, identified the music as “My rifle, my pony and me,” sung by Dean Martin, with Ricky Nelson and Walter Brennan accompaniment, in the 1959 John Wayne movie Rio Bravo.
I was glad to identify the tune but the setting was sunset instead of sunrise and I struggled with some of the other lyrics, especially “… with my three good companions, just my rifle, pony and me …”
I also am not a fan of Rio Bravo. But further research, and a dive into AI, revealed the tune I remembered had evolved from a theme in John Wayne movie that I do like, Red River, by the same songwriters.
Here’s Meta AI: “The song “My Rifle, My Pony, and Me” was written by Dimitri Tiomkin and Paul Francis Webster. It was featured in the 1959 movie Rio Bravo, where it was sung by Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson. Tiomkin composed the music, while Webster wrote the lyrics. The melody is based on a tune Tiomkin had previously used in the movie Red River.”
And here are the complete lyrics:
The sun is sinking in the west The cattle go down to the stream The redwing settles in the nest It’s time for a cowboy to dream
Purple light in the canyons That’s where I long to be With my three good companions Just my rifle, pony and me
Gonna hang (gonna hang) my sombrero (my sombrero) On the limb (on the limb) of a tree (of a tree) Comin’ home (comin’ home) sweetheart darlin’ (sweetheart darlin’) Just my rifle, pony and me Just my rifle, my pony and me
(Whippoorwill in the willow Sings a sweet melody Riding to Amarillo) Just my rifle, pony and me No more cows (no more cows) to be ropened (to be ropened) No more strays will I see Round the bend (round the bend) she’ll be waitin’ (she’ll be waitin’) For my rifle, pony and me For my rifle, my pony and me
And what is it with cowboys drivin’ and ridin’ to Amarillo?
Meanwhile, this photo of Cowboy 1 might have worked better for my morning reverie today. I posted it with some morning thoughts five years ago, (click here) “Coffee with Cowboy and O’Keeffe.”
It was kind of a cloudy morning but we’re working it out.
Great to meet Roger Bergmann for breakfast at The Range in Bernalillo today, 50-some years after our Inyo Ecology Center days In California, where we learned the food was better in fire camps and spike camps than our mess hall 10 miles north of Bishop. I didn’t have any trouble recognizing the cheerful, Montana-raised Crew 1 leader, who was on his way to the rodeo in Santa Fe.
Looking at this photo, I also remembered that we were forbidden by our employers, the California Division of Forestry, from wearing beards, long hair and, I think, even mustaches back in 1971-73. We were told they were “fire hazards.”
Maybe yes, maybe no.
And cheers to old friends Chet Baker and Robert Elliott, who Roger said he sees semi-regularly in Bishop, Bob Heberle and Matt Stothart, who remembers that Roger was the first person he met upon arriving at our 80-man Ecology Center barracks in the early 1970s.
Cowboy 2 and I heard a loud clicking sound during lunch. Cowboy turned his head, trying to identify the noise. I looked around the kitchen sink. Then we spotted this big fellow doing his mandible thing on the fence outside.
dreamranch 