A visit in West Texas

In mid-May of 2008 I took my mother to west Texas to visit some family friends on their ranch west of San Angelo. They raise Longhorn cattle on the ranch Robert inherited from his grandfather. As I remember, it's been in his family for over 100 years. I'd been hearing about it for years and had long wanted to photograph the Longhorns. (We Orangebloods from the University of Texas always capitalize the word Longhorn.)

This is west Texas. In the middle distance is our rendezvous point, several buildings collectively referred to as "the bunkhouse", three or four miles past the ranch gate. That was as far as we could prudently go without Kim, Robert's wife, our hostess/guide - for the entire region seems to be criss-crossed with a network of caliche roads for access to natural gas leases. We never would have found their house on our own.

Approaching the bunkhouse I felt I was being watched. The ever-present "Eye in the Sky" here wasn't a traffic helicopter, it was a turkey buzzard just waiting for us to venture out without our guide. I wasn't really concerned, but I did periodically hear Jose Feliciano singing his theme from McKenna's Gold in my ear.

I was certainly not much help to Robert as he went about seeing to his livestock, but I thoroughly enjoyed tagging along like a big ten year old. The bulls were more than a little intimidating - to me, not Robert - so I stuck pretty close to the pickup. Anything that size with horns like that. . . I stayed within an arm's reach of the open door of the cab. I don't move as quickly as I once did. When we looked at my pictures on the laptop that night, I joked that the caption for this one of Concho would refer to my harrowing escape from his imminent charge.

One of the first lessons I learned about photographing Longhorns - or any critters, I suppose - is to take your pictures before you feed them. I got what I think are some good pictures, but most of the early ones show my bovine subjects with their heads down, browsing for feed pellets. Even after I learned that lesson, I found my pictures would be of little use to Kim and Robert because for the auction brochures and catalogs, the only satisfactory pose for one of these animals is side-on, with the near hind leg stretched aft, and the head turned directly towards the camera. This is in order to showcase the important parts: reproductive gear for the bulls, nursing gear for the cows, and the spread and twist of the horns for both - after all, they are LONGHORNS!

I was both surprised and pleased to find Kim and Robert also kept these colorful Spanish Goats. Longhorns or Spanish Goats, everywhere we went the pickup, with its cargo of feed, drew a crowd of critters.

By the time I took this picture, I'd learned the first rule - about shooting before feeding - and decided the other rule - about posing Longhorns - was incompatible with my own rules on situational awareness, maintaining a clear avenue of escape, and leaving the door of the truck open to provide a bolt hole. This shot and the next two were taken an hour or so before sunset. The cows and calves look awfully dapper towards the end of the day. They really are well adapted to this environment.

I really like this shot. The warmth of the late afternoon sun, the detail of the landscape that is her range, her orange color, the perfect symmetry of her horns - with their "Texas twist". . . Hook 'Em!

I don't know who the sire was, but it's obvious that these calves belong to this cow. I suspect that, given time, I'd become more comfortable with these great beasts. I just figure that as slow-moving as I am now, a modicum of discretion is not unwarranted.

This treasure is the main ranch house. Kim's brother, an architect in Albuquerque, designed this wonderful adobe home for them with special attention paid to Robert's 6 foot, 7 inch frame. I look forward to my next visit.