Road Stories

There is just something unique about the smell around a feedlot. Those heavy, pungent odors rear back and punch you in the face once you step out of your vehicle.

I was at a feedlot in Earth, Texas, photographing a cowboy there. We set up a portrait of him horseback in one of the pens. I tiptoed through the poop patches, carrying my camera and a flash mounted on a tripod.

Tripp Townsend, the manager and owner, recommended that I roll up the windows, otherwise the flies would take up residence. But despite the windows sealed tight, I couldn’t prevent the feedlot smell from creeping in. It burrows into the fabric of your shirt.

I asked Tripp if he gets used to it. He said he does, kind of.

“It always hits me in the evening when I get in the shower,” he says.

Must be because of the stark contrast between Dial and doo doo.

I often have to apologize for carrying so much excess baggage—literally. When traveling on assignment for Western Horseman, I pack heavy. And that makes airline travel cumbersome. I almost always pack two camera bodies, five lenses, two flashes, a reflector, two tripods, battery packs, gaffer tape—it’s quite a load. And that doesn’t count my laptop, reading material, work files, clothes, extra boots, and sometimes spurs. Somehow I cram it all into four bags, making sure my laptop and camera equipment board the plane with me, checking my suitcase and tripod bag.

On small planes, I find myself saying “excuse me” and “sorry” the most often. Boarding a plane from Dallas-Fort Worth to Lexington a year ago was smooth sailing until I found my seat. I had strolled down the skyway, rolling my camera gear behind, with my briefcase slung over my shoulder, my Western Horseman jacket draped on my shoulders, my hat set square on my head, and a cup of coffee in my free hand (not a good idea). My camera bag didn’t fit in the overhead compartment like it usually does, neither did it fit under the seat in front of me. A pile-up of passengers waited in the aisle while I considered my options. Checking in my expensive camera equipment is not an option, as far as I’m concerned. So I momentarily set it down in my seat and tried to get out of everyone’s way.

Now, as I will detail, getting settled into a little plane with big bags, a cowboy hat, and a cup of coffee can be tricky. However, this can be accomplished in 20 simple, yet clumsy, steps.

1. Set the camera bag and coffee in your seat (that coffee cup will balance on top of your bag as long as no one bumps the seat).
2. Cram your briefcase in the overhead (ignore the concerned look from the seated passenger who has already carefully stowed his bag in the same compartment).
3. Smile at passengers standing in the aisle, waiting for you to get the heck out of the way.
4. Grab coffee and sit down in someone else’s seat (remember, your bag is in your seat at the moment).
5. Sip coffee and fumble with cowboy hat.
6. When one wave of passengers gets by, slip into assigned seat and set camera bag in your lap (don’t make eye contact with the stewardess, who by now is giving you that sir-you-can’t-do-that look).
7. Politely ask passenger across the aisle to trade seats with you (due to the plane’s design, your camera bag should fit in the seat in front of him).
8. Stand up, adjust hat (after bumping it on the ceiling).
9. Step out of the way of gracious passenger who’s trading seats with you (don’t forget to thank him).
10. Sip coffee.
11. Set coffee in your new seat and carefully cram you camera bag underneath the seat in front (apologize to the man sitting beside you, who just lost a little leg space).
12. Grab coffee, sit down (again, getting the heck out of everyone’s way).
13. Stand up, set down coffee and remove that hot jacket (apologize to the lady behind you who just got backhanded in the head).
14. Cram jacket in the overhead compartment.
15. Sit down, placing coffee between your legs as you buckle up (apologize to your neighbor for elbowing his arm).
16. Sip coffee.
17. Place hat between your feet on the floor.
18. Unbuckle and dig your cell phone out of your front pocket, turn it off.
19. Sip coffee, rebuckle.
20. Enjoy your flight.

I love saddling up before daybreak and long-trotting into large pastures in which I’ve never been. I never get tired of the cool morning air and warm glow on the eastern horizon. At Bill Smith’s colt branding in July, 33 riders evidently felt the same way. They didn’t mind rolling out of bed at 5:30, or sooner, to saddle up and gather Smith’s broodmare band in West Texas. It certainly doesn’t require 33 cowboys to round up 49 mares and their foals, but a mob of saddle-bound “helpers” filed in behind Smith anyway. They trotted over red dirt and mesquite brush to the north, and in less than two hours they were back, thoroughly surrounding those mare-colt pairs.

I hauled my horse to the event and trotted along, but I had to double-back early in order to set up for photos. Later in the afternoon, after the foals had been branded, most of the mob helped herd the horses back to their pasture. Even with the temperature above 100 degrees, they were glad to help. I followed along, this time setting aside my camera and simply enjoying another ride on my young bay mare.

I kept thinking, “What will the security personnel think,” when, as they inspect my luggage, discover those Wranglers with a mysterious green residue caked to the back pockets. I’m sure they’ll have an idea of what it is when that unmistakeable aroma breaks out of my bag and assaults their nostrils.

I felt kinda bad about it, but there was not time to wash my jeans before my flight from Montana back to Texas. So I crammed my favorite jeans in a trash bag, along with several other soiled items, and zipped up my suitcase.

It all started in the branding pen. I was on Dave Miller’s ranch to take photos and record video. I ended up flanking my fair share of calves. John Welch pointed at a juicy pile of cow dung at our feet and joked, “Wanna just go ahead and sit in that and get it over with?” When you’re rolling around on the ground with frightened calves, poop gets smeared everywhere. That’s just the way it is. I still wouldn’t have figured I’d sit smack in the middle of the largest, stickiest piles in the entire pen while holding one calf’s hind leg.

Rain delayed our progress in the branding pen, so I left the ranch late. My flight was early the next morning, so I only had time to clean off my boots and get a few hours of sleep. I doubt that airport security appreciated the souvenir I packed.