"The Herder's Call"

[moremojo]

Hey, gang--

I came across an evocative little poem the other day, in a book called Shooting Cowboys: Photographing Canadian Cowboy Culture, 1875-1965 by Brock Silversides (Calgary: Fifth House, 1997). The poem is called "The Herder's Call", and is attributed to one Edmund O'Connor. I for one couldn't read it without thinking of our Jack, and maybe some of you may feel similarly. Here it is:

Sunshine turned to twilight
Beneath Alberta skies,
Then came clouds of darkness
Too much for naked eyes.

The herder took his blanket
And on the grass 'twas spread,
The cow horse then was staked for night
And Jackson went to bed.

The moon rose in its glory,
But, alas, the early dawn
Told the sad, sad story,
For Jackson now was gone.

The hungry coyotes found him,
While at rest this hero lay,
No thought had he no more to see
The early break of day.

And now the many ranchers
Are often heard to say--
"This prairie seems deserted,
Since they took poor Jack away."

Scott

[vkm91941]

The coyotes attacked and ate him?    that's tragic!  It never occured to me that coyotes would do that.

[Daniel]

If they're hungry enough.

Coyotes are one of those animals for whom human infringement into their natural domain has caused a lot of anxiety, particularly by messing up the natural pecking order or food chain.