Pride of Place: A Contemporary Anthology of Texas Nature Writing

5. Barbara “Barney” Nelson, “That One-Eyed Hereford Muley” from The Wild and the Domestic

69 Chapter 5 Barbara “Barney” Nelson That One-Eyed Hereford Muley Barbara “Barney” Nelson has published six books, the most recent is God’s Country or Devil’s Playground: The Best Nature Writing from the Big Bend of Texas. In addition, her scholarly essays appear in three recent collections about Henry David Thoreau, Mary Austin, and Edward Abbey. She has also published numerous popular press essays, photographs, and poetry— the most recent is“My First Daughter was anAntelope”in Heart Shots:Women Write About Hunting (edited by Mary Stange, Stackpole, 2003). Nelson is an associate professor of English at Sul Ross State University in Alpine. Nelson’s work mixes the rural, agricultural voice with nature writing. “I am interested in exploring my personal ecology. I live from deer; this voice has been fed from deer. I appreciate the fact that I am made out of the animal I love.” — Richard Nelson I was sitting in a boring literature class one day, a shiny-faced, idealistic undergraduate, thinking about boys—only I had started calling them men. I was an Animal Science major, studying to become a ranch manager, or a cowboy’s wife, whichever came first. 70 My college sat on the side of a mountain, as most colleges do so that college professors can look down upon the town from a lofty perch. So, I was watching buzzards out the classroom window, almost at eye level. The professor was asking us to decide whether Edward Abbey’s narrative voice should be classified as homodiegetic or autodiegetic—yawn. Thebuzzardswereputtingmetosleep.Buzzardsdriftsoaimlesslyand effortlessly on thermals, especially in the hot rimrocked desert country of West Texas. But just as my eyelids were drooping, the big black birds seemed suddenly to change gears. Instead of drifting, they began to circle with more of a purpose. Is a cow dead down there on main street? I wondered if they had put to sleep the old cowboy, Nicasio Ramirez, who always sat on the corner in the sun. As the circle tightened, more and more buzzards appeared out of nowhere. First ten, then twenty, then I was watching 100, then 1000 buzzards circle right outside my classroom window. It was a once in a lifetime sight! I raised my hand. “Sir!” I stammered excitedly,“The buzzards are gathering to fly south right outside the window! There are thousands of them!” The professor frowned, told me to keep my mind in class and went on about Abbey. I changed my major to English that day. The professor probably thought his lecture had inspired me, and it did. I decided right there in that classroom, as the buzzards broke their circle and headed south, that I should be teaching Abbey. Oneof myfavoriteimages,whichappearsoverandoverinEdAbbey’s books, is a cowboy, riding along, spending his life and imagination looking at a shit-encrusted, fly-clouded, jouncing cow’s butt. Chuckle. Barbara “Barney” Nelson 71 Western movies have always left the cowshit and horseshit out, ever notice that? Shit just doesn’t fit into the Western myth. Buffalo chips might be useful as fuel, but not cow chips—well, maybe in India, but not in the American West. Anyone who doesn’t believe in cowshit would not want to brand Brammer calves—ever—even with the toe of their boot over the spout. They wouldn’t want to be hit by a cow tail when the yuccas are blooming, wouldn’t want to shove an arm up a heifer’s cervix to pull a calf, wouldn’t want to climb into crowding chutes when spring grass is green, wouldn’t like “mud” without rain, scours, flat rocks, scared wild cows—yup, real cows do shit, and I’ve spent a lot of years staring at their Southern ends. My imagination is probably ruined. As a matter of fact, one of my fondest memories and best stories involves a hot, sleepy afternoon moving bulls, the world’s slowest, most boring job. Bobbing in my saddle after a big dinner, I suddenly woke up to realize that the biggest bull had switched his tail over one of my bridle reins and was now clamped down hard. My horse, of course, wanted air—now.Luckily,being in Texas,I was using split leather reins instead of a looped McCarty or rawhide reins and romal, so I quickly dropped the captured rein and let the wreck work itself out.When everything...