Cowboys never have been too particular about where they threw their loop. History tells us that in the past, old-time cowboys have roped nondomesticated beasts such as camels, buffalo, elk, polecats, razorbacks, timber wolves, wild turkeys, antelope, bears and the occasional law enforcement officer – although, I think you’d have to be related to yourself to be so simple-minded as to rope a cop or a bear. (And I’d imagine when a grizzly hit the end of your twine, you wouldn’t want to be tied hard and fast just in case the bear might want to follow the rope back to its source.)<br>
The modern-day cowboy is no different. I’ve actually seen my friends toss their ropes in the direction of an ostrich, goats, dogs, cats and the occasional supplement salesmen.<br>
I feel like such a failure, because the only exotic animal I ever got a loop on was a pig – not a wild pig, but my sister’s 4-H project. Somehow, I managed to get my grass rope in the hog’s mouth and around both front feet.<br>
You should have heard the screeching when I went to take my rope off. The pig made a fair amount of noise too.<br>
A cowboy will tell you that they’re just practicing when they rope wild game, but I think they are showing off. It’s like when Indians used to count coup by touching their enemy. The biggest coup I’ve heard of was pulled off by a Texas cowboy who managed to rope a train.<br>
That’s right, a train; not all cowboy targets wore hair or feathers.
My favorite author, J. Frank Dobie, told of Peckerwood Pete, a Texas lariat marksman who rode the brush country in the 1800s. Pecker-wood heard that the new railroad coming though the territory would have a “cow catcher” on it. Seeking work, Peckerwood Pete asked the engineer on the T & P Railroad if he might apply for the “cow catcher” job.<br>
The fun-loving engineer saw an opportunity for a little excitement and told Peckerwood Pete that a tryout was necessary and, if Pete could rope the train’s smokestack going at full speed, then he might get the job.<br>
With perfect timing, Peckerwood swung a big loop and managed to get it around the train’s smokestack – and then the fun began. Being a Texan, Peckerwood tied hard and fast.<br>
Pete’s shadow was traveling 20 miles behind him when the cinch broke on his saddle. I can only imagine what onlookers said when the train arrived at the next station with a rope around the smokestack, dragging a saddle on the other end.<br>
Texas, where the sound of ropes sings in the air, has always produced great ropers. Any baby born there, boy or girl, has a rope put in its hands instead of a rattle; even before they can walk, they are heading and heeling from the seat of their baby carriage.
I was lucky to travel the great state for several years and, in the process, I learned to be wary of driving up to any ranch house that had a steer head attached to a bale of hay in the front yard. I knew there were kids learning to rope in the vicinity and their marks would not be limited to dogs and chickens.<br>
I shuffled around these places with my feet in constant contact with the ground so the little brush poppers couldn’t forefoot me. I called this walk of mine the “Don’t-Rope-A-Dope Shuffle.”<br>
I remember driving up to one place near Post, Texas, that showed all the signs that some serious junior super-loopers dwelled there. No sooner had I got out of my car than two little boys about the age of five came running out from behind the barn, shaking out their loops and looking for a snubbing post. I started doing my “Don’t-Rope-A-Dope Shuffle,” so both loops landed around my head, knocking off my hat and corking me in the noggin with their hondas.<br>
Just then, their papa yelled, “How many times do I have to tell you kids not to rope people but to just rope the dummy?”<br>
One of the little angels looked up apologetically and replied, “But Daddy, last night you said some dummy was coming out to look at our cattle.”<br>
Once again, the ropes of the cowboys found their target.<br>

Readers with questions or comments for Lee Pitts may write to him in care of this publication.