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As the fingers of autumn touch the view
And everything near at hand
Reaks of splendid grandeur, a stately repose
Floods across the bounteous land.
Twas right at this time of crimson glow,
The time for the round-up came.
Dad asked for the help of one of his friends,
And from me he asked the same
They just considered this one more task
That simple had to be done,
But to me,(provided no trouble arose)
The job was more like fun.
We got up and started early that morn,
Father and I and his friend.
We needed to reach the Deer Creek farm
fore the matter at hand we could tend.
Arriving we saddled and bridled our studs
And laid out a sort of a plan.
Each picked his corner and pushed the cows to
The lower, more flat, center land.
I chose scrub oaks at the top of the hill
Whose beauty was far unsurpassed,
But as I grew closer, it suddenly dawned
"Mine's a more difficult task."
For it would be hard through the brush and the oak
The cows laying down to see,
But I'm sure when my horse, the silence breaks,
Being startled, the cows shall see me.
I came face to face with a cow and a steer
In the very first gully I neared.
I gave them a push toward the land we d agreed,
Yet they'd need some more pushing I feared.
But they had crossed now, from my private domain
To dad's side of the gigantic field.
So I turned John around, (he's the horse I was on)
And we started to climb up the hill.
The going was rough, but Johnny was tough,
And soon at the foot of the pines,
We stopped a short spell, to catch the breath lost
Reaching this upper fence line.
I looked up at the sky---robin egg blue.
White mists near the earth did lurk,
And the chariot of fire, slowly crossed beautifully
The steeds of Apollo at work.
The air was so crisp, yet sweet and so fresh,
I breathed deeply as we started on.
A squirrel did scamper as we passed him by.
Some bluebirds favored us with a song.
The squeak of the saddle and rhythm of hooves
Being placed on the rocks with care,
Sent bobbling the Snowshoe with its pure white tail
Typical of a mountain hare.
But strangest of all the sights I did see
Was the remains of a poor lowly deer
Who had caught her hind leg in the top strand of wire
While jumping the fence, I fear.
It seemed awful cruel since "Ma" nature's wand
Can change color of valleys and hills,
That she found not the time to keep this poor deer
From suffering hunger and chills.
So there she lay doomed to death
No one aware of her plight,
Unable to free her securely caught leg
And at length giving up the fight.
Yet, I suppose she had beauty in death
How else could she find such a goal
As to give up her life in the home she loved best
In the blanketed layer of snow.
No longer has she to face the fear
The hunting season brings
Of seeing her fawns or herself being shot
By those humans metal things.
Well, on we rode around the line
To the end of my assigned square,
Then descended to from whence we came.
And I met my father there.
Together we pushed our growing herd
Through the gate of the northern end,
And locking the gate behind us we went
Further on to join up with the friend.
In full force now, the corral was filled.
We soon were homeward bound.
The friend still claimed it very hard work,
But enjoyment was what I found.