Contrary to Hollywood,
real cowboy life was less rawhide and more
a million ways to die of dysentery in the desert. The life of a cowboy in
the 1800's was a full plate of hard work,
danger, and monotony, with a heaping helping of
dust, snakes, bugs, and beans on the side. Today we're exploring what
it was really like to be a cowboy in the Wild West. But before we do, partner,
we reckon you mosey on over, subscribe to weird history,
turn on notifications, and leave a comment on topics
you'd like to hear about. Now let's get a move
on with the old west. Yeehaw. Cowboys are called cowboys, as
opposed to, say, horse boys, for a good reason. Whether they're
on a ranch or out on the uncompromising
hell of the Wild West, they've got cattle on the
brain morning, noon, and night. Considering the
variety of nonsense that makes cowboys so
entertaining to us, it pays to bear in mind that
they're doing all this roping and wrestling on about six
hours of sleep at best. That might actually sound like a
dream to more than a few of us, but then we don't have to deal
with the possibility of being eaten by coyotes, bitten
by poisonous snakes, robbed by bandits, or
slaughtered by Apache war parties, or worse still,
taking alive for torture. In view of all that,
cowboys generally slept in shifts of
two to four hours, catching whatever rest their
humble lice ridden bed rolls or crumb incubators
could afford. Dirt was everywhere. We already know these cow
pokes aren't big on hygiene. Those bed rolls were not
used just on the trail but on the ranch, but defer
judgment for a minute. We've got guys and gals
in the present splashing three seconds of tap water over
their hands in public restrooms because washing
them takes too long. Imagine how tough
it would have been to convince a bunch of surly
dudes with leather skin to take time out of their six
hours of not on a horse time that they get each day to
change their underwear, comb their hair,
wash their armpits, and air out those bed rolls. That isn't to say that cowboys
were allergic to cleanliness. One of the things a
traveling cattle wrangler had to look forward to
was the nice hot bath he was going to sink into
when he reached the next town. Cowboying is a dirty, dirty job. The boys in the back
rode in a perpetual cloud of dust kicked up by the herd. The boys up front were
marginally cleaner. But the uncompromising,
un-air conditioned hellscape that makes up so
much of the American West, the battle of man versus
dirt is a losing one for man. This holds true even
on the homestead, where they at least had bunk houses. Mind you, the cowboyest
cowboys didn't pussyfoot around with that fiddle faddle. They slept under the stars. The best part of
writing cowboy lines is the nigh endless menu
of colorful metaphors at your disposal. The not so secret code
of the cow puncher gives us a front row seat
for the everyday doings of those dudes. It's full of task
specific phrases, regional words borrowed
from the Vacaro tradition in nearby Native American
nations, and of course, lots and lots of expletives. For instance, a cowboy or bull
nurse under gastric distress, might exclaim on his
way to the latrine, I'm fixing to get a new
bean master, by gum, I got the blam jam
back door trots again. A conversation between two
cowboys might go like this, fetch me some of
that joy juice, Ed. I'll fetch you a punch
in the nose, Ted. Go boil your shirt. I'm too dragged out to
mind your John tonight. Some of these are so bizarre,
they warrant a triple take. A Bible bump, for
instance, was a cyst on the back of the hand
or wrist that old codgers believe could be
treated by thumping it really hard with a heavy book. Lacking Harry Potter,
most folks so inclined reached for the word and
commenced to whacking. Many a granite faced
buckaroo, as gray screens, big and small in the iconic
ensemble of equal parts hide, wool, and grit. And yes, of course, they
had sweet cowboy names for every piece of it. First things first,
cowboys are clicky. Unless you want to be taken
for a downeast tenderfoot, don't wear anything that
looks like it might be new. Start with blue jeans
or California trousers and the most tenacious
shirt you can find. You're going to be
wearing it every day and baths will be
catch as catch can. Next, you've got your
bat wings, chaps, although technically
chances are you're a Mexican or Spanish
cattle herder if you do. Worn over your pants,
chaps protect your legs from the brush, scouring
winds, and rattlesnakes that make prairie life so
much fun for the nobody. A bandanna around your
neck can be pulled up over your blow holes when
the dust situation gets out of control. Your Stetson hat had
better be a big one if you want to break from the
sun, the bigger the better. If all else fails,
go with a sombrero, no one will laugh at you. Not if they felt the oil
on their skin cooking like a baked potato
under the desert sun. Finally, you've
got your justice, the tough knee high
leather boots that form the last line of
defense against everything that wants to kill you. More thought goes
into cowboy boots than you might expect if
you got introduced to them at a hayride or a steakhouse. Narrow toes and
heels help your foot to fit securely in a
stirrup but still allow for enough freedom of
movement to dismount. If you want to be able to prod
your horse along or come off super menacing when you
meet new people, just at a shiny pair of hell rousers. These days we can enjoy a
cornucopia of Western comedies. Cowboys did some mighty
silly things in modern eyes. But way back then, it was an
undeniably bad ass profession. Contemporaries heralded their
courage, physical alertness, ability to endure exposure
and fatigue, horsemanship, and skill in the
use of the Lariat. And so do we. Cowboys had to be pretty beefy
to take on tasks like breaking horses, roping cattle, and
riding for hours on end through great danger
and greater discomfort. But they also had to be clever. The utter balls necessary
to chase a stampeding herd or brave some of America's
douchiest elements on a regular basis,
had to be supplemented by the knowledge required
to make quick decisions, care for the cattle,
and keep one's head in the face of disaster. They also had to be able to
understand cow psychology. Years of experience
taught a cowboy what a cow might
react to and how, aiding him in the various
butt puckering emergencies that come with the job, like
river crossings and landslides. There's no room for carelessness
or laziness on the trail. Refer to your cinematic
trivia, and you'll recall that the crime for
stealing a horse in the Wild West was death by hanging. At first glance,
the death penalty might seem harsh and
a wee taste crazy punishment for
grand theft equine. But horses were far
more important to them than cars are to us. Losing your horse could
mean losing your livelihood, and with it, your life. Cowboys depended on
their faithful steeds to travel, guard, protect,
and haul on cattle drives. The horse had to be able to
handle long hours with riders on their backs over difficult
terrain in ungodly heat. And the riders cared for them
with surprising tenderness, developing bonds that unified
steed and rider with centaur like cohesion. The best horse's
made up the remuda, a collection of even
tempered equines thought to understand cows
as well as the riders could. Cowboys could make
anywhere from $25 to $40 a month, that's $500 to
$800 by today's money, which was livable
scratch for single men without families to
support or rent to pay. They'd spend their earnings
on good times, good company, and good stuff when
they got to town. Although flashy purchases
would've been a social suicide. Conscientious cowpokes
saved their wages so they could buy land
and cattle of their own. They were also
surprisingly fair. On the ranch and on the road,
cowboys made the same wage regardless of ethnic
or racial background. And that was especially good
because the American cowboy owes his origin to Mexican and
Spanish rancher traditions. During the 1700's,
vacaros, derived from vaca, the
Spanish word for cow, were hired by Spanish
ranchers to work the land and tend to their cattle. Vacaros were native Mexicans
who had expertise in roping, herding, riding. The full rawhide
bad ass reservation. By the 1800's, waves
of European immigrants had made their
way west and began to work as cowboys as well. No longer a strictly
Mexican vocation, there was a lot of diversity
among cowboy groups. African-Americans,
Native Americans, and settlers from
all around Europe worked with vacaros,
often picking up the skills they needed to thrive
and survive along the way. In this profession,
just surviving without getting caught
grabbing your saddle horn was an indication that you
had a knack for this gig. The remoteness of cowboy
life promoted a sense of egalitarianism
that transcended ethnic and racial differences. After all, all men are fair
game for sunstroke, cholera, and snake bites. And if you can
survive those, you've earned your stripes in
accordance with the man code. It took eight to 12 cowboys
to move 3,000 head of cattle. Groups of young men traveled
great distances together, led by a trail boss, an
experienced cow puncher who decided how many miles the
drive would tackle in a day and where they camped at night. A second in command, or segundo,
a cook, and several wranglers rounded out the group. Contrary to what Hollywood
would have us believe, there was very little
wagon circling going on. Groups were an unappealing
target for Native American War parties. Stragglers on the
other hand, were so vulnerable to
attacks and the elements that it was all but
suicide to go it alone. And by the same
token, lone cowboys evoke fear and
suspicion when they were spotted out on the plain. There was and is no telling
what crazy cowboys might do. And crazy is the
very best descriptor for anyone wandering the
desert without backup. The myth of the cowboy and his
trusty pair of six shooters comes to us direct
from Hollywood. But the rest of his
arsenal does not. There were hundreds
of kinds of guns used by cowboys during their heyday. Most men favored a short
sidearm and a longer rifle, a good combination for
almost any occasion. Now cowboys did typically
go about heeled, armed, but those guns were meant, not
for confrontations or quarrels, but for protection. You might have to fend
off wolves and coyotes, hostile natives, or
potential thieves. But guns were primarily used to
stop a cowboys worst nightmare from unfolding, a stampede. A stampede spelled
ultimate disaster. And cowboys did everything
they could to avoid it. Any one of a
million things could spook the herd, a pistol shot,
a storm, a snake, a robust fart. But once a stampede got going,
it was up to the cowboys to ride to the front of the
Herd and bring it under control. After the cowboys
ran to their horses and hopefully avoided
getting trampled on the way, they had to navigate
thousands of pounds of beef coming straight at them. As cowboys moved
alongside the herd, they ran the risk of falling
or being straight up knocked off their horses,
either of which could mean a swift
but painful death. The horse itself
could be brought under by the herd, something
that usually resulted in both horse and rider being
mangled to sausage meat, as was the case for one
Idahoian caballero in 1889. Cowpoke, Teddy Blue
recalled a stampede in 1876 wherein a man and his
horse were killed. The horses ribs were
scraped bare of hide. And all the rest of
the horse and man was mashed into the ground
as flat as a pancake. Thanks to the ever present
threat of dysentery, cholera, and other bullshit
diseases we managed to get ahead of in
the intervening years, and without refrigerators or
other products of modern day sorcery, there wasn't much
variety in a cowboy's diet. Chuck wagons accompany
cattle drives and cooks. Legendarily grumpy
but beloved companions served staple foods like
beef, bacon, beans, bread, and coffee. Cowboys typically ate twice
a day, once in the morning and again in the evening. Most cowboys weren't gluttonous,
eating enough to get full but not overindulging for
fear of an upset stomach. Not fun on horseback
or running out of provisions on a long drive. Cowboys rose with the
sun, so they weren't prone to staying up late. But that doesn't mean they
didn't love a good time. They spent their evening hours
telling stories and socializing with their co-workers
around a campfire. They played fiddles
or harmonicas, told jokes, mostly
blue, anything to decompress after a long
hot dusty day in the saddle. When they were on watch,
cowboys talk to the cattle like Disney princesses, telling
them stories or soothing them with songs. Songs were made up on the spot
or handed down from cowboy to cowboy, usually
perpetuating a tall tale or expounding on some
aspect of that cowboy life. A cowboy who could
sing was expected to. Anything to ward off
boredom before grabbing those three hours of
sleep before the next leg of the trip. So would you want to be a
cowboy in the Wild West? Let us know in our
comments below. And while you're at it, check
out some of these other videos from our weird history. [MUSIC PLAYING]
That would be one hell of a job.