Cowboys and Canyonlands of Texas - A Hackberry Farm Nature Photography Workshop field report

In the distance, a cow lowing breaks the silence of the moment.  Soon, the clank of hoofs against wood slides into the ether as a horse repositions himself in the trailer.  The horse knows that his services are needed and is ready to go to work.

In cowboy country, horses are unofficially graded on whether or not they have cow sense.  Cow sense is a characteristic that horses have. It portends how good they’ll work around cattle and how enthusiastic they are about their job.  While I’m no equine expert, I can tell that the horse being unloaded is ready to go.

He’s got cow sense.

As one cowboy unloads, three more head across the pasture in a spirited gate to bring the herd of black baldie and Angus cattle back to where they’ll be fed and their welfare checked.  It’s an authentic scene that plays out every day in cattle country.

Cowboys (or, um, real cowboys) do their work quietly day in and day out. They do it without the drama you see on television shows.  Instead, it’s quiet work fraught with risks (both physical and financial). Still, it’s a toil of the utmost importance:  providing high-quality protein to Americans and beyond by raising the beeves that finds its way through the agribusiness infrastructure and onto your plate.

It’s a big task, but the work goes on without interruption, day in and day out, without interruption.

So, celebrating these people through photographs is a noble pursuit.   For the guests, meeting people of the land and getting to know them is extra special.

Out here in the Texas Midwest, where the population is declining, the business of feeding the nation still goes on.  

That’s the culture we aim to capture in this nature photography workshop.

For the entire week, we crisscrossed the mesquite-treed plains in search of photo subjects. We found them in all the ways where the equine and bovine cultures merge: professional cowgirls, a family teaching their young kids how to work in the saddle, a chuckwagon cook and storyteller extraordinaire, and a family teaching their kids how to rope and ride with the best of them.

It’s a complete week made even more complete by visits to the vast canyonlands of the region.

“I didn’t know Texas even looked like this,” comments one.  It’s a statement I’ve heard before, but it’s amazing to see an area that looks as much like Monument Valley as it does the hardscrabble plains of western Texas.  As the sun rises behind the clouds, we explore the canyons and search for compositions that speak to each guest.

On our way out, we see bison and prairie dogs, but perhaps the height of the morning is the time we spend at the edge of a cotton field.  Fluffy and white for acres and acres, cotton is a staple crop grown at the edge of the Rolling Plains and the Llano Estacado.  It’s a common crop, but it’s an unusual plant for those who’ve never seen it.

So we stop.

All week long, we stop and visit curiosities all around this part of Texas. Often beautiful and often austere, each photo subject provides enough interest to help tell the larger story of the region.

On the last evening of the excursion, we enjoy dinner around the chuckwagon. Invented in the 1860s by pioneering rancher Charles Goodnight, the chuckwagon is the original food truck. It’s made from a freight wagon with a chuck box attached to the back and was originally designed as a mobile commissary to feed hungry cowboys who pushed cattle north from Texas along the great cattle trails.  

As we sit and listen to stories about the great cattle drives, it’s not lost on me that millions of cattle passed near here just over a century ago. While time has passed, the spirit of those drovers and the cattle they pushed still live on these lonely plains.

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