Maybe something a little different. Hope it’s okay.

Otro de los días viejos tiempos:

There was a segment on George Jones on an episode of Burns’ Country Music that I saw. For me, Jones is linked to a grazing permittee I worked with very early in my career as a Forest Service Range Conservationist. I don’t think I had even graduated from college yet. At that time, under the “Co-op” internship program I was in, you had to take a semester off college and work on the National Forest you were hired by, before returning to complete your degree.

There was a winter grazing allotment on the Kaibab that had a new management plan. It was a relatively small allotment with no division fences, and the new plan called for it to be divided into 4 pastures. I was sent out there to lay out the fence lines. I had a horse, some supplies, a bedroll, and a week to accomplish the job. It happened that the permittee and his hired hand were out there as well for Spring Works: gathering, sorting, castrating, branding and vaccinating. Dave, the rancher/permittee, hauled a camping trailer out to the allotment and invited me to stay in the trailer with him and his ranch hand.

During the day, I rode out from camp and flagged out the fence lines, and would return to the trailer in the evening where we’d make supper, then sit around the table, tell stories, drink whiskey, and listen to George Jones. Dave was a big Jones fan; he had a cassette recorder and a number of his albums. Dave was kind of a melancholy drinker. We’d laugh, we’d talk, we’d get a little drunk, we’d listen and wipe a tear.

By the end of the week, I was done with the fence lines and stayed through Saturday to help work the gathered cattle. There was a set of corrals there where the trailer was parked. We separated calves and mother cows, sent the calves through the calf table set up there for dehorning (this is Arizona, horned cattle), castration, vaccinations, etc. We ran the mother cows through, for deworming and mouthing. Dave’s wife, son and daughter-in-law came out on Saturday and the food markedly improved.

I stayed on that district for 8 years. Dave and I were friends, in hindsight, probably too good a friends. I helped several ranchers with Spring and Fall Works and frankly liked them a lot; Mary and I saw a ranch foreman and his wife socially. I later decided that it was probably better if I kept a bit more distance than I did there in N Arizona, but I would never isolate myself from them, nor would I want to. I got to where I resisted helping work cattle, but I know it’s better to know your permittees, their operation, what kind of managers they were, and most importantly to build trust and mutual respect.

Dave died about 10 years ago (now 15). When I was leaving Williams, Arizona I went and saw him. I said something like, “If I get back this way, I’ll stop and look you up.”
Dave looked me in the eye and said, “You better.”

I never saw him again. I’ll never forget him. Dave, here’s some Jones for ya

Thanks, TMats, I'm sure Dave would be honored you've shared his memory.

I was introduced to the music of George Jones by my Daddy, as I called him in those days.

I we still too young to carry a shotgun, so it was my job to birddog pheasants, rabbits, & squirrels. I'd run up to, then kick a clump to flush game. In the case of squirrels, when we'd get to a treeline, I'd run around the back side of a tree & chase them to the side my Daddy was on.


After a day of hunting, we'd stop at some honky-tonk out in the country where Jones was seemingly always playing on the jukebox.

Daddy would sit at the bar and have a beer while I was required to sit at a table away from the bar. There I enjoyed an RC Cola, a Moonpie, or maybe some redskin peanuts and jerky.

These are some of the best memories I have of my time with the old man. I still get a little maudlin whenever I hear ol' Possum, and will play his music nearly nonstop when I'm up at the cabin. It still triggers these memories to this day, and also triggers a hankerin' for a little bourbon.

I saw George numerous times in his later years after he'd gotten himself past those no-show days. I'm thankful to have had the chance.

Thanks for this trip down memory lane. I needed it.

I tipped a few sips for Dave while listening to his Goerge Jones and reading your story.
It's ok. Your post is fine reading.