Underneath the cloudless sky, a tall weather-beaten man astride a red roan pauses briefly atop a knoll strewn with sagebrush and yucca. He straightens, shifts his weary body in the saddle and removes his wide-brimmed hat to mop the sweat from his brow. An errant breeze seductively tantalizes and teases his senses before fading away into oblivion. The roan stands quietly, grateful for the respite, tail swishing at a bothersome fly or two but otherwise motionless.
The man stretches again and surveys the landscape. A solitary windmill stands watch over the rolling hills and basins while cows forage for grass and water below. The soothing low of cattle, the gentle rustling of prairie grasses and the melodic call of the meadowlark are music to his ears.
He takes a moment to reflect on how blessed he is to make his living from the land. He feels privileged to be a cowman. The man gathers up the reins again, clucks to his horse and heads home for supper.