In the weekend section of the Wall Street Journal a month ago, an article covered the regret of the residents of Jackson Hole, Wyoming over a family's decision to sell their 151-acre ranch. The fear being the land was going to be cut up in 35-acre plots, ending the western flavor the ranch lent to the area, training summer visitors to rope and cowboy. An accompanying photograph showed a line of boys in black hats, safe on the ground, winding up to throw fierce loops destined to chip the ears off the plastic steer heads.

I paid more attention to the school than the subdividing. How I wish I'd been enrolled in a formal roping school as a young man instead of a haphazard pasture curriculum. There may have been a roping class in Manila where we thought ropes came from, or maybe a correspondence school centered in the rodeo lands of Prescott, Arizona. I might have qualified as a teacher as long as the course remained in the classroom. I know my maternal grandfather offered free driving lessons as a Model T Ford salesman. He drove like I roped, except he hit bridges instead of calves' backs. Grandpa's lifetime driving record showed more wrecks than many of the country's major speedways. (One of his pupils snubbed his Ford to a stump with a well rope until he mastered the hand brake.)

Ironically, the people protesting in Jackson Hole were the very ones overrunning the countryside. They'd already bought out the hombres who owned cabins on little outfits, grazing pack mules and gentle horses to take hunters into the mountains and guide dudes in the summer. The family offered to sell the 151 acres to the protesters, but if I remember right, they lacked $42 million coming up with the $50 million asking price.

On a bigger scale, it's been mighty sad seeing 40-section outfits cut into four section ranches to be divided again into smaller places. However, I have been in contact with an old pal down in the cow jungle of South Texas, who is building a strong case in favor of cutting up the country. We started in September keeping score on his final gathering of the remnant cattle missed in his aerial roundup.

The following is a log on his progress using different day hands without mentioning names or specific dates:

"I found 3 bulls and 5 cows and 4 calves in the 'Two Section.' The crippled bull dropped out before I reached 'The Night Horse Trap.' Went back in the pickup. Found my helper at 'Division Mill.' Led him over to where the crippled bull hid deep in a thicket. Rushed back for my horse. Intercepted the bull following my cattle's trail, but lost the cowboy again."

Sale day: "Sent new hand to bring in cattle in 40-acre 'Night Horse Trap,' while I gathered the big trap on Brushy Creek. Rounded up my cattle and new cowboy wandering in wrong trap. Penned the herd, whistled to trucker to start loading, and struck a lope to gather 'Night Horse Trap.' Forgot to look back. Left new cowboy somewhere behind in 'Brushy Draw Trap.' Located cattle grazing in the only opening in 'Night Horse.' Had to make second round to bring in crippled bull."

After we studied his results, we have been working on the right size for a modern pasture. Say one man is hunting one bull in a 40-acre plot. Cow jungle humpy bulls take up at least eight linear feet, plus demand an air space of 80 feet square to allow for disposition variances. His horse is going to need nine or 10feet of ground space. Takes about four 330-foot rolls of net wire to enclose 40 acres. Every lap around the trap is 1320 feet. Counting the room the horse and the bull take, one rider should be easy to find on the first try.

As all we better students of spoor learn, the bull is not to going be circling overhead or walking in the cowboy's shadow. So if the hunter rides along gazing up in space or looking down admiring his shadow, the hunted is going to have to find him. Of those two conditions, watching his shadow is the best, as he might see a track, or find an arrowhead to perk up the day.

Taking those dimensions and facing the fall roundup score, cutting up 150 acres in four pieces is not such a tragedy. Vice President Cheney has a home at Jackson Hole. If Mr. Chaney ever gets caught up in Washington, he might save the roping school. At least, he'd know where to find a government loan to raise the 42 million bucks and know better how to hold a fundraiser.

November 29, 2001