So there I was pulling one end of the wire, patching fence. The strand lay stretched tight in the claw of the hammer which I had balanced against the post, bracing it with my leg. I sighted down the wire, peeking under my arm and raised the wire half an inch–perfect. I took the staple from between my lips and set it against the post just behind the barb and reached for my pounding hammer, which lay exactly three inches beyond my grasp. Attempting to grab it I imitated a contortionist trying to bite off his toenail, all to no avail.

I turned to my assistant–Are You Kidding! I had no assistant. Just another case of one man doin' a two man job.

You run the cow down the alley nearly into the squeeze chute, manage to cram a piece of pipe behind her, run around the chute, open the head gate wide to entice her to come forward, close the tailgate, keeping one hand on the head lever you try and kick her through the bars as she sulls up and drops to all fours. I turn to my assistant–

You've got both corner posts of the south side of your corral set and tamped. You stretch your line, dig a hole equal distance between them and stick in the post. You prop it up with the shovel and cottonwood limb then walk back behind the first post for a sighting too short and leaning to the west. You return to the offending post, kick in some dirt, carefully readjust the shovel and limb props, then return for the second of what turns out to be 300 trips back and forth before you complete the job. By yourself.

Two man jobs crop up often, especially when you're alone:

-Hanging a 4 x 8 sheet of floppy paneling to a wall.

-Leveling a cross beam between two uprights eight feet off the ground.

-Peeling your rope off a steer's head or foot in the middle of a pen.

-Or buying every other round at the tavern.

But to our credit we get it done, and by ourselves if we have to.

When I'm asked what my definition of a cowboy is, I reply “Someone who can replace a uterine prolapse in a range cow in the middle of a three section pasture with nothing but a rope and a horse.”

We who work the land are that wonderful combination of cleverness, belligerence and immunity to pain.