Have you ever wondered what a real cowboy looks like? When I was a kid, I would’ve said he is short, stocky, wears a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, has bowlegs, eyes black as coal, and rides a horse. He looks like Uncle Sid!
Uncle Sid was the great uncle I knew best. If we went to Montana at rodeo time, we were almost guaranteed to see Uncle Sid. He tried to scare all the kids by making funny faces and wiggling his ears while keeping a stoic look in his Brannin eyes. You could see sunlight streaming through his legs as he walked down the street. Yep, he was bowlegged. How could he not be? He grew up on the back of a horse and rode in his first rodeo at the age of 14. Uncle Sid wasn’t very tall. He reminded me of one of the seven dwarves. When he traveled to Montana from Washington, he often carried his saddle with him. He must’ve been quite a sight loading his saddle in the belly of the Greyhound Bus before climbing into his seat.
Uncle Sid standing on horse
Uncle Sid was a horse whisperer. He had a horse named Jughead. Jughead did anything Uncle Sid told him. If he said, “Stick out your tongue, Jughead,” that’s what the horse did. Jughead even counted on command. My sister and I had the chance to stay with Uncle Sid for a few days the year we made a three-month trip across the country. He took us horseback riding in the Olympic Mountains. He would see a mule in a field and call it a “jass-ack,” and he’d say things were “bass-ackwards.” As we passed his neighbors’ ranches, they waved or called him over to give a diagnosis and treatment for sick livestock. He was the general vet for the area ranchers. He had a very impressive collection of saddles of almost every kind in his barn. Cradles held the restored, oiled and polished saddles.
Uncle Sid & Jughead sticking out his tongue
Uncle Sid took us on a ride in his truck. He drove about like he rode one of the bucking broncs in the rodeos. We had to stop and care for some cattle for one of his friends who was away. Some of the cattle had escaped from the fence. We rounded them up, closed the gate and rode on to Olympic National Park. There were signs, “No Dogs Allowed.” We jumped out of the truck along with Chuley, the dog. There were snowbanks that had not yet melted even though it was mid-summer. We walked through the snow to the trail below. A Park Ranger saw us and hollered at Uncle Sid. “Dogs are not allowed on the trail.” Uncle Sid, black eyes straight ahead, just kept walking like he didn’t hear the ranger. A bit further, the ranger called out again. We said, “Uncle Sid, the ranger said no dogs allowed.” He said, “I heard him.” I guess his pretense of ignorance worked. We didn’t get thrown out of the park. If you couldn’t guess, Uncle Sid was a practical joker. He was always up to some kind of mischief.
We left Washington a few days later to make it to the Big Timber rodeo in time. Uncle Sid rode with us instead of taking the bus. We had a great trip! Being with Uncle Sid was always an adventure!
