THE VALUE OF FREEDOM FOR THIS MEMORIAL DAY

     In the late 1990's I broke away from everyone and everything I knew to follow a life long dream to work as a real working cowboy out west. Many times I camped out with a herd of cows or tourist on a horseback vacation. When I was helping to guide guests on a six day horse trip I would have many duties before and after the day's ride. Some days would require eighteen hours of work even though the daily ride was only seven hours. I soon learned that the guests were on vacation but I was not. The wranglers have to get up about an hour before the guests to saddle the horses, fix breakfast and breakdown the camp. At the end of the ride for that day our riders would walk out their kinks and roll out their bedroll. Some would venture out a short way to take great photos of the marvelous wilderness in which they were riding. On the other hand, we unsaddled the horses, fed and watered them and tied them to the picket line. Then the work began with building a campfire, setting up the cook stove, preparing dinner and feeding the guests. After they were all served then we could sit down with them and eat our  thirty minute dinner. After we ate, we would get up and check on the horses, put food away, wash dishes, and prep food in the cooler for breakfast, then, roll out our bedrolls.
     I was always concerned about the horses health so I was selected,  by the trail boss,  to sit around the campfire with the guests and entertain them until  they bedded down. While doing this, I would excuse myself every half hour and check on one or two horses that I had noticed with sore withers or cinch sores. I would rub some suave on the bare spots to keep the hide soft and checked their knees for heat. I would then return to the campfire to continue the entertainment. This was my normal routine on six day horseback vacations.
     I distinctly remember one four day trip with a small group of senior folks. We were not able to ride but six hours per day, (at the request of the guests), so the ride supplier set the camp supplies closer together on the trail. This quickly became a gravy ride for the wranglers and gave us more time to enjoy our guests and the ride. It was about nine o'clock and still daylight when our tuckered out guests were all bedded down. For the first time,  that I knew of on a trail ride, the wranglers had the campfire all to themselves. We sat there drinking our coffee and swapping tales of the cowboy life. I made the comment to the boys that this is what I came out here for. I told them I wanted to experience the freedom of the wilderness.
     My trail boss, (Candy Morrison), quickly informed me that this was not real freedom. This is the illusion of freedom that we provide for the guests who pay big money to go on these rides. "What we do here", he said, "is to enjoy the benefit of freedom. He tipped his hat back on his head, sipped his coffee and said, "I would like to tell you a true story about freedom and why it is so valuable to Americans". I got up and picked up the old metal coffee pot from the fire stone, filled every one's cup, set it back down and settled in for his story.
    He began his story slowly.  "When I was a young boy up in Livingston, (MT) I used to go trapping. One time I had set out about twenty or so traps and baited them with chicken parts. The next day I got up before daylight to check my string. After checking five or six of them I came up on one steel trap that had been sprung. I saw fox tracks in the snow around the trap and when I looked closer I found a fresh  hind paw of a fox laying on the ground. I knew the stories of the old men who had many times told about how when a fox is trapped he will chew off his leg to get away. I knew, right away, that this was the case here in my trap. I followed the blood trail and stumble signs for about three quarters of a mile and I found her. She had a liter of three pups laying on her, sucking milk from her teat like they were starving. She was exhausted to the point that her senses were very dull so I put her out of her misery with my forty-four, took the pups home and raised them until they were big enough to survive in the wild.  Eventually, I turned them out to live out the life their momma tried to give them. "You see boys",  he said slowly, "Freedom is not free. Freedom is the result of and idea to survive and the free will to sacrifice your all for the idea. Momma fox sacrificed her paw to get back to her pups with milk and one ol' chicken bone so her pups could live on to live their lives and raise their families." We all were very quiet by then and the supply driver spoke up and said,  "Freedom ain't free. It must be earned and fought for".
     The next time you see a veteran remember the story of momma fox and what she sacrificed in order to return to her family with food and drink. The veterans who return from fighting overseas and their families brings to us continued safety and security that we may enjoy the benefits of our freedom. Thank you to all who serve and nourish the American Dream.                                  C.D.James    5/28/2011