• Originally published May 18, 2008 at 12:14 a.m., updated May 18, 2008 at 12:14 a.m.

The American cowboy, foremost icon of our Western heritage. Every young boy has pretended to be one. Movies, books and songs long have romanticized rugged cowboy individualism.

In today’s fast-paced, technological world there’s an inclination to suppose that the conventional working cowboy – as opposed to the daredevil rodeo or fancy drugstore varieties – may be a dying breed. Yet, maybe not.

Another spring roundup reminded me of the durability of a cowboy culture fostered in pre-Civil War Texas. Never mistaken as any kind of cowhand, I sometimes tag along strictly as a do-nothing, stay-out-of-the-way observer when cattle are worked at the Bee County ranch of my son-in-law, Jon New.

Watching again the freelance team of cowboys that David Ohrt ramrods go about their unique job begs the question: So long as ranchers graze herds of cattle to put beef on our tables, how else but with cowboys could the close-up work get done?

Sure, innovation has a significant role in the business – artificial insemination, computerized records, online brokering, ATVs and more. But the essential role these 21st century cowboys play when cattle need sorting and hands-on treatment is much the same as the way their predecessors must have gone about it a century ago.

The three men David Ohrt brings with him on this overcast and comfortable April morning are two sons, Clay and Garrett, and Charlie Schlinke. They haul a trailer with four horses, some cow dogs and other gear.

The eager dogs stay in the trailer, unneeded and disappointed because gathering the cattle from two nearby pastures goes so smoothly. Simon Garza, Jon’s ranch foreman, who couldn’t be there, left the herd within easy reach this time.

The four men in the saddles look like cowboys are supposed to look – chaps, tall boots, spurs and wide-brimmed hats. Except Charlie wears his ball cap.

David probably is some younger than me. He’s a lifetime cowboy. We think we played softball against each other more than 50 years ago. No telling how many times he’s worked cattle like this; must be a thousand or more.

I suspect David could get by without hiring out – he and his sons have their own places with cows and crops to tend out Mission Valley way – but these guys obviously relish cowboying. They are a study in efficiency on this day.

The first pasture of cattle soon is corralled, and then the real work begins. Men and horses separate the momma cows from calves, leaving the bawling youngsters alone in the pen from which they will be treated, one by one. It’s not a fun day to be a calf, particularly a male, but it seems to me the animals are handled with a calm respect for their value.

They are pushed in smaller bunches through a single-file, gated chute that ends at David’s calf table, a sturdy metal attachment that clamps the calf securely when it tries to bolt for daylight.

Jon helps as calves get multiple shots, have their small horns clipped and ears notched. Females are freed after that; males require extra attention. The calf table tilts baby bulls onto their sides and David wields his sharp pocketknife to quickly alter their futures. The “fries” are saved for Simon in a large coffee canister, later refrigerated.

After the calves are tended to and moved to another holding pen, the adults are driven through a larger single-file chute and administered shots.

The whole process is repeated, again smoothly, with the other pasture of cattle. Finally, young and old are reunited. They will spend the summer eating and growing, and the bulked-up calves will be ready for market along about September.

Bad news for two of the ranch’s six Charolais bulls. One looks poorly and acts crazy; tries to scramble over the corral fence. Another has developed two bad hind legs that will impede his bully duties. They are isolated and Simon will send them to the sale in Beeville the next week.

David and company chat a while, get their pay and head home probably earlier than expected, satisfied, I’m sure, in a job well done.

It’s the cowboy way.

Vince Reedy, now retired, is a former managing editor and associate editor of the Advocate. Leave him a message at 361-580-6301 or by e-mail at vreedy@sbcglobal.net, or comment on this column at www.VictoriaAdvocate.com.

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