Voices from the Heartland: North Dakota cowboy poet Bill Lowman reads his poem "Badlands Fire"

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Listen: Voices from the Heartland - Cowboy poet Bill Lowman from Sentinel Butte, North Dakota reads his poem Badlands Fire
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On this Voices from the Heartland segment, cowboy poet Bill Lowman, from Sentinel Butte, North Dakota, reads his poem “Badlands Fire.”

Transcript:

(00:00:00) Howdy Folks, this is Bill Lomond from Sentinel Butte North Dakota. I'm a cowboy poet humorist a born and raised Cowboy that owns and operates at 10,000 acres spread in the rugged Western North Dakota Badlands next to the Theodore Roosevelt National Park I Ranch there with my wife and two sons. I've been riding Cowboy Poetry for some fifteen twenty years for the very same reason my cowboy forefathers did in the late 1800s. It was a means of self entertainment on Long Lonesome trail drives from the Texas Panhandle country into eastern Montana and the Western Dakotas. It's also it's a way of entertaining yourself, but it's also a way of recording little incidences that otherwise would get lost now in 1980. We've had a lot of dry years through the 80s out in the ranching business and and really a trying time and and that that Fosters more poetry to get For self entertainment and I wrote a poem called Badlands fire. We live in deep rugged Badlands. We have a lot of Cedar canyons and Pockets. We had three major fires in 1988. We were dried out real bad and lightning storms would come up and we wouldn't get much rain out of them. We'd get a lot of lightning and they'd spark fires. There was a lot of a lot of night sitting nightwatch and out of the Three Fires. We had evolved a lot of volunteer people including myself. That fought him and I wrote this poem on of out of those experiences in 1988 on our Ranch and are a ranch under neighbors ranches. It wasn't all that big a cloud the way that I recall but it bore the devil's license plate and he must have took a fall. I figures the Torchy carries to use down there for light towards the cause behind the Raging Blaze others thought for spite deep in the heart of Cedar country where the skies and ridges meet he chose to make his kitchen and spread his message to eat hors. D'oeuvres were quickly swallowed the main dish really hurt. Then he wiped his lips and stood To prowl for his dessert now he no vegetarian as at first I thought he might for deer and rabbits were consumed as they darted confused in Freight. He had him working on his side as their coats were torched to fire that - for safer ground ahead and fill his heart's desire like Hitler to Mussolini. He bloodied with the wind and temps a pest a hundred it appeared. Our Lord was pinned the humans planned and quarreled. Over tactics to be took for each mind a new opinion enough to write a 5 inch book then to prove his reputation and show he didn't care. He jumped fire breaks and Creek Bluffs. No concern for fighting Fair Trails were cut down hug backs. Where the mighty Badlands Pro to survey this act at daylight gave brave men cause to crawl at Daybreak the second morning it appeared to be contained but by noon on he'd gained adrenaline and only ashes would remain Choppers were called upon the scene to try and sniff his spark. They sat down as night fell he worked on through the dark as the winds picked up the third day The Blaze increased its boil one-by-one concedes were made. No human waste could spoil he licked up Cedar Canyons like they were maple syrup and top another drainage pausing only just to burp. Then just as they had flared up the winds and temps went down folks picked up their energy and ring around the crown. Now ecologist swill say it's good that nature won the fight, but don't ask a cow or cowboy on some January night.


Transcripts

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BILL LOWMAN: Howdy, folks. This is Bill Lowman from Sentinel Butte, North Dakota. I'm a cowboy, poet, humorist. A born and raised cowboy that owns and operates a 10,000 acre spread in the rugged Western North Dakota Badlands next to the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I ranch there with my wife and two sons.

I've been writing cowboy poetry for some 15 to 20 years for the very same reason my cowboy forefathers did in the late 1800s. It was a means of self-entertainment on long, lonesome trail drives from the Texas panhandle country into Eastern Montana and the Western Dakotas. It's a way of entertaining yourself, but it's also a way of recording little incidences that otherwise would get lost.

Now, in 1980, we've had a lot of dry years through the '80s out in the ranching business and really a trying time. And that fosters more poetry to get through for self-entertainment. And I wrote a poem called "Badlands Fire." We live in a deep, rugged badlands. We have a lot of cedar canyons and pockets.

We had three major fires in 1988. We were dried out real bad. And lightning storms would come up, and we wouldn't get much rain out of them. We'd get a lot of lightning, and they'd spark fires. There was a lot of night sitting night watch. And out of the three fires, we had a lot of volunteer people, including myself that fought them. And I wrote this poem out of those experiences in 1988 on our ranch and near our ranch, on our neighbors' ranches.

"It wasn't all that big a cloud the way that I recall,

But it bore the devil's license plate,

And he must have took a fall.

I figures the torch he carries to use down there for light,

'Twas the cause behind the raging blaze, others thought for spite.

Deep in the heart of cedar country where the skies and ridges meet,

He chose to make his kitchen and spread his mess to eat.

Hors d'oeuvres were quickly swallowed, the main dish really hurt.

Then he wiped his lips and stood to prowl for his dessert.

Now, he ain't no vegetarian as at first I thought he might,

For deer and rabbits were consumed as they darted confused in fright.

He had him working on his side as their coats were torched to fire.

They dashed for safer ground ahead and fill his heart's desire.

Like Hitler to Mussolini, he buddied with the wind,

And temps up past 100, it appeared our Lord was pinned.

The humans planned and quarreled over tactics to be took.

For each mind, a new opinion enough to write a 5-inch book.

Then to prove his reputation and show he didn't care,

He jumped firebreaks and creek bluffs, no concern for fighting fair.

Trails were cut down hogbacks where the mighty Badlands sprawl,

To survey this act at daylight gave brave men cause to crawl.

At daybreak, the second morning, it appeared to be contained.

But by noon, he had gained adrenaline and only ashes would remain.

Shoppers were called upon the scene to try and snuff his spark.

They sat down as night fell.

He worked on through the dark.

As the winds picked up the third day, the blaze increased its boil.

One by one concedes were made.

No human waste could spoil.

He licked up cedar canyons like they were maple syrup,

On top another drainage, pausing only just to burp.

Then, just as they had flared up, the winds and temps went down.

Folks picked up their energy and ringed around the crown.

Now, ecologists will say it's good that nature won the fight,

But don't ask a cow or cowboy on some January night."

Funders

Digitization made possible by the National Historical Publications & Records Commission.

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