El Vaquero
The word ”vaquero” literally means “worker of the cows,” but to these true cowboys it means much more: It is a way of life handed down from generation to generation.
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE BOOK EL VAQUERO REAL BY JOHN DYER
In the laconic world of the vaquero, it’s hard for a visitor to south Texas to learn much about these tough, independent men at first. As an old vaquero once told me, “They hired me to push cows; there’s not a lot to talk about.”
Yet, if the visitor is patient and shows respect for the vaquero’s culture, the stories will start to flow.
When asked if they consider themselves vaqueros, most will say that they are just ranch hands. The word vaquero is a term of respect, and to the vaqueros working today, it refers to their fathers and grandfathers who came before them—men who really knew how to cowboy, who knew how to find the hard-headed vacas (cattle) hiding among the mesquite trees, chase them down and rope them, and bring them in to join the gathering herd.
Being a vaquero always was and still is a dangerous profession. Steers are strong and unruly, and the summers are punishingly hot. Máximo Cremar, now in his 70s, had his thumb popped off when his lasso twisted around it as he roped a bull. Riding a horse is perilous, too. As my friend Felix Serna says, “Cuando pones la pata en el estribo, no sabes como vas a venir para atrás (When you put your foot in the stirrup, you don’t know how you’ll come back).”
I set out to tell the story of the vaquero. But, of course, that’s impossible. It would take 1,000 pages to tell the story. Instead, I decided to produce a kind of ode to the vaquero, building an impression of the vaquero’s world with beautiful images.
It would have been a fatal mistake to start the vaquero project with an idea of how this world should look. We all have a dreamy notion of what the Old West was like on a big cattle ranch.
In truth, seeing what exists over there right now is far more interesting than shooting the cliché. Photographing the vaquero is all about being honest, to them and to myself.
There is still enough of the story left to tell. Sure, the big ranches don’t have 30 to 40 vaqueros living and working on them like they used to. Much of the herding is done by helicopter. The modern vaquero spends a lot time taming the cattle so they are easier to round up, work and ship; as a result, the cattle are less stressed in the process. The vaqueros still have to know cattle and horses, how to throw a beautiful lariat and rope an unruly steer, and how to ride.
Oh, my, how they do ride!
The skills of the vaquero are still celebrated and practiced. Nearly every weekend in ranching country there is a small “ranch rodeo” or roping event where the vaqueros (and now hobbyists, too) get together and pit themselves one-on-one and against the clock in “heading and heeling” steers, branding, milking wild cows and more.
So far, the vaqueros’ story has gone pretty much untold. But, the book is an attempt to do something about that. To shine the light of recognition and honor on these important men. They represent an extended community of hard work, honor, sacrifice, pride and humility that is hard to match elsewhere. Some day they will be gone, but their legacy will continue.
– John Dyer, edited for MyMidwest by Jane Wolkowicz
John Dyer is a professional photographer in San Antonio. He has spent his career documenting the people and culture of San Antonio, south Texas and his native Montana, in addition to commercial work for national magazines, advertising and corporate clients. El Vaquero Real is published by Bright Sky Press. Go to vaqueroreal.com to learn more.
