Cowboys and Horses

It's an impulse item I realize, but I want it.  Actually, it's two impulse items.

There's a new consignment store just up the street from us.  We wandered through there one day last week, just to see what they had.  There wasn't any intent to buy anything; we were looking more to see what we owned that we could send down there.

Then I saw it.   Sometimes, an item is so unique and perfect that you just have to have it, regardless of the practicality or cost.  There it was, staring at me, a piece of my heritage.

A stuffed adult American Bison.

In great shape.  When you see these come up for sale, they tend to be a bit "shopworn".  Apparently stuffed bison have a relatively short life expectancy for when they're looking good.  This one, however, is in fantastic shape.

I have no idea where it came from or how it happened to be in Hickory, North Carolina, but this master of the Plains was right there waiting to find a new home.

Our home!

Live bison are a pain in the butt.  They're as big as a Toyota and about as bright as a houseplant.  At the Wichita Wildlife Refuge near Lawton, Oklahoma they lose a couple of tourists a year because some moron decides to "pet" the buffalo.  People who live in the area tend to think of it as Darwin's theory in action.

These are not relatives of Bossy the Cow, gently chewing their cud while you massage their breasts to retrieve the milk.  If they were humans, they would wear have multiple piercings and their hair would be dyed a color not found in nature.  They are the relatives that don't get invited to Thanksgiving Dinner because they have significant anger management issues.

A stuffed one, though, is a glorious thing.  Just the conversation piece that a large house like ours needs.  Guests couldn't help but talk about it.

I'd talked myself out of it, though, because it's really not practical.  And it's big and just not practical.  It's just something else to dust.  Did I mention that it's not very practical? We are downsizing, not acquiring. 

Then fate stepped in with the perfect complement to a stuffed bison and I have to rethink my decision.  It's as if the stars lined up and said "buy these things."

Saturday morning on the radio they announced that Trigger is for sale.

For those not in the know, Trigger is Roy Roger’s horse, the bookend to Dale Evan's mount, Buttercup. When Trigger made that last ride into the sunset, Roy had him stuffed and mounted.

The Roy Rogers Museum in Branson, Missouri is apparently a victim of the economic crisis. All of the contents are going to auction through Christie’s Auction House – including Trigger.  It's kind of sad that the museum won't be around any more, although the generations that ran around the back yard with a plan to ". . . head 'em off at the pass and then string 'em up for rustlin' cattle," is also on the downhill slide.

Roy's not in syndication anywhere that I can find, and even his DVD's are on the $1 rack most of the time. 

The market for used cowboys is pretty slim these days.

Trigger wasn’t just any horse. Like “Xerox” or “Kleenex”, “Trigger” became a synonym for not just horses but lots of things that are useful and transport things.

When my friend Patti C’s cancer evolved to the stage that a walker was necessary, her three-wheeled collapsible became “Trigger”. Another friend, having had knee surgery and getting a skooter you kneel on and push along like a skateboard for several weeks dubbed it Trigger as well. Lots of kids bicycles in the 60’s and 70’s were Trigger, at least temporarily.

The original Trigger was destined for infamy in the movies. He was born on Bing Crosby’s ranch in 1934, acquired by Roy Rogers in 1938 and renamed from “Golden Cloud” to “Trigger”. He went on to be in all of Roy Roger’s movies – 188 of them – as well as on the Roy Roger’s show between 1951 and 1957.  He had his own fan club during that time.
One has to wonder if Dale ever got that much screen time or attention.  She just got buried when she passed, and there's no mention made of what happened to Buttercup.  Of course, Roy didn't have any say in what happened to Dale since he went first.  She presumably had enough sense not to try to stuff him to go along with Trigger.

I got to see him once (Trigger, not Roy), when I was in about the 3rd grade.  Trigger was part of a travelling display that went to the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City, and our class went on a field trip. 

You couldn't pet him (Trigger, I'm not sure about Roy - he wasn't around and nobody tried as far as I know), but you could see him (Trigger, not Roy) up close. As I recall, holsters and firearms that were along on the trip by the third graders -- and there were more than a few -- were allowed in those pre-metal detector days.

It’s kind of a sad comment on our culture that there’s no longer enough interest in a cowboy icon – or his horse – to maintain a museum in Branson, Missouri, of all places.

So the chance to get THE Trigger -- along with a buffalo to boot -- well, these opportunities come across but once in a lifetime.  I'm trying to talk myself out of it, though.

I probably won’t buy the buffalo or bid on Trigger. Practicality will dictate over the heart and we'll let this opportunity go by.

Did I mention that Trigger isn't any more practical than the Buffalo? 

The auction comes up in just a few days – July 14 and 15 – with the expected sale price between $100,000 and $200,000 for the stuffed horse, I’d probably need longer than that to get a certified check up.

I wouldn’t have time to build a stable by then, anyhow, so guess I’ll have to say “Happy Trails” to Trigger and let him ride off into the sunset, following the buffalo.