When the phrase “cowboy poet” is used to describe a person’s vocation, my first thought is of Baxter Black, the legendary Public Radio personality. He’s actually a veterinarian by training and has probably made most of his money working with sick animals and stingy farmers. But, to millions of radio listeners and convention-goers, he’s the cowboy poet who loves to recite his poetic yarns to cause a chuckle or bring a tear. 

A few years ago, I got to listen to Baxter Black at a library convention. At the time, I didn’t know that much about him, so when I walked into the auditorium, I was amazed that there was hardly a seat available. Since then, I can recognize his voice over the radio and when I do, I forget about everything else and just listen to his poetry. 

The Library has two books by Baxter. The first is entitled “Cactus Tracks and Cowboy Philosophy” and contains a collection of stories which range from a hilarious account of two cowboys chasing a cow in the nude to a touching piece about a rancher who loses his wife to cancer and finds the true worth of his friends and neighbors.

The second book in the Library’s collection is called “Loosecow Party”. This book is illustrated with drawings to capture the word descriptions of the author. Coming from a farm in Idaho where I grew up at Saturday livestock sale barns, I particularly liked Baxter’s description of a heifer—a Limousin mountain goat cross—who gets out of the auctioneer’s ring and into the crowded bleacher seats. As she climbs the stairs, she scatters the buyers and looker’s-on still holding their cups of coffee and crib notes. Reading that story, I could just about smell the sweet aroma of dried cow manure dust that such a ruckus would have raised in the sale barn.

The point of this article and the reminiscing about my cowboy days is that on this coming Monday, March 22nd, at 7:00 PM, the Columbus Public Library and the Art Gallery will be hosting Nebraska’s own cowgirl poet, Lyn Messersmith, who is a 3rd generation Cherry County rancher.

I first become acquainted with Lyn about four summers ago when my wife and I road our bicycles across Nebraska on the BRAN. I’m no longer certain at which town we were for the night, but this western Nebraska town had invited a group of local poets to entertain the five to six hundred bicyclers in the city square. 

In their turn, these ranch men and women climbed up onto a hayrack—an impromptu stage—and in the heat of the late afternoon sun, and with the help of a microphone, they recounted their ranch life in poetry. Practically every one of these poets had memorized his/her work and each recited beautifully. I was particularly impressed with Lyn’s work and presentation. Her poem about “putting down” her favorite horse brought tears to my eyes. 

This program will be held in the Art Gallery in the lower level of the Library and it is funded by the Nebraska Humanities Council.