Wyoming

Bryce Canyon, Utah - photo by JoAnn Sturman

by E. E. Fullerton

Ernest E. Fullerton moved to Wyoming from Nebraska in 1914 with his wife and seven children. The family settled in a small town which was also home to a Christian College. A deeply religious man and former semi-professional baseball player, he served on the college board for three years and wrote poems and articles for the Lusk Herald, the area's newspaper. His poem, The Brain Trust, was posted previously in FIYE.

They live in Wyoming,
On the bleak and treeless plains.
Where it always snows in winter,
But in summer seldom rains.

Wife in the house was happy,
Busy with her pans and pots.
Husband too was very busy,
Tending to the stock and crops.

Everything looked so prosperous,
Everything was growing nice.
One noon there came a storm cloud,
Nothing fell but chunks of ice.

Their bright prospects had vanished,
There upon the ground they lay.
Not a darned thing they’re good for,
But to make a little hay.

Still, they were not discouraged,
They gathered in what they could.
There was a little corner,
Still was looking pretty good.

Then there came a hot morning,
Day would have some frightful heat.
From the sky hopper tumbled,
What was left they began to eat.

Still they had their coop and chickens,
Maybe that could pull them through.
Try to live so very meager,
Go in rags to make things do.

In November what a snow storm,
Lasting three full nights and days.
Grass was so deeply covered,
Stock on prairies could not graze.

The West winds now came blowing,
People call them a “Chinook.”
Three days and nights they lasted,
Quite a bit of snow they took.

“Chinooks” are always followed,
By a cold wave like a vice.
The North winds came roaring,
Slushy snow is turned to ice.

Winter’s on now in earnest,
Wind and snow keep on at play.
To keep the stock from starving,
They must be fed a little hay.

The day begin to lengthen,
Winter’s then at his best.
The wind keeps ever busy,
It drives the snow, it never rests.

Daily the snow grows deeper,
Daily the cold winds increase.
Daily the stocks grow thinner,
Between their ribs there is a crease.

Then one day in late winter,
When a blizzard raged outside.
One cow became discouraged.
Down she lay - she died.

They’ll all die the husband grumbled,
And he spoke in dismal tones.
They are so poor and skinny,
Nothing left but skin and bones.

His little wife caressed him,
Kissed his worn and troubled brow.
“Can’t we in some way manage,
To get away from here and how?”

The husband thought in silence,
On this face a bright smile came.
“I believe I know a way,
Let’s sell our darned old claim!”

Twas a cow man who bought it,
Bought it cheap, they didn’t care.
All they wished for was money,
Just enough for railroad fare.

When taking the train at Jireh,
Everywhere was snow and ice.
In the place where they landed,
Everything was green and nice.

Bright above the sun was shining,
In the fields was wavering wheat.
And at night would you believe it,
There was still a little heat.

Long they thought and pondered,
Would it be a bit of harm,
To shoot people in Wyoming
Who are so foolish to farm?

This is the message they send us,
Send it with their loudest breath.
Get out of that danged country,
If you don’t, you’ll starve to death!

And shall we not heed them,
Heed them with unbounding joy.
Turn the country back to ranchers,
To the cowman and cowboy,