Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell’s life.
Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.
On Tuesdays, while growing up, we’d head to the cattle sale. I’d sit next to my
father, back behind the cable rail.
And being young and curious, like boys at eight years old, I quickly learned the
breed of cows while they were being sold.
I soon discovered black and whites were dairy in their make. And steers with
bawley faces soon would be a T-bone steak.
But most of all the time I spent while at the cattle sale, was listening to the
auctioneers. Their voice could sing a tale.
No auctioneer would sound the same. They rattled out their style. My mind
would wander from the cows. Just listening was worthwhile.
I could not rightly figure how they auctioneered so fast. And hollered out the
numbers. Not a one to be outclassed.
Well, that was sixty years ago, still vivid in my brain. To be an auctioneer might
yet be something to attain.
I opened up the internet and watched a video. The auctioneer was rattling and
I’m sure enough too slow.
‘Cuz I couldn’t wrap my tongue around my worn-out crooked teeth. My doubt
was taking over causing me some disbelief.
But then I found an auction chant just right for this old kid. It goes, ”I’m bid one
dollar, now two, now two dollar bid.”
I practiced that one-liner for a week or maybe two. And came to realize that
auctioneering’s for the few.
My family won’t believe their ears. An auctioneer I’ll be. Who knows, I might be
famous. I’ll sign autographs for free!
So, if you need an auctioneer who only counts to two. Then pardner I’m your
man. I’ll auctioneer until I’m blue.