Many times I’ve heard of certain tree workers referred to as ‘cowboys’. In many of the elite circles of arboriculture, this term seems to have a negative connotation. Unsafe, maybe even reckless, rough around the edges, blah blah blah.

I’ve never met a real cowboy before this weekend, or even been around one for that matter, but I was lucky enough to have that experience.

My family and I attended the Cowtown Rodeo in Pilesgrove, New Jersey. It’s a small, weekly rodeo. And it is as absolutely romantic as you may imagine.

Howard Grant Harris is the fourth generation producer and owner of the Cowtown Rodeo. He is absolutely a real cowboy. And his story in itself is one of deep inspiration.

The whole time I was searching to make some kind of connection between the cowboys I watched wrestle steers and ride bucking broncos to the arborist trade, and to the arborist persona, and to the work we do as arborists.

Then, after the bull wrestling was over, a bit of a dramatic scene unraveled. Grant Harris led in his stock of saddle broncs to parade around the arena. His shirt was perfectly white, and his cowboy hat stood tall, and his grey horse galloped gracefully on the rodeo dirt. In a beautiful monologue, the rodeo announcer described how a cowboy’s stock is their pride and joy. The cattle and the horses that they maintain are everything to them. And without that stock, without a herd to drive, a cowboy is nothing but dirt and grit riding alone.

I think there was a tear in my eye.

And there it was. The cowboy as a keeper and lover of the stock. A deep connection between the human-ness and the wildness that only a cowboy can understand. A cowboy is really just a tamer of wild things.

And so too is the arborist.

The trees we care for can of course be compared to the stock a cowboy keeps. Arborists are very deeply connected to trees, the little ones and the big ones. And definitely the really wild, mean ones. We have a deep respect for the living they provide for us. Their health, and what they provide for others. Some are branded with the burn of a double braid rope, some are tagged for inventory, and some are left mostly alone, albeit with a careful and watchful eye, on the edges of the meadow, on the edges of the wild frontier.

An arborist knows their stock and keeps it well.

Howard Grant Harris is quoted as saying, ‘What we do is what we are.’

And I think that says it all.