A Real Texas Cattle Drive… Until the Drone Took Over

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Howdy folks,
My name’s Connor McCauley, and welcome to this week’s newsletter.

If you’ve been reading along, you already know I write these from my own perspective — the new guy who married into a fifth-generation Texas ranching family and is learning the ropes one dust cloud at a time. If you’re just joining in, that means I get to tell these stories as someone who’s still figuring out how this all works — learning the rhythm, the patience, and the deep sense of legacy that comes with running cattle on land that’s been worked for generations.

Alright, let’s saddle up and get into this week’s story.

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The Morning Started With Missing Horses

We kicked off the week finishing a cattle drive — one that started with gathering a few more cows from another pasture to fill the weaning pens. (If you’re new to ranching or just curious, go back a few newsletters — I’ve talked about weaning in detail. It’s worth the read.)

That morning, I fired up my dirt bike and headed down to the barn. Aaron met me there with that look — the one that says something’s not going as planned.
“We can’t find the horses,” he said.

So, Sam and I split off to track them down. Picture the sun just coming up over the canyon, dust rising off the tires, and me zigzagging across the pasture on the bike while Sam scouted on foot. After a bit of searching, we finally found the horses tucked away in a corner, pretending they couldn’t hear us. Lazy bunch — looked like they weren’t too excited about working that day.

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Reins, Rattling Trailers, and a Dun Horse With Opinions

Once we got everyone rounded up, we loaded the horses into the trailer and climbed onto the back of the feed truck — me, Aaron, Coit, and Derek — heading up the hill toward the pasture. I was set to ride Little Dun that day, a smart little horse with a streak of mischief.

As we rumbled up the road, a loud crash came from the trailer. We jumped off, thinking maybe someone spooked, and sure enough — Little Dun had somehow broken his reins clean through. That horse had already decided he wasn’t having it.

We radioed Sam, who showed up with a fresh pair, calm as ever, like this was just another Tuesday. With that fixed, we backed the horses out, mounted up, and rode into the pasture.

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Classic Texas Cattle Drive

The next few hours were about as traditional as it gets — the kind of work that reminds you why this way of life still matters. The horses settled into rhythm, the cowboys spaced out across the pasture, and the dust rolled behind the herd as we pushed the cows toward the pens.

It’s not glamorous work — but there’s something about that steady push, the creak of saddle leather, the sound of calves bawling for their mamas, and the quiet teamwork that happens without a single word.

We got the herd down to the pens, sorted the moms from the calves, and then ran the yearlings through the chute system. Cowboy Up and his crew moved back and forth at the gates, calling signals, sending cattle left or right depending on where they needed to go. It’s a rhythm — part instinct, part experience — and if you blink, you’ll miss the way everyone moves together.

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Droning On (Literally)

Once things slowed down, I pulled out the drone to grab some shots of the action. From above, you see everything differently — the patterns of movement, the dust trails, the geometry of a working pen. It’s beautiful in its own rugged way.

Then I noticed a few cows still standing off to the side, refusing to move. So, I figured, why not try something new? I dipped the drone down, swooped behind them, and — believe it or not — actually herded cattle with a drone. You could see them glance up, confused, and then start moving right into the pen.

Never thought I’d say this, but that might’ve been the first time technology actually helped on the ranch instead of just breaking down.

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All in all, it was one of those days that reminds me why I love this life — the mix of chaos, humor, teamwork, and tradition. Every week out here teaches me something new, and every story reminds me just how lucky I am to be part of it.

Until next time,
Connor
Harrell Ranch | TriTails Beef