The High Flying Cowboy: texas Helicopter wranglers

a helicopter pilot flying a small helicopter herding a black cow in the direction he wants him to go

Pate Meinzer is sitting in his pickup truck in the desolate scrublands of north Texas, awaiting the arrival of his herd of roughly 900 red and black Angus cattle. A mixture of close to five hundred head of breeding cows and their various calves, watched over by nineteen massive bulls, they have spent the last few months roaming a 3,000-acre parcel of land on the Patterson Ranch. But it’s branding season, and the herd needs to be brought in to be vaccinated, inspected, and marked.

Normally it would take a team of fifteen to twenty cowboys several days to round up the cattle and drive them in through the rough rangeland endemic in this part of the state. Something Meinzer and his partner Ken Patterson’s small operation doesn’t just have sitting around. So, instead, they bring in their favorite airborne wrangler Andy Wheatly. He can knock out the task in just a few hours using his helicopter and save the operation some much-needed money.

close up of a older white man inside a two person helicopter ready to take off
a close up portrait image of a brown cow starring directly at the camera
Each flight is a delicate dance, one where he needs to continually access the landscape beneath him.

The use of helicopter cowboys is nothing new. Ranchers have used them pretty much from the moment they took to the skies, but the practice is becoming more common these days. That’s due to the dwindling supply of cowboys that once were as common as the tumbleweeds rolling across the plains. Plus, they can avoid the numerous obstacles that are common on the north Texas plains.

he takes his craft closer and nudges her forward with one of the two large landing struts under his chopper. That does it; she quickly trots along, seemingly annoyed with the whirlybird.

“Where we are, it’s just so brushy it can be pretty awful to move through and locate your cattle when it comes time to bring the herd in,” Meinzer says. “Andy can find all our cows quickly and drive them to us. It’s just so damn helpful.”

Seated inside his Robinson R-22 copter, with the Finch Ranch Helicopter Service logo painted on the side, Wheatly guides his craft back and forth across the sky. He deftly operates the controls cutting off any strays as they try to wander off, working to keep them inside the flowing river of cattle in motion below him. As a lifelong cattle rancher, he uses his helicopter much like a cowboy uses his horse to direct the cows forward. After twenty years in the air, the movements seem second nature these days.

a close up of a pilot flying a helicopter and seeing the propeller swinging overhead through the glass

His copter dips and drops vertically as he works the herd using his prop wash and the continual thrum of the spinning rotors to motivate the bovines towards the small holding pasture in the distance where Meinzer is waiting. Hovering one-hundred feet of the deck, the chopper spins around like a toy top, quickly pivoting to head off in another direction. He has spotted a particularly stubborn cow who seems intent to not follow the others.

a cow darting to the left as a cowboy on horseback swings a lasso aiming for another cow
a dusty field as a helicopter takes off

He drops down lower, raising a cloud of dust and brush off the ground as he pivots his chopper backward to stand still. His prop wash blasts the cow. It doesn’t affect her, so he takes his craft closer and nudges her forward with one of the two large landing struts under his chopper. That does it; she quickly trots along, seemingly annoyed with the whirlybird.

Each flight is a delicate dance, one where he needs to continually access the landscape beneath him.

“Every herd is different, and you need to see what they will be like when approaching them,” says Wheatly in his thick Texas drawl. “I try hard not to scare them and make them run but instead push them forward. If you mess it up, you can freak them out, something I try not to do. It’s just like horses. Over time the cattle learn to understand and respect the helicopter just like they do a horse.”

After about three hours, all of the cows are inside the pasture, lolling about eating the fresh feed that awaited them and drinking from water-filled troughs. Wheatly disappeared almost as quickly as he had arrived. His work was done for Meinzer. He rode his metal steed off to another ranch to help bring their herd in; the spring and fall branding seasons are his busiest.

“Over time the cattle learn to understand and respect the helicopter just like they do a horse."
a close up of a cowboy wearing a denim jacket holding a cows leg while it gets branded
an older cowboy wearing a denim shirt and black cowboy hat adjusting the settings on a cattle shoot as the sun sets

Now that the cattle are gathered, the hard work will begin the next day. That’s when a batch of cowboys will arrive with their horses in tow behind their dust-coated trucks. Since Meinzer knows when the herd will be in, he can coordinate the temporary help he will need. Anyone who shows up the next few days will be greeted with a scene that has played out on the Texas landscape for centuries, cowboys working the herd from horseback. Then they will be turned loose to roam free again until the helicopter cowboy appears over the horizon the next time.

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