The Lowman Family, still pioneering | TSLN.com

The Lowman Family, still pioneering

Lowman photoTypical Lowman cattle (Angus base herd-Charolais bulls) in the summer, drinking from a fresh spring fed dugout.

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

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“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”

The first members of the Lowman family to ride the rugged, colorful North Dakota Badlands were in pursuit of wild horses.

Bill Lowman’s classic handlebar moustache arcs into a grin as he recalls his father Harold telling him he ventured there in response to a letter that caught up to him while working on the Spanish Ranch near Battle Mountain, NV. That missive was from Harold’s brother Harry Lowman, who said he’d befriended a young ranch worker in Wyoming who’d regaled him with tales of chasing bands of feral horses in his home country on the Little Missouri River. Those bands were the increase of homesteader’s horses turned loose when they’d starved out or froze out and quit the country. Harold took the bait, went to North Dakota, had great fun chasing horses, and never left.

“He started buying homesteader’s relinquishments that had gone back to the government,” Bill explains. “They cost 50 cents or a buck an acre, and it was still real tough to hold a place together and make a living.”

Bill grew up riding alongside his dad, covering their rough holdings at least every three days, checking cattle, water and fences. “He was always singing old cowboy songs,” Bill remembers, and chuckles, “Heck, in those days we kids thought he was a good singer.”