American cowboy poet, humor columnist and veterinarian Baxter Black died Friday, June 10 at the age of 77.

Black has written over 30 books of poetry, fiction – both novels and children’s literature – and commentary, selling over two million books, CDs and DVDs.

“Baxter Black was a cowboy poet and an icon known around the world,” said Patrick T. Muldoon, a friend of Black. “His words and stories gave those of us who live that cowboy life permission to celebrate it. As a performer, he was second to none. For those who were lucky enough to meet him and getting to know him, they found a warm and engaging soul. Baxter Black, the performer, was larger than life, but so was the man.

Black was born at Brooklyn Navel Hospital in Brooklyn, NY, but grew up in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

In high school, Black became the president of Future Farmers of America, the senior class president, and did a year of wrestling. He began riding bulls in rodeos while in high school and continued riding throughout college.

He earned his undergraduate degree at New Mexico State University and completed his veterinary education at Colorado State University, where he graduated in 1969.

He was a practicing veterinarian from 1969 to 1982, specializing in large animals, such as cows and horses.

In the last two years of his veterinary career, Black gained popularity through public speaking with over 250 appearances. After that, his career as a poet began.

Black also hosted the public television series Baxter Black and Friends. He wrote a column, spoke on the radio, and had filmed segments on RFD-TV and The Cowboy Channel.

He and his wife, Cindy Lou, resided in Benson, Arizona, where they had no cell phones, televisions or fax machines.

In late 2021, Black retired from writing and speaking engagements due to health issues. He entered hospice care in January.

Muldoon said he and Black both shared a love of poetry. He shared the self-penned poem “Facing Backwards” as a tribute to his friend.

face upside down

A day when life overflows

And my old saddle sits on its own

As we gather for the last goodbye

Tie ’em back on the way home

Choose a horse that I would saddle

In a place where the roots run deep

Lace up my boots in the stirrups

Before I lay down to sleep

Lead me to the sound of pipers

Play old songs to score that way

Put my ashes in my best boots

And ride with me one more day

Send me like kings and warriors

Aboard bold ponies, no one rides

So please send me to Valhalla

Of these sacred campaigns

For old cowherds and old poets

As they take their last good run

On board a horse without its rider

West under the setting sun

PT Muldoon ©2017