Sometimes, I wish I were a cow on Hawaii. Particularly in Waimea, here in the northern interior of the Big Island.

Big Island — this is what locals affectionately call their island. Since the island of Hawaii is the largest of the chain — you could fit the other seven major islands into it — the name “Hawaii” was chosen as the name of the 50th U.S. state.

A fresh trade wind is always blowing up here in Waimea, at the foot of the picture-book volcano Mauna Kea, at 13,796 feet (4,208 m) the highest mountain in the islands. Puffy cotton clouds sail over a crisp blue sky.

Lush green grasses grow from the fertile lava earth. And the panorama? With steep real estate prices on the islands, most two-legged natives can hardly afford such a beautiful mountain location with commanding vistas of the cobalt blue Pacific. Ruminating with a view — Hawaii is a paradise even for cows, if it weren’t for those pesky cowboys.

Participants in Parker Ranch horseback-riding tours encounter lots of domesticated cattle.

Who knew cowboys roamed this tropical island? After Queen Liliuokalani was overthrown by American and European Hawaiians who were threatened by the elimination of suffrage in the queen’s proposed constitution, the United States annexed Hawaii in 1898.

At the time, ranching was the economic backbone of much of the mainland United States.

Waimea is Hawaii’s ranching center. Around here, tanned beach boys in pretty flower-print surfing shorts are still an exception today. The cowboy tradition started around the year 1800 in these tropical highlands, some 50 years ahead of the first lasso being uncoiled in the Wild West — a fact that many Waimeans like to point out, proudly and frequently.

The friendly people of this sleepy town prefer riding on horseback to riding a wave and, instead of flip flops, they wear cowboy boots.

Take Keoki Wood, for instance. His actual name is George, which he translated into Hawaiian. It really should be “John,” as he looks quite similar to John Wayne: blond and tall, with broad shoulders, water-blue eyes and a large hat with a wide brim.

Keoki is livestock operations manager for Parker Ranch. He is one of 12 paniolos who work for Hawaii’s largest cattle farm. Paniolo is the Hawaiian word for español, or Spanish, explains Keoki. This is what the first cowboys were called when they were invited by King Kamehameha to his island empire in 1832 from Mexico, to get a grip on marauding cattle herds.

George Vancouver had meant well when he brought five longhorns along on his second visit here. (Together with James Cook, Vancouver had discovered Hawaii for the western world in 1778.) If Vancouver had known about the longterm consequences of his well-intended gift, he would surely turn in his grave today.

King Kamehameha must have been pleased with the exotic present, as he ordered the animals not to be touched by anyone, so that their numbers would increase quickly. And multiply, they did.

It was not long until the horned bovines were munching away on the thatched roofs of terrified islanders. To come across a bad-tempered bull in the dark could be a deadly mistake. Soon Hawaii was looking for outside help to cope with a biological experiment gone awry. John Palmer Parker was the first marksman who was officially commissioned by his majesty to cull the unrestrained beasts.

Palmer, a ship’s clerk who jumped ship in Hawaii and decided to stay, settled permanently on Hawaii, where he was eventually hired to work with the king’s cattle. He kept some of the best breeding animals for part of his wages. He married a Hawaiian princess and started a ranching dynasty — a fairytale ascent.