NTM

   What would you say if I started making signs that said, “Beware of killer pies?” This is a serious issue! A guy could make a killing selling a sign like that in Texas! If there would have been a sign like that up when I almost got killed it could have saved me a lot of pain and heartache! “How?” you ask. It went something like this…
   One sunshiny morning about a week ago I went out with my friend Dan’s two little brothers and his dad. Just like any time before we set out to work cows. We lured them ever so gently with a truck into the corrals and set about the task of separating the undesirables from the rest. With the exception of one rather angry mama cow things were going well. After we got all the ones we wanted alone in the corrals we began driving them into a chute. Once there, Dan’s dad would shut the gate on them until we ran the next one around. This worked out fine enough for most of these calves, but one black heifer with a white face decided she had other plans. She would run toward the gate and at the last second turn real quick, and you would have four to five hundred pounds of angry beef running right at you.

   Now normally you could just wait until she was close, and then jump to the side unscathed. But because there was no “Killer pie” sign, I wasn’t aware of a second option.

   As she closed in I prepared for the lunge. And when the time was right…nothing! No traction! No sideways movement! In fact, I found myself headed in the worst possible direction…down! Some sly cow had perfectly placed her “pie” right where I was standing and so set the trap that I was to spring. I slipped in the cow pie and when I landed my shoulder popped. But there was no time to lay there, no time to groan in agony. As soon as I hit, I looked up just in time to get an up-close and personal look at the underside of a cow. After some kicking and tumbling from both of us the heifer and I stood up and prepared for round two.

   Round two consisted of Dan’s brother and me tackling the heifer twice, and then with the help of his dad, we dragged her into the chute. After all was said and done we took inventory of our injuries. I’d been kicked in the head as well as several other places, but none very severe at all. In fact, the worst injury I sustained wasn’t from the heifer at all! To this day the only thing that hurts is my shoulder from slipping on the cow pie! Hence my fervor for a sign that says, “Beware of killer pies!”

   What a way to KICK off the New Year! From my youth those around me have bestowed pearls of wisdom upon me. Most of which I never asked for. For example, my grandpa’s gem went something like this, “Jeremy, ever stupid idea that pops into your head doesn’t have to come out of your mouth!” Some other mantras sent ringing in my ears were, “You’re so full of (poop) your eyes are brown!”, “Listen to me!”, and “What you need is a good swift kick!” (I must have been such an angel growing up!) 

   Well, for those of you who have been vying for the kick, it finally came this week! I just returned last night from a ten day stay at a friend’s ranch in Northeast Texas. Now I’ve visited this ranch a time or two before, and I’ve heard the stories that go with working cows in corrals. But this past week I decided to make a few stories of my own.

   My first and most recent cow tale almost came at the expense of my right arm! We had been driving some cows into a corral so we could separate the ones that needed to be sold from the keepers. As we ran them in I was almost run over by a bull the size of a two story building! But being the nimble fella I am he stood no chance at catching me. As we drove them in a heifer tried to jump the barbed wire fence and got her leg caught. So we set to the task of freeing her and getting her in the corral. As my buddy Dan’s dad held on to the head to keep her from running I grabbed for the free legs which by now were kicking like crazy! Unfortunately I never realized that I only had two hands and there were three free legs! I did wind up catching that third leg though…right across my right forearm! Now I know what you’re thinking, “I bet you changed from rancher to sailor real quick didn’t you?” But I’m glad to say that no swear word departed my lips. Probably, because I immediately got that queasy, I’ve-got-to-pass-out feeling. Luckily I only came out of it with a scratch and a bruise!