Life has stayed rather busy lately and I’m more tired everyday so my trips around the Favorites have been infrequent. However, this at Tam’s did make me smile. See, our good friend is the cattle cop for the county. Actually, he is a special ranger of the Cattle Raisers Association. Whenever the troopers get a call for cows in the road or a runwaway horse, he gets the call – or one of his associates.
Often Trooper would accompany him on the calls, ensuring traffic was kept back or clear of the livestock. The man would pull up in his truck, his horse in a trailer behind. That horse could practically do the job alone. With a sure knowledge acquired through decades of work, the man could get any animal to do what he wanted.
Too, trooper could herd with his patrol car quite well. He had one horse running the wrong way on a major 4 lane road. As he turned around on it, the horse seemed to understand, running ahead a bit only to finally turn and head the other direction – at least with traffic, now – running for all it had. The horse slowed, finally, and Trooper was able to hit the squawk just enough to keep it in the emergency lane. It turned into a driveway and it was home. An old woman came out, greeting him, and asking if he could get it into the pasture. Of course. The uniform includes boots for a reason.
To repeat a tale previously related –
Trooper was a little tuckered out and moving slow, eating his breakfast as a call went out on the radio to the locals – a pony running free in the roadway. Cackling, he grabs his cell and reaches dispatch as the green Deputy accepts the call on the radio.
“I’ll pay you $5 to get on the radio and say the pony’s name is Wildfire…” It wasn’t 5 seconds later…”Complainant advises pony’s name is Wildfire.” You could almost hear the laughter across the county and the young guy does NOT put it together. On scene, he even confirmed with the owners that the name was, indeed, Wildfire so that he could accurate note it in the report. Word is they just looked at him. It wasn’t until he had closed out the call and was in office asking, “What did it matter what its’ name was…oh, damn it!”
For those of you not getting the joke because you’re too damned young – pardon the earworm:
This is just how things are done in a place where you’ve as many cows as people. You call in the cow, you report the horse, and someone ensures the creature is returned to its proper place eventually. You do what you can for the people you serve because it is a small town and they know you, they know your family, and they expect you to be a decent person.
Find a small town and get there. My best advice…