It was the late 80’s or early 90’s, I don’t remember exactly; I was at the top of my field with enough strength and testosterone to take on the world. I was working in Europe and all over North America, my hubris had not caught up with me and I thought I would live forever. It would take twenty years before I would realize my own mortality; but at this time, there was no one in the world who could stand against me, no one.
I could buy two ranches in one year, I drove the most expensive automobiles and had an office with several women to keep me pointed in the right direction; in other words, I was a complete fool and played the role to the max.
It was mid-winter and I was on the road East of Merritt headed for Calgary. I was driving an S series Mercedes and fueling up at a truck stop. A young cowboy walked up and asked if he could ride with me into Calgary.
His hair was a little too long and his clothes were nearly worn out, it wasn’t a fashion statement, it was from work on a ranch. He wore moose hide moccasins with rubber over shoes, his belt and rodeo buckle were older than he was.
In a matter of seconds, I took a measure of the boy using the same skill that I use to size up a horse, a skill has kept me alive with thousands of horses.
“Do you smoke or drink?” I asked.
“I don’t smoke, but if you want to have a drink, I’ll drink with you”, he answered with a smile.
I grinned and thought to myself, he was the real McCoy, a spitting image of myself almost twenty years earlier. “Throw your tack in the trunk, we leave in a few minutes”, I told him.
He pulled a blanket roll and a pack from an early 50’s model pick up, and after stowing it in the trunk, we hit the road for Calgary.
It was only an hour or so to Kamloops and like all cowboys, we began to talk. He was headed to Calgary to get a wife. He and his dad ranched near Alexis Creek and since a ranch generally runs smoother with a good woman, his dad had figured it was time that his son take a wife so that the two bachelors could concentrate on ranching and less on domestic chores.
It was logic at the most basic level. His dad gave him three hundred dollars and told him to find a wife and be home in two weeks for the calving season. He had heard of the Ranchman’s Bar on the Southside of Calgary and figured it was the best place to find a woman who wanted to be a rancher’s wife.
He asked what I thought of his plans. I asked if he had much experience with women: he told me that he really wasn’t all that knowledgeable about women, but he had the desire and he was strong and nimble.
I told him that he had an excellent starting position; but I had been all over the world and that I knew some things about women that might help him. This got his attention and he became very interested.
I started in on the things that women appreciate, “Women like men with new socks”.
“New socks?” he asked, with a look of disbelief.
I told him to look in my duffel bag and get the package of new socks; take out a pair and put them on and throw those old ones out the window.
Once that little session was over it was like a spring breeze had blown through the truck. He was a good sport about the situation so when we pulled into Kamloops, I took him to a western store and bought him new pair of Wrangler jeans and a couple of western shirts. He was really happy with the new clothes and offered to buy me lunch.
We had a couple of beers with lunch at the diner. Now those of you have never had a beer in Canada, let me tell you, they are considerably more potent than your American beer. None the less, my young cowboy was feeling pretty good by this time and once we were back on the road, he began to play with the electronic seat adjustment. He asked me what every knob was for and was admiring the wood trim in the console and on the dash when he noticed the Mercedes star on the hood.
“What’s that out there?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s my front sight”, I answered.
“Front sight, what do you need a front sight for?” he asked.
“You know, hippies, ner do wells, and hitch hikers”, he looked at me with a bit of skepticism and set the seat back like a barber chair and settled in for a nap.
Wouldn’t you know it, there was a hippie up ahead; sitting on his suit case strumming on his guitar. I pushed the throttle halfway to the floor and the new Mercedes roared to life with the front end raised up several inches. My young cowboy became very interested in the action at this point. I adjusted my seat back and looked through the star on the hood lining up the hippie. My cowboy was looking at the hippie and then back at me and becoming more anxious with each second. I was doing over 90 and headed straight for the hippie, who was considering the prospect of running into the trees. My cowboy’s eyes were wide open now and he was looking at me in disbelief. I now had the right wheels on the shoulder and at about 30 feet away from the hippie, I swerved hard to the left to miss the hippie when I heard a thump, thump and a cold blast of air. I turned to look at the cowboy to see what had happened as he was slamming his door shut.
He looked at me with a big grin and said, “You’re gonna have to get your sight adjusted, if’n I wouldn’t have opened the door, we would have missed that last one.”
Now, we really didn’t hit anyone at 90 mph; but it wasn’t from a lack of trying by my young friend.
Thinking you are in control of the situation, and relying on false confidence and arrogance will often leave you in deep trouble. President Obama went into the Health Care Summit with all the confidence and arrogance that he is known for and the Republicans opened the door and knocked him and his democrats right off their seats. Made to look like a fool, he has no one to blame but himself. Being unprepared and taking the other side for granted while relying on past charisma that has dissipated, set up Obama for a disaster. He had his ashes haled in front of the world and had to sit there for hours with the situation running out of control.
A professional horseman for over 50 years, Skook continues to work with horses. Skook has finished an historical novel, Fifty Thousand Years, that traces a mitochondrial line of DNA from 50,000 years ago to the present. The story follows a line of courageous women, from the Ice Ages to the present, as they meet the challenges of survival with grit and creativity. These are not women who whimper of being victims, they meet the challenges of survival as women who use their abilities without excuses or remorse, these women are winners, they are our ancestors.
Fifty Thousand Years is available in paperback and e-book, it is getting great reviews. You can purchase a copy here; Visit me on Facebook.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Dylantheauthor
DONALD i hope you keep that knowledge in a book something so precious in my mind is what is learned from someone inner know how it is coming straight from the soul of the cowboy thank you for sharing
TALLGRASS i suppose you knew that well i will try another one i just wanted to see you smile thank you for answering so gracefully,bye
Don I read the cowlicks on horses every day and make few mistakes with personality types. I explained the technique to several primary teachers, over the years, and they concur that the technique is almost foolproof with young kids.
Bees;
I suspected that such was the case concerning the “vocabulary exchange” . . . as always . . . somewhere in the past I feel confident that there is truth that some such confrontation did actually occur. During my time in the navy, while stationed on the USS Constellation CVA-64 a rather large ship . . . compareable in size to the USS Abraham Lincoln CVN-74 . . . during the height of those dreary days of Viet Nam . . . I was witness to the challenge of right away of the CVA by a group of Anti-War Protestors sporting impressively large sailboats. We were coming in to San Diego Harbor after being at sea for work-up exercises prior to the ships departure for Yankee Station. The sailboats did challenge the CVA . . . no words of warning were passed to the people in the smaller, yet impressive sailboats . . . as the bow wave of the CVA simply brushed them asside like surfers at the beach. The sailboats did not take to the wave like surfers however . . . they tended to wallow in the trough and throw the occupants around like beans in a teacup . . . some of the small craft tending so far over that their bottoms were clear to the sky. Thank goodness there were a few motorized boats there and there was a scramble for the rescue of the people in the water.
From this there is perhaps a simple lesson to be learned . . . That he who makes a bad choice as to where to have a confrontation, whether that be with bear, bull, or woman . . . may indeed find his bottom clear to the sky.
TALLGRASS good lesson for sure what i take from it think of the size of who to confront but i will react maybe to quickly to a bulley who is on those i choose to protect,i learn that from my older sister who was protecting me as youngs children and she would confront any body never looking what size they where she had my admiration totaly it is so good feeling to feel protected as a child well i love your life storys so much more interesthing than mine ,bye
Tallgrass, I read your comment while stuck in non-moving rush hours traffic, I was the only guy laughing insanely. I bet some of those commuters were thinking about calling the guys with white coats and butterfly nets.
I am a rank amateur sailor who has a healthy respect for the difference between a ship and a boat, the phrase, ‘like beans in a teacup’, put me over the edge. The sight of those limousine Liberals being thrown all around in their protest is too funny for words, and thinking of how they showed each other their bruises and cuts put me into hysterics, it’s the little things in life that make it such a big party.
TALLGRASS i hope you still come back here to visit,i have to tell you that i am being almost buried alive with 10 days of snow and winds i shovel a path to be able to get out 3 times and it has been coverd again well if you cant fight it leave it alone ,i’ll wait for the spring to melt 8 feets of my snow ..bye
Hello Bees;
Where are you located to be so blessed by Mother Nature . . . I am in Oklahoma . . . we have had a rougher winter this year than in a long time . . . but I doubt if we can compete with you.
Yes, I will be here, everyday I check in to see what is going on and see what everyone has been up to.
Thanks for being so kind and thinking about me.
TALLGRASS i am north close to atlantic ocean a bit southwest of NEWFOUNDLAND as you know i cant be more precise come back bye
@Tallgrass:
Thanks for your service, my dad always said it took a special breed to serve on a submarine, a childhood friend of his proved his point.
Our neighbor’s oldest son was on the USS Scorpion, never got to meet him, he was already serving when his parents moved into our neighborhood. I’ll never forget the pain his family went through as they were coming to terms with that tragedy. I know there was an investigation but shortly after they found the sub I left to join my ex at Ft. Bragg, and was gone for a few years. There were theories but, his father was believing the USSR did it, don’t know if anything ever changed his mind, they moved out of state before we got back.
Would that be one of the chilling experiences you and your fellow crew members endured on top of being submerged in an ocean full of life threatening hazards?
@Donald Bly:
When that vet pulled on that glove was when I started to get a clue that it wasn’t going to be a good experience. Davenport, IA?
@ Missy
Davenport Washington, populaton about 1,700. After being involved in the preg testing of 1,000’s upon 1,000’s of cattle… I know why I never became a gynecologist.
HI DONALD BLY what do you think of the govrnment taking 10 millions of acres of land in MONTANA all the way to NEW MEXICO for reason of kind of sanctuary for animals i had an idea that it could be for installing thoses green towers [i forgot the name] in the near future,bye
@Donald Bly:
I was just curious because we get on I-80 at Davenport, IA when we go to our farm in Missouri.
We tried to raise cattle down there once. My hubby’s farmer friend talked him into it, it was a joint venture and the friend was going to teach him everything he needed to know about raising cattle, he had visions of my hubby eventually becoming a Missouri cattle baron.
Shortly after hubby agreed to try it the farmer went to the sale barn and bought 14 pregnant cows, real cheap. The cows were older than dirt, missing teeth, but because they would calve, we all would make money off the calves, the cows would go back to the salebarn and McDonalds would buy them.
One of many problems with this was, my husband was scared to death of the cows. He even asks me to get out of the truck first when a possum or coon is loitering about in our yard, he isn’t fond of having feral cats living under our porch here in Illinois either, they might…get him. I was trapping the cats a couple of weeks ago and caught a coon, had to let that sucker out of the trap myself, hubby watched out of the patio door to make sure I was safe.
Thirteen of the cows had their calves, one was stolen and we waited and waited for the last one to be born. The farmer had gone out to the pasture, loaded her up and put her in one of those tubular type pens at his house, she finally had her calf and we were down there at the time. He called us to come over, hubby asked him, now what do we do? “Well you have to milk her and bottle feed the calf.”
I knew that wasn’t going to be good, no way would my husband milk that cow. His friend roped her, she started rearing up, kicking, snorting, one ornery cow, hubby was white as a sheet. Then he wrapped the rope around the top rail of the pen and handed the end of the rope to my husband to hang on to. Then he roped one of her back legs and held it so she couldn’t kick anymore. My job was handing the bottle to his wife after she got in the pen and she milked the cow and fed the calf. I think my job would have been much better for hubby, but I don’t know if I could have held on to that rope.
After that incident, he decided no more cows, told the farmer he could have the cow and calf. The cow went to the salebarn and the farmer’s daughter took the calf to raise, we later found out the calf was blind.
This friend was also involved in my skunk incident that had an unfortunate ending, he also set our hayfields on fire, accidently. Something you don’t want happening when the fire department only has one moth eaten truck that’s already out on a call. But, he has taught hubby a lot about farming and farm animals. Don’t know if he will ever put all these lessons into action, don’t think I’m really looking forward to it if he does.
Missy;
The loss of life of any submariner does not go forgotten: The Submariners Prayer . . . a poem of dedication . . . written long ago in the days of wooden ships and iron men:
I have one consolation that lives with me today.
That God is near to them, in his own special way.
So God in all Your mercy, keep near Thyself the soul,
Of every Submariner, still on his final patrol.
Lord, this departed shipmate with Dolphins on his chest
is part of an outfit known as the best.
Make him welcome and take him by the hand.
You’ll find without a doubt he was the best in all the land.
So, heavenly Father add his name to the roll
of our departed shipmates still on patrol.
Let them know that we who survive
will always keep their memories alive.
Fear and stress are part of any military occupation . . . from the REMF (Rear Echolon Members Force) to the front line grunt. Loss of a submarine an always mysterious occurance. The most formal of investigation in all its objectivity is ultimately reduced to conjecture and rationalization of implications. To this day . . . no one . . . truly . . . no one knows with 100% confidence what happened to the two nuclear boats that the US lost during the cold war . . . The USS Thresher and the USS Scorpion. Submarines are a stealth weapon . . . this requires being totally passive . . . never transmitting any active signals that can be detected by the enemy. Thus on the missile boats we never, ever, ever transmitted a radio or sonar signal . . . we only listened. Even upon receipt of an actual order to launch nuclear weapons would not have been acknowledged. Think about what this means . . . that is the only order that the boat would receive that we would NOT say Aye-Aye before we did it, period. We would have done our duty and sent the missiles toward the target.
The Scorpion was returning to the US from deployment in European waters . . . A “Med Run” . . . she was lost near the Azores on her way home. No one knows what happened to cause her to be lost. Yes, many books and lots of really interesting stories circulate about her trip home . . . but no one knows for sure.
Lots of things can go wrong on a submarine . . . some just failures, some due to mistakes, some due to the situation . . . and those are the things that can kill ya. When at sea . . . the lives of every man is truly in the hands of every man. The crew of a submarine is much closer than brothers. The ultimate trust-confidence relationship . . . perhaps similar to that between troops under fire in a war zone.
So from my heart I can only tell you that your neighbors son . . . his life was not lost in vain . . . and he most certainly was with his brothers. I as a submariner will never forget his loss and sacrifice.
Tallgrass, i remember reading about the Thresher or Thrusher, for some reason that loss affected me as a young person.
To think that the Manufactured Man has control of that power is disheartening.
I am proud to have you as a cyber friend.
TALLGRASS i like the prayer and the expert explanation thank you for that ,,,MISSY i can understand your husband fear he was out of his way it was not for him to be a farmer and it seems that if he would have continue to farm he could have been hurt badly or more ,it’s that feeling of fear is telling of the possible danger .when are you going to tell the skunk story?sound a good story to know bye thank you
@ Missy
One can’t be afraid of animals and be a successful rancher. It’s a water and oil mix. I also don’t think that there are many successful ranchers that weren’t involved in the business from a very early age. It’s a lifestyle as much as a business. Many leave the ranch for other professions but the reverse is not typically the case. Ranching is a 365 day a year job working in harsh conditions requiring great outlays of capital in a very risky endeavor.
The skills involved are not limited to animal husbandry. One needs an understanding of banking and finance, contracts, tax law, accounting, knowledge of real-estate, well rounded skills as a mechanic, an ability to innovate and a willingness to endure a great deal of personal discomfort in order to ensure the health and well being of the animals in your charge.
My step-father worked on my father’s cattle ranch. When he ran off with my father’s wife, he began farming a few hours away from my father’s ranch. He would not have stock animals of any kind. It simply wasn’t in his genes. He was a exceptional farmer, he simply did not have the affinity for animals that ranching required nor the desire to be tied to a 365 day a year profession.
I had expected to go into ranching when I reached adulthood but this was not to be in my cards. At 17 I joined the military, and became a part of the United States Army Security Agency, a military arm of the NSA. During my service to Uncle Sam my father lost his 40,000 acre cattle ranch and 3500 head of cattle, not through any inablility to raise cattle and turn a profit . No my father’s loss stemmed from a leasing agreement with a company where we wintered our cattle. Each year we would ship our cattle by rail from their summer feeding grounds in the pan handle of Idaho to the Yakima Valley where they would be wintered on farmland that had the summer previous been used for the production of corn and other farm crops. Unfortunately the company which he leased the land from went into receivership with 20 million in debt. Although it was a simple lease agreement, something in the contracts led the court to the conclusion that a partnership arrangement existed and the judicial system went after his assets. All was lost because of an interpretation of some clause in a contract.
Perhaps providence was guiding my decision to join the military. I recieved the best electronics training available anywhere in the world and was privy to work on state of the art equipment. I am to this day still amazed at what we were capable of and could I describe what we did back then, it would seem an amazing feat to this day, 40 years later. But, since everyone within my unit, including even the cooks, required a top secret clearance, it is a subject which I cannot discuss.
Yes I never got to test my hand at the helm of a ranch but I have no regrets about my decision to join the military. My only regret was that I did not accept the slot I was offered at the West Point Prep School, an offer that was made because of my high OCT scores. Unfortunately at the age of 17 a ten year committment seemed like an eternity and I lacked the maturity to understand the value that such an opportunity presented. I thought I’d be doing my four years and going home to the ranch. There is an irony though, as I ended up spending seven years in the Army. I attained the rank of SSGT/E6 by the age of 22 and after enduring the final 4 years of my service under Jimmy Carter as our CIC, I figured I needed see what I could accomplish in the civilian world. Oh well… that’s life.
That is quite a story Donald, the Unintended Circumstances can and do bite you. Now that my race is in the head of the stretch, I too regret turning down offers from the military. Not that I had the grand opportunity that was in your grasp, but a dang good opportunity or two none the less.
Oh well, this wasn’t a dress rehearsal and you play your cards the best you can and hope for the best, thanks for the story.
Missy, everyone has a certain fear of animals, I have no affection for Orcas, I don’t like gators, rats and mice I kill at every opportunity; is it fear or do I just not like these animals? I work with people everyday who have a fear of horses, it’s there at some level. Oh, there are some who are good with horses; but many ride and handle horses in a state of stark terror. It actually makes my work more difficult, having an animal who senses fear in humans, for animals are attuned to sense fear in humans and respond accordingly. Occasionally horses who are used to fearful humans, look at me and they break out in a sweat and quiver, I’ve had a few fall over like you put a bullet in their brain, (they get back up); these horses are scared to death and to see someone who doesn’t fear them puts them into psychological meltdown. Give me a mean horse any day, they are much safer than a scared horse; the mean horse you can befriend, the scared horse is likely to jump on you out of fear or throw himself over backwards and kill himself. Some owners and riders keep their horses on the precipice of a nervous breakdown while the owner wrestles their own personal demons internally.
The point is, we have a certain genetic disposition towards animals and it is foolhardy to try and be more of an animal person than we really were programmed to be. I know, for instance, that I can’t wrestle a Grizzly and win; so therefore, I try to avoid this scenario whenever possible. I hope this helps you with your husband.
Missy, you are a lot of fun and I enjoy reading your stories.
@Tallgrass:
Definately the best! Thank you for sharing the poem, your thoughts and opinions of that tragedy.
After all the years that have past, this morning I started thinking about the connections that never dawned at the time.
My father, his friend Ken, and Mr. Chandler worked together for 40 years. After leaving, I stopped thinking about what they must have been going through…selfish. Dad commented occasionally through the years, but I never once thought to talk to Ken or thought to care about what impact it had on him, we had only known him since the day we were all born. Summing it up, selfish, thoughtless and uncaring. Now they are all gone, there’s only assumptions and wondering left to think about. How they must of closed ranks, comforted and leaned on each other to help Mr. Chandler. Wish I could know.
There’s so much we are left without as family members pass, I do hope you, Skookum and others that have contrubuted so much to us here do put your thoughts and experiences to paper.
Good, bad or indifferent, someone is going to want to know, that is, when they finally grow up.
CHEYENNE, Wyo. — The principles of “cowboy ethics” are now part of Wyoming law.
Gov. Dave Freudenthal signed legislation Wednesday adopting an official Wyoming state code.
The symbolic measure spells out 10 ethics derived from a “Code of the West” outlined in a book by author and retired Wall Street investor James Owen.
The ethics code carries no criminal penalties and is not meant to replace any civil codes.
The state code admonishes residents and lawmakers to live courageously, take pride in their work, finish what they start, do what’s necessary, be tough but fair, keep promises, ride for the brand, talk less and say more, remember that some things aren’t for sale, and know where to draw the line.
@Skookum:
I don’t like mice either, or snappers and do stay away from the Canadians that are leaving gifts all over our back yard. The farmer tells us they can kill a coyote with their wings if they get them in the water, their flopping wings are like getting hit with a 2X4.
But the skunk deal was an experience that, because of the farmers advice, lasted for a couple of months. Our house on the farm was built to be reconverted into a garage, it doesn’t have a basement, we plan on adding our house onto it and turning it back into a garage. It’s a nice place to stay but not functional for living in it full time.
Went down there for a week, noticed a hole dug under the house, had no idea what did it until my Springer buzzed by with a hint of skunk odor wafting up from her fur, superb, we had a skunk building us a basement. Wondered, if throwing bleach down the hole would offend the skunk enough to make it not want to go back in it. As I tossed a quart jar full of bleach in the hole, the skunk popped it’s head up, all the bleach went on it’s head. I now know that you should wait til evening before messing with skunk holes.
Threw the dog in the car, went into town worrying about the bleach in that skunk’s eyes. Found the mail man and he told me to calm down, that old skunk will be just fine, we just might have a blonde skunk running around. He said to build a trap door that would close after the skunk left the hole. I couldn’t figure it out, every piece of wood we had down there was to big or to small.
Hubby came down that Friday night, the farmer showed up Saturday morning and I told them about the skunk and the trap door idea. The farmer said we didn’t need a trap door, he knew how to take care of the skunk. Great! problem solved, I went grocery shopping. When I got back they were busy mixing cement, made a little apron so nothing could dig back under there again, it was great, it also made a nice new place for the hose cart.
About a month later, hubby had gone down a week early, my turn to travel Friday. It was dark when I pulled in, the house was dark, all the doors and windows were wide open and I smelled a faint skunk odor. Turned around to see hubby slowly walking up from the barn. He said when his friend did away with the skunk, he duct taped the garden hose to his muffler, gassed the skunk, they couldn’t get it out of the hole so they threw dirt in the hole and sealed it with the cement. The bag decomposed, ruptured and he had to sleep in the barn all week because it was horrendous when he got there and wasn’t I glad he had it almost all aired out. Being glad wasn’t quite what was going through my thoughts at the time.
http://www.michaelsavage.wnd.com/files/imagesSavage/100304cowboy.jpg
Missy those are some of those unintended consequences that nip at you now and then.
They did a song about a dead skunk in the middle of the road, you might write one about a dead skunk under your house.
Ain’t life a gas!
Skookum, sounds like the values that my Grand Dad taught me. The ones that America needs to embrace and darn quickly!
SKOOKUM on your no. 58 comment you mention guys with white coat did you mean the doctors who where with OBAMA’s white coats in his speech on the healthcare bill? bye
hi MISSY i am trying to understand on 73 the first line and the beginning of the second line could you explain it to put me under the light ..yes the skunk is always a bad experience i have one too,bye
@ilovebeeswarzone:
We have snapping turtles on our farm in Missouri and Canadian geese roaming around in our back yard here in Illinois, the geese stayed this winter instead of flying south. My neighbor lady feeds them in her back yard and they do their pooing in my back yard.
hi MISSY i must have look stupid to you i was kind of tire over shoveling and i was seeing coyotee with wings and could not figure it out thank you sorry for being stupid only sometimes bye
Hi Missy,
I can sadly relate to your skunk story, having been thoroughly skunked myself, and I can tell you, there is nothing on earth quite like it. I’ve been pepper sprayed, maced, and even had ammonia sprayed in my eyes (quite by accident). Nothing compares to being skunked. I am reminded of the old “Wild Kingdom” episodes with Marlin Perkins in which the fearsome Grisly Bear would nose around the skunk too close and get sprayed, only to be reduced to whimpering and scraping its face against the tree in order to get the smell off.
I had moved up to Michigan and had been in town less then a month before I started noticing the strange pungent smell every time I ventured outside. My wife, a Michigander, told me it was from the skunks. I didn’t pay much attention until one day I had to take the trash down to the curb where the sanitation trunk would come by. Other people had already deposited their trash there, and I saw what I thought was a black cat digging through one of the bags. When I approached, the cat didn’t run off, but continued digging for morsels. Although I thought that was odd that it didn’t scamper away, I wasn’t paying much attention. It was cold, and all I wanted to do was deposit the trash and go back to the house where it was warm. When I bent over to drop the bag, the “cat” stuck its tail up in the air and sprayed me right in the face!
I forgot all about the cold. In fact I was completely disoriented. I couldn’t see; I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t even tell you what happened to the skunk. I somehow managed to make it back to the front porch of the house, calling for my wife to come out. She did, but then she went right back inside. From behind the door she shouted for me to take off the clothes I was wearing and then come inside. Wearing only my underwear, I was immediately hustled to the downstairs bathtub and doused with cans of tomato juice. So there I sat in abject misery, drenched in tomato juice, still choking out breaths and rubbing my eyes. Even though my clothes never made it inside, the entire house reeked of skunk for days. I will never, ever forget it.
So my advise to anyone encountering a skunk: Get away, fast! They don’t mess around, and they have a near perfect self-defense mechanism. They are not to be trifled with, as I can attest to, as can that hapless Grisly Bear on “Wild Kingdom”. Indeed, it is singularly amazing such a small creature can render such a larger creature so completely helpless. Part of God’s grand design I suppose, ’cause I doubt there are too many creatures that will mess with a skunk.
MRARIELL you had me feeling so bad until your wif came out the door and right back in telling you to take your appareil out i could not hold my laughter bye
@mrariell:
Oh, my goodness! Two of our dogs were sprayed and we could hardly stand to open the back door to feed them for days. Getting it full force in the face had to be the worst experience in your life. Even when you pass by a dead skunk on the road it that awful smell gets sucked up in your car, it had to be all over your house. It definately wasn’t a kitty.
@ilovebeeswarzone:
No, I didn’t think that, sometimes my punctuation and wording aren’t quite right, that’s what I thought it was. Most in here are sooo patient.
Bees, the men in white coats with butterfly nets is a cartoon image from the 60’s and 70’s that was frequently used to portray psychiatric therapists. The fore runners of Larkin of the Far Side Cartoon series. I was once a struggling cartoonist, and this was one of my unoriginal images. Maybe I will sneak an old one in now and then, I was strictly outdoors and dogs, my favorite subjects. It’s a good thing i got out of the business, the new artists are really good.
The image of flying coyotes is nice, that would be some great wing shooting, the heck with ducks and geese, I want to hunt flying coyotes. What kind of dog do you use as a retriever? They would make quite a splash if you shot them over water. I love hunting, flying coyotes could be cross over hunting, sort of a cross between bird hunting and big game hunting.
My humor might pass you by now and then, but if you ask, I will explain. I will never laugh at a friend, I want to laugh with you! You’re a good sport with a great attitude.
last year i saw a unusual happening a bit down away on the cows land, a 3 days action first day;i call my neighboard to tell his dog is loose;after a fews hours i look in my window to see 2 young DEERS in the midle of snowey cow path in the after noon ;it seems weard to see they probably have been scare by the dog who is back on his rope; the next day early mornig i see 3 eagles eating a deer and i make 2 and 2 and duddenly i coyote arrive to be chase by the eagle [he look like a flying coyote] and the next morning there are 5 coyotes eating on the probably next deer ,so that was somes actions here,bye we dont get that usuly
Bees you are becoming a keen observer of wildlife, this represents nature as it has been for eons. Civilization is but an intrusion to the animals. Your next step is to get some photos and eventually some video to share with us. I suggest you chronicle your nature sightings, to keep your memory fresh for decades.
You were lucky to see such good scenes of nature! Keep observing.
TALLGRASS the sun has finaly arrive it some beautifull seeing thetrees sparkling with icecly all over and yes i shovel some more quite a bit just now so the company where i buy my dog food will be able to bring my 3 of 40 pounds bags although he will have to walk one foot in front of the other to get to my door ,bye
TALLGRASS you said you where ging to visit here every day,i am just checking and also saying good night bye
Bees;
It is good that a sense of togetherness, of friendship, of concern exists between people that live in such diverse locations and have never met face to face. I think this is the true sprite of the human animal, that our natural instinct is first to view another as a friend . . . I have travelled to many different places in the world, where I could not speak the language . . . I found in those places actions always, always need no words. A story may add some perspective.
I was part of a group to be invited to the Peoples Republic of China . . . we there on a trade mission, basically investigating buisness opportunities. We traveled by automobile motorcade (5 cars total) from Bejing to Wiefang, Shandong Province. There were many things to see along the way on this trip . . . perhaps the most astonishing to me was . . . the smiles. A smile needs no interpretation it means the same the world over. We were running short of gas and stopped at a service station in the middle of “no where” . . . keep in mind that there really is no place that is the middle of no where in China . . . it was just that this station was not in the middle of a city . . . kind of a station on a highway . . . even this concept is hard to explain . . . China is a very different country. Anyway, we pull into this gas station. We are all piling out of the cars, stretching and stomping about, getting the kinks out from the hours of setting in the car. Out runs the station attendent . . . he is just so excited and smiling ear to ear . . . he has in his hand his tea cup. He is smiling so big . . . he holds his tea cup out to ME. Our interpreter is standing next to me . . . and he says to me . . . “The man is honoring you . . . he is offering you his tea . . . to refuse to drink will insult him.” All the other US guys in the group have this horrified look on their faces . . . one of the US guys walks over to me and says . . . “Do not drink from HIS cup . . . don’t do it . . . it might kill you.” I smile at the gas station guy and take his cup and take a big drink . . . the attendent just keeps smiling and nodding his head . . . when I hand it back to him he gives me a big hug. I can tell I have probably made a life long memory for the station attendent. My compatriots are all horrified . . . some act down right disgusted with me.
Over the next few days . . . everyone . . . but ME . . . gets the screamers. I never got sick, never had an upset stomach . . . never felt the least bit out of normal . . . and I ate and drank so many unidentified foods.
The unitended consequences . . . never bit me in the arse . . . but sure did everyone else!!!
TALLGRASS there always a lesson to take from the wises and i am your friend from the beginning also love to read you i am priviledge to be consider your friend,here is another day of beautyfull sun after not having it for 10 days i appreciate it even more thank you ,bye
Tallgrass, I’d like to think that the China man had a medicinal tea that protected you from the scourge. Irony is often based in obscure truth. A classic story for all time! Thank You.
There were so many eye opening experiences on this trip . . . the one lesson that I learned was . . . “never, never have pre-conceived ideas” . . . preconceptions, stereotypes, categories, fixed ideas . . . when you travel to a foriegn land . . . they are ALL 100% wrong.
We were on a guided trip to see and industrial complex and passed a “troop of school” kids . . . children marching in perfect unison that would certainly rival the military formation during mass troop movements.
I was thinking . . . finally we are seeing the REAL CHINA . . . .
Each of the 10 to 12 year kids had a rake, shovel, hoe or scythe . . . some kind of manual instrument of hard manual labor over their shoulder and they were marching with pride . . . going where . . .
The senior Chinese person with our group begins to chat with our intepreter . . .
After a minute or two . . . the interpreter says . . .
“The school children . . . they are going to work . . . ”
Again I am thinking . . . “Child Labor . . . finally the real China”
The intepreter continues . . . “Not only do we teach the children subjects . . . math, history, geography . . . WE TEACH THEM HOW TO WORK.”
I was shocked . . . “Who the hell ever thought you had to teach kids to work . . . certainly not the Americans . . . So who is progressive in education . . . NOT US”
I was a fortunate man . . . I had a grandfather that taught me how to work . . . .
Thank you grandfather.
TALLGRASS will you watch academy awards tonight /or did you already did? we are not in same times clock i always like to watch that show ,bye i see that you went to a lot of places it gave you a life of many memorys is in it.
SKOOKUM in[ ;FRENCHY”S email order BRIDE;] that is a must look at do not miss it bye
TALLGRASS hi and like the lighthouse mentioned to the captain of the fleet ;;;your call? bye
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2010/03/06/national/main6272920.shtml
Lions and Tigers and Bears . . . stupid people and bears just don’t make good company.
HI TALLGRASS this horrible why would a person at her age be convinced that the bear is not dangerous hard to beleive,even a dog can make you falldown the stairs unintentialy,that bear might have wanted more food,or whatever reason,yesterday i happen to give a portion of apple to my step daughter’s horse and if i was not carefull he would have taken my fingers not out of being mean ,not at all but just to take all the apple,thank you for the link,bye
Tallgrass thanks for the link. I found it to be hilarious: a lesson learned well is a lesson indeed.
Sadly, my friend Knarley’s older brother, who was fairly high up with BC Forestry showed me a short film in the 70’s of a woman who put honey on her grand daughter’s hands so that a black bear yearling could lick it off. The woman filmed it, the first time everything went well so the woman slopped more honey on the young girl’s hands a second time. She held out her hands again and the bear bit off one hand and then bit off the other hand in seconds. To me, condemning a child to live without hands because of your own stupidity was a tragedy. Losing a couple of fingers because of your own stupidity, now that is high comedy. Three Stooges comes to town.
TALLGRASS,hi i am seeing a tv story about GERMAN submarine UBOAT one explode close to canadians shore atlantic ocean in 1942 and another surface to have a spy land on shore, and sometimes later was caught in MONTREAL,i was thinking it might be interesting for you ,bye
TALLGRASS hi hope all is well for you surely you must be to busy theses days to comment with us 🙄 bye
Hey Bees;
I have been here, watching the various posts . . . at the same time I have been kind of of overloaded with everything that is going on . . . all the things with health care . . . the protesting . . . the perspectives of all . . . I watch and hope for the posts by Skookum . . . something to take my mind off the hate that seems to permeate the blob-world. Everything has had me wrapped up . . . like being hugged by a griz I think, lol.
Lately I have been frequenting the blogs over at http://www.grit.com/blogs/blog-landing.aspx . . . the good news of life, lol
Thanks for being aware of me. I will happily invite you to come be my friend on Facebook . . . if you want more info just look me up at Facebook . . . George Thomas . . . Inola, Ok
Ya know, Tallgrass… even as a political author here, I’m with you. Skook takes me away to a better world. Oh but to live in it, as he does daily. In his “in the wild world”, politics pretty much falls by the wayside if he’s guiding a bunch of urban cowboys thru reality.
As a Native American I have been on the receiving end of so many of the things that the world today is seeing as poltically correct. Many people think that socialized medicine is something new . . . it’s not . . . the Native population of the US has been on the end of socialized medicine for many, many years. You need only do a little investigation to see that the subset of people in the US with absolutely the worst statistics in every medical area is the Native American . . . we die younger, we have high infant mortality, we can never get the surgerical needs of the average privately insured . . . the complete list of such treatment in the medical field alone would far exceed the understanding of most US citizens. Consider also that the US Native did not get citizenship until 1924 . . . yep . . . the absolute last ethnic group in the US to get such rights. In the 1960’s, a good friend of mine, who’s grandfather was a World War 1 veteran attempted to get treatment at a VA hospital . . . he was denied treatment . . . and died. Why? Simply because in World War I, a grandfather who fought for HIS country, was NOT a citizen and therefore had NO rights of treatment with the VA. VA treatment was for CITIZENS. I believe that history repeats it’s self . . . it is our destiny.
Funny isn’t that today . . . I . . . as a Native American . . . am exempt from the US Law that requires me to have insurance, lol. I can go to the IHS (Indian Health Service) and die a lot sooner!!! LOL
The stories of Skook remind me of a value system . . . unspoken that it was . . . for it was a life . . . a way . . . it saw us through and kept us safe and secure in our togetherness . . . I remember my past . . . a part of me that is missed and never to be regained . . . lost . . . as is becoming the meaning of freedom.
With Tallgrass’ post I couldn’t resist.
Chief ‘Two Eagles’ was asked by a government official, ‘You have observed the white man for 90 years. You’ve seen his wars and his technological advances. You’ve seen his progress, and the damage he’s done.’
The Chief nodded in agreement.
The official continued, ‘Considering all these events, in your opinion, what did the white man do wrong?’
The Chief stared at the government official for over a minute and then calmly replied.
‘When white man find land, Indians running it, no taxes, no debt, plenty buffalo, plenty beaver, clean water. Women did all the work, Medicine man free. Indian man spend all day hunting and fishing; all night having sex.’
Then the chief leaned back and smiled.
‘Only white man dumb enough’ to think he could improve system like that’.