Like Jimmy, but with cattle

Howdy friends and neighbors. Just when you think you have seen it all, man, do I have a good one to tell. You’ll have to read this one all the way through. I actually had cows stuck on an island in Sunny Point Oklahoma! The last few days on the ol’ Tucker homestead have been a little hectic with tornados near by, raining buckets, water gaps out galore, shipping big yearlings in knee deep mud, and a cat in heat somewhere in the old barn. Somewhere in all that I neglected the cow herd a bit. But all the cows are belly deep in green grass with growing calves with milk mustaches at their sides and a new, young, stout bull to make fun of and gossip about. They have full ponds of fresh water, the better part of a salt block left and the flies aren’t too bad yet. They’re basically in “cruise control.”

As I was racing (as fast as ol’ tan would race) by the pasture the last few days, I hadn’t noticed my herd on the front side of the “Mosley Place.” (Here’s another of my tangents, if you’re unfamiliar with the ranching way of legal descriptions, parcels are named after previous owners, topography, unique features, or the geographical location of the property in relation to the headquarters; i.e., “Pitts place, Red hills, Buffalo Walla, or Down south.”) That morning we had loaded some cattle trucks and gathered steers from another pasture fairly problem free (less and except ol’ tan had a clutch linkage malfunction and we added to our collection of rare and unique dents). We then loaded a few more trucks with some “graze out” yearlings that weighed a bit more than anticipated and successfully sent them on their way to true market discovery. At which point I thought things had slowed down a bit and I would put an end to an early day by checking the herd. Just a quick trip to the pasture and a whale of the chrome plated siren to start the cows’ rendition of the Kentucky Derby. Drop a few piles of cake; give them a good looking over as per the latest OSU fact sheet, and back to the house for some supper. (Dinner in this part of the world is at noontime!) But my beloved beauties were no where to be found, not even any fresh – well, we’ll say tracks to be found. Alas, they’re across the pond. This I where I discovered a scene I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. The pond was full and the spillway was running about a foot deep. There are two flooded creeks that feed this pond (for my Texas readers, “tank”) that appeared to be neck deep in water. The creeks form a horseshoe and a property fence on the backside flanked my herd in. Again my cows were stuck on an island in Western Oklahoma! Another funny, I was on the phone with a friend discussing my brilliant marketing strategies on how to send margin call to Chicago when the discovery was made and he thought I had been in the ol’ vaccine fridge a little to early.

Alas, a plan! I would go get my Japanese horse, “Honda,” run around the section and into my neighbor’s empty pasture, let the fence down, have my dad in ol’ tan with the chrome plated siren call the refugees across the fence, up the creek to another dam, across that dam and back through a gate to my side of the fence. Brilliant! Honda made it across the neighbor’s pasture just fine, but Dad, one ton ol’ tan and a full feed box found themselves axel deep to a Ferris wheel on top of a red rock hill! Stuck big time. I told Dad not to go anywhere as I continued my brilliant plan. As I was loosing daylight, I noticed the alleged stranded cows were appearing on the mainland. They all swam out to witness the “mud-bogging.” Why them sorry no good #@$%^ had me fooled.

It only took two trips to the machine shed to pull ol’ tan and the first tractor out of the miss-placed swamp. After an embarrassing phone call to my neighbor and a promise I would fill in the huge ruts (when it dries out a bit) we headed to the house. (Personally, I hope I can’t fill those ruts in for several years, but again this is Sunny Point and it will probable be dry enough next week.)

An ex-Sunny Pointian turned South Texan, my good friend Marshall, will simply not believe that we got a pickup and a tractor stuck and lost a mud boot and a clevis in mud on top of a red rock hill while trying to rescue cows stranded on an island in Sunny Point, Oklahoma. Next time, I’m just going to get a lawn chair, a 12-pack of Coronas, some limes and a Jimmy Buffet CD and join them cows on the beach.

I’m Monte Tucker, and that is what’s under my beach hat. Hey! Where the heck is my shaker of salt!!!!