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My near-death experience involving cows and Karen Carpenter
Published:
12/6/2011 7:30 AM
Last Modified:
12/5/2011 8:12 PM
Calf was, as the name implies, a calf -- much like this one, only black. And in the middle of a road, not a pasture, the latter of which is more typical. JAMES GIBBARD/ Tulsa World
I almost butchered a cow with my car the other morning.
Upon leaving Rancho de los Johnstons, the real name of which I've changed to protect its owners' reputations, I was driving back on ... Lord and GPS only know, like, 2,001st Street? Anyway, driving and singing along with the Carpenters' Christmas album, I spied a black calf on the wrong side of the fence -- and, even more wrong, in the middle of the road.
I slowed down to a near crawl, then honked several times at Calf, who bounded off the road and near a ditch by the fence, where his/her family and friends had gathered to watch the potential carnage.
Eying the driveway up ahead on the right, I assumed whatever occupants inside the red brick house might care that a calf is roaming up and down 2,001st Street unchaperoned, so I pulled in.
Keep in mind, I've only had ONE cup of coffee by this point, my hair wasn't washed yet, and I had on a big bulky jacket I found five years ago for $6 at Gap. I totally would NOT open the door for me. But I parked in the driveway, walked slowly toward the door (so as not to alarm any occupants who might be watching me from the window with a loaded gun) and knocked on the door. No answer. Did it again to the same effect.
Meanwhile, what I assume to be a garbage truck stopped on the road, and a guy hollered out, "You got a calf loose!"
"It's not mine," I replied, apparently too softly, as the guy kept staring, then repeated, "You got a calf loose," pointing back down the road.
"Oh, OK! Thanks!" I screamed, and he drove off. After one more knock, I gave up, frustrated and scared for poor Calf. I mean, what kind of person leaves cows running around a field alone?
Seriously, though, I realized I was in a pickle. Or maybe a jam. Some kind of canned item with a potential for disaster.
Anyway, I'm actually wondering aloud, "How am I gonna fit this cow in the back of my car?" I don't have any rope, which I assume is necessary when coaxing cattle into your car. But I did have a linen scarf that might work. I mean, not aesthetically, but I could lasso it or ... Good Lord, this cow's gonna die.
I got back in my car and closed the door, right as someone in a big white truck pulls up in the driveway. Thinking it's the owner, I pull off to the side so he can pull up beside me or drive quickly to the barn to fetch the calf-herding device or whatever was needed to rescue my bovine buddy.
Out bounds a young guy in a cowboy hat (no, the metaphor is NOT lost on me), whose hands were delightfully free of firearms.
"Is anyone home?" he asked.
"No," I responded. "I knocked twice."
"I'll go see if I can ____ it," he said. I don't know if he said "rope," "catch" or "pet" it, but I got the impression Cowboy meant no harm to Calf.
"OK," I said in a deeper voice than usual -- like he was gonna be convinced the guy standing before him with curly hair, epaulets on his jacket and "Merry Christmas, Darling" blaring in the background was in familiar territory. He might've bought it if it wasn't for the blue-and-turquoise linen lasso.
By the time I turned my car around and Karen finished singing her song, Cowboy had stopped and, it seems, been reassured by another guy in a truck that had stopped to help that Calf was OK -- and back on the right side of the fence. With a sigh of relief and a "Thank you, God," I went on my way. Even without enough caffeine, that put a smile on my face.
So next time you spy an animal in need, I hope you take the time to stop and help it. I also hope someone who knows what he or she is doing pulls up beside you immediately so you, too, can experience a happy ending -- "happy ending" as in "fairy tale," not "shady massage parlor."
Peace, love and calf-rescuing cowboys ... XOXO
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Retired TPS in Texas
(last year)
You did the right thing, Jason. Good job!
PrayingHam
(last year)
Now, how did Chris Trail get into this story?
Chainsaw
(last year)
That made me smile.
annalee
(last year)
Love me some Jason Blog first thing in the morning!
Daniel Day Simpson
(last year)
Well, us college buds did hit a cow just north of Okmulgee on the B-line. The local shire reeve showed up and quickly informed us that there wsa no way to track the owner. We killed it real goood. Bill, who was in the passenger seat, just remembers waking up to the image of a cow's head across the windshield as blood splattered on his side window. After we stopped, the last thing the cow did while alive was to poop from from bumper to back on Bill's side. It hit the rear quarter panel real hard and the gas fill nozzle stuck out like a hard on. After the reeve told us he couldn't do much, he did offer to call the OHP. Evidently they said a trooper would be there in about 3 hours. We just waited. In the mean time, an old Black man shows up in a dented station wagon. He gets out, goes to the back and opens up the tailgate. He spreads out a nice selection of carving knives and starts to sharpen them old school style. He says, "Youse boys are gonna take mama some mighty fine bbq meat tonight if you wants it." Our driver then looks at us and asks each one if we intend to see what the man is planning to do to the cow right then and there on the middle of US 75. We voted unanimously to go into Okmulgee and get accident papers from the sheriff dispatcher and go on our way. So we loaded up and went into Okmulgee to the sheriff's office. There was your stereotypical drunk Indian sitting in the first holding cell. We went up to the window and asked for the forms. The nice lady said, "Oh, your those college boys from the cow crash, hold on for a moment the sheriff wants to ask you something." "Base to unit 1, those boys are here." "Ok base, ask them boys if they want to come back out here and get some fresh meat for their moms." "We look at her and reply, no thanks mam." She calls back out and tells the sheriff. He then replies, "Mabel, wake up the trustees and give them the key to the pickup and tell them to come out 3 miles north on US 75. Tell them I have about 300 lbs in beef for the cook. Also wake up Henry and tell him what we have coming in, he may want to use some of it for tomorrow."
We got back into our car and headed back to McAlester where we also had Karen Carpenter playing along with Doobie Brothers, Beach Boys, Christopher Cross, and Supertramp.
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Living Wright
While other kids were watching "The Smurfs," Scene Writer Jason Ashley Wright was tuned in to "Style with Elsa Klensch." By fourth grade, he knew he wanted to write, and spent almost three years publishing a weekly teen-oriented magazine, Teen-Zine -- circulation: 2. After earning a degree in journalism from the University of Southern Mississippi, he became the medical reporter and teen board coordinator for the Hattiesburg (Miss.) American, a Gannett newspaper. Eight months later, with visions of Elsa dancing in his head, he applied for the fashion writer position at the Tulsa World, where he began working on Aug. 3, 1998. He is now a general assignment reporter for Scene.
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