Imagine the header clinging to the rack on the back of a flat-bed, chasing
a cow across the high plains of Colorado with the hazer banging along
beside him in a quarter-ton Ranger with a vet-box in the bed.  Cowboy
stories are about wrecks; horse wrecks, cow wrecks, dog wrecks, financial
wrecks, Tyranosaurus Wrex, and flat-bed, mad cow,
Ranger-with-a-vet-box-in-the-bed, wrecks!
Rancher Tom had Dr. Stan-the-Man out to his place.  Whilst there, they
spotted a cow with a big lump on her jaw.
“Better lance it,” suggested Doc to Tom, “Ya never know.”
It was getting late, no way to gather the bunch.  “Just rope her” said Doc.
Tom put his son, Junior, in the back of the flat-bed.  Son had been roping
since high school and Dad figured maybe he could reap some payback for all
the miles, horses and entry fees it had cost haulin’ him to junior rodeos
since he was 12!
Tom got the cow runnin’ down the tracks of the feed wagon.  Junior was
leanin’ out like a flag pole on the Titanic!  The deck rocked violently as
Tom swerved and slid to stay on the left side of the cow.  In one wild
lunge, when the flat-bed hit a dip and came off the ground, Junior threw
his loop!  “A beeyootiful catch!” thought Tom, as he turned off and
watched the slack go out of the rope.
Back on the deck Junior realized he had about as much control of the
situation as he would have ropin’ a doggin’ steer off a bareback bronc…no
place to dally!
They regrouped.  “I’ll try and run over the draggin’ rope with a tire!”
said Tom.
Junior clambered back on the flat-bed and Dr. Stan lined up on Tom’s right
side.  Across the plains they flew!  Tom chased that rope, duckin’ and
divin’, sluicing and careening in hot pursuit like a pinball machine gone
haywire!
The cow reached a cross fence and turned in front of the flat-bed.  Tom’s
right front tire caught the rope at the same time that Dr. Stan, who was
hazing, hit the fence, cutting off her escape!
It took several minutes to heel the cow, restrain her and untangle Doc’s
windshield wipers, side mirrors and antennae from the bob wire.  They
congratulated themselves for the great job, as only cowboys would do after
such a successful wreck.  Oh, and the abscess popped itself in the
collision, so lancing was not necessary.  Talk about efficient!  They all
took credit, of course, and Doc sent’em a bill for consulting and
navigation.
 Baxter Black is a self-described cowboy poet, ex-veterinarian and sorry team roper. He can be contacted at 1-800-654-2550 or by e-mail at:
headcowboy@baxterblack.com