The years of raising cattle teach you several important facts, probably the number one is that you can never ever guess what is coming on. The storms that come to beef producers are not always predicted by your friendly weatherman.
We have calved the fall cows, the bulls are in with the cows now for next fall's crop.The spring-bred cows are all with calf and we culled the open cows. The steers were loaded and hauled to the feed lot, and the yearling heifers are on good grass and growing. We are bunk breaking the retained steers and they have all the feed and hay they can eat. All should be just wonderful and I was tired and warm and sleepy. So, I did what any old feller would do in that condition. I went to bed.
My old Pappy warned me about nights like that. He said he figured the devil was walking to and fro and saw that things were too quiet, so he stirred up trouble. My close relative woke me and said that Old Dog was raising Cain out by the barn and I should go see what the trouble was. So, being the sweet and dutiful feller I am, I crawled out and put on my cold clothes and stumbled through the house to the back door.
Old Dog was sure in a snit about something, so I got the .22 and went to see if I could help him. I step pretty gingerly when it is dark and the dog is telling me something bigger than me is out and around. Now, don't get the wrong idea. I ain't afraid of anything. Don't get to thinking that. My bravery almost hangs out when I walk by you on the street! I try to be discreet but it is difficult.
I got to Old Dog and when I touched him he jumped forward and was ready to attack whatever it was. I assured him it was better to wait until I could find it with the flashlight. I then heard the hiss. The dang old possums are moving in for the winter and this one had taken up residence in the corner of the hay stack in the hospital shed. The thing was almost snow white and big as a barrel around the girth.
Possum scat is deadly to horses and, because of that, I kill all of the ones I find. It is not because they are the ugliest critters I ever run into out here in God's country. It is just a good reason to kill all of them!
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, I figure every farm or ranch or, for that matter, every household in the country, should have a good yard dog. Old Dog didn't mind waking up the house and it might have been a cougar or a moose or a convict on the loose. One is as likely as the other. But it was good that I was alerted and got things taken care of! So another problem taken care of by the man of the hour, and I don't even wear a cape!
Remember that locked gates don't keep anyone out.
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette-area author of this weekly column.
Editorial on 12/07/2016