Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Drive - A Memoir 108th Installment

the chickens were in. While we worked, the Old Man had rewired another electric fencer to the highest amperage and stretched a 1/8 inch steel cable around the inside of the corral fence. When finished we had a twenty by twenty foot log fence with three sides built against the cinderblock shop. We’d also run lots of water in the corral to make the ground wet. Back at Ted’s place, we tied a third rope to the bull and the back bumper of the pickup truck. Vernon led out slowly, and Ted and Alfred controlled the other two ropes from their horses on each side. We paraded home, and it took over an hour to go a mile. It took another hour to of work and planning, but we got the bull in its new enclosure, and as it was getting late, we turned on the electricity. Even before we started milking the bull decided it wanted out and charged the fence. Hitting the electric cable there was sizzle and the smell of burnt hair. The bull’s bellow echoed through the trees. The animal turned and hit the fence on the other side and was shocked again. The bull made several more tries at the pole fence getting repelled each time by the electric wire. The bull stared at the small open window in the side of the shop. The stupid bull went for it, and with a leap at the end of his charge, the bulls head fit through, but the massive shoulders did not. Amazingly, the wall cracked from the ground to the roof line, but the wall held. Lucky for us the demented animal didn’t try again, because, I think, in a few more wallops he could’ve knocked the block building down. Well, that would’ve been okay. Maybe the roof would’ve fallen on the beast and killed the bull for us.

Well into the night we would hear the bellows as the bull tried to escape. In the morning the exhausted animal lay in the middle of the corral, and after that he would stay in the center, far from the wall, the fence, and especially the wire.

A couple weeks later the bull was loaded in a Flying “~U~” Ranch semi-truck and was gone. Good riddance, I thought. We didn’t have the equipment or the will to handle such a brute.

Chapter 31
Amber told me that they are going to have a late summer jack rabbit drive next Saturday at Helm’s place,” Edith informed us. “Want to go?”

Duh,” I said.

Saturday Russ and I grabbed the 1938 International pickup, checked the oil, and raced up to the Helm’s place for the jack rabbit drive. We’d made two great clubs, a 3 ½ – foot bludgeoning club and a short thick throwing stick. Russ and I had been to a few drives in the last couple of years. They’d drawn a lot of people and were well planned, netting tens of thousand jackrabbits.
500 more words tomorrow

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