Gavel Gamut By Jim Redwine
MOOrauders
Peg and I bought a cabin on the prairie in Osage County, Oklahoma. It came furnished with bovines who appear to have formed a four-legged resistance to destiny as Big Macs. When we visited recently we drove across the cattle guard and were met by the steely gaze of the Leader of the Pack. He was mainly black but had a white Mark of Cain on his left jaw and sharp hooves which he pawed into the dirt as he snorted fire through his flaring nostrils.
Having grown up in cow country I was able to recognize that neither the Lead Steer nor any of the others retained the necessary accouterments for bulls. Therefore, I advised Peg to relax as I directed her to get out of the pickup and wade through the herd to open the gate. Peg’s response will not be published! I eased open my door and took an aggressive stance as I met the Leader’s glare while I opened the iron gate.
Hurrying back to the truck I jumped in and sped through the herd while blaring the horn. Apparently, Johnny Kelley who owns the cattle uses the horn and siren of his feed truck to announce it’s dinner time. Instead of driving the cows off the horn enticed the Leader to menacingly advance toward us along with thirty of his gang.
We managed to negotiate our way up to our cabin and slip inside as the hungry cattle voiced their displeasure with our behavior. Peg and I barricaded ourselves inside the cabin as the Leader circled his troops around it. We waited for nightfall hoping the cattle were on an eight-hour workday and that when darkness came the cows would bed down.
Just after the moon appeared and bathed the prairie with silver light I cautiously opened the cabin door and was chagrined to see the Leader fixated on my position. His backup troops were edging their way up to the four newly set cedar posts that hold up the overhang attached to our new barn. As the cattle began to scratch their seven hundred plus pound bodies against the obviously challenged posts I knew something had to be done. I hollered for Peg.
Peg loudly yelled something that sounded like a word describing a cow byproduct as she shoved me outside with a blanket to shoo away the bold bovines. I noticed the blanket was red as Peg slammed the cabin door behind me.
Gingerly making my way toward Leader Steer I yelled and flapped the blanket. Whether the Leader would bolt or charge was highly in doubt until I remembered an old McDonald’s television commercial that I began to sing as loudly as my scared vocal cords would allow:
“You deserve a break today!
So get out and get away
To McDonald’s!â€
Then I shouted, “Two all beef patties or get away from my barnâ€. Upon reflection, Leader must have decided I wasn’t worth the effort as he unceremoniously turned his backside toward me and sauntered away with his subjects in tow. Of course, he may have just found my singing, not to his liking; everyone’s a critic. Now, Gentle Reader, if someone will just come to rescue us, Peg and I can leave the cabin and head back to Indiana where most cattle know their place.
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