Games Rednecks Play

My dad has a toy. Can you guess what it is?

I'll give you some hints.

It's so exciting that the whole family loaded up to come see the excitement.

It makes a really loud noise.

So much so that you feel the need to duck and cover every time he uses it. And he required every grandkid to have a set of ear protection...

It's guaranteed to kill large amounts of rodents in a few seconds.

It can make the ground shake beneath your feet.

It involves an explosion...


Can you guess what my dad's toy is?

It's called a prairie dog gun. He and 3 of his friends went together on the purchase of it after a traveling salesman (did you know they still have those?) did a demonstration for their community. Prairie dogs are a real problem for ranchers and farmers. Where you see a prairie dog town, you can expect to see very little grass and too many rattle snakes. Not to mention that your livestock incurs from stepping in their holes. A piece of land with prairie dogs on it is virtually worthless unless you're marketing it as prairie dog hunting land. Of course, I don't know anyone that's actually been successful in marketing formerly good farmland as a prairie dog ranch!


So, my dad and his friends are always on the lookout for new ways to destroy their nemesis. We have people that come from New York, or some other Yankee place to hunt "dogs." My dad doesn't even charge them. They show up with a table with an umbrella for shade, their cooler, and spend a day or two in demolition heaven. Men are a mystery to me, I'm telling ya.


At first, Dad was having trouble getting his gun to "fire." As a matter of fact, the hunters gave up and headed to a pond a few miles away to do some dove hunting. Of course, I realize in the above picture Logan is holding a rifle, not a shot gun. Hunters never leave home without a rifle. Never know when you might see a coyote that needs to be taken care of!

It turns out one of the neighbor kids was hunting on his family's land next to the prairie dog town we were in. He came over to check out the gun shots he had been hearing (Popcorn had been learning to shoot a gun, or rather to fear shooting a gun, and my nephew Logan had been target practicing while he was waiting on the show to begin.)

Poor Levi showed up just in time for Dad to have figured out where the problem was. It turns out that the instructions on the handle of the gun are important. He had inadvertently flipped his oxygen and propane ratios. Apparently that's pretty important...Once he figured it out, it was BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Levi, being a guy, and therefore enamored of all things explosive, was eager to learn the ropes. My dad, obliging fellow that he is, gave him a quick lesson, and let him have at it.



Levi was euphoric after his turn at creating an explosion big enough to shake the ground under his feet. And big enough to make me huddle down to the ground.

I was the only one who stood by Dad to see his gun in action. Everyone else had moved on with their lives. All I can say is "I'm there for you, Dad. You can count on me! Umm, but no, I still refuse to fire it myself." I personally, had no desire to fire it myself. I felt the desire to huddle to the ground and cover my head every time it fired!

The Speed Limit is a Suggestion Part 3

Did you miss the first two installments of this story? Please, please go back and read about them before continuing....Here is Part One and here is Part 2.....Thank you.

Fast forward another year. I was going to college at Southwestern Oklahoma State University. Studmuffin was going to Northwestern Oklahoma State University. He had came to visit me, and watch me in a musical I was in. On Saturday we had decided to go into "The City" to run around. I volunteered to take my car. It was a 1993 bright red Ford Tempo stick shift. I loved that car. It ran like a rocket and got amazing gas mileage. I kept immaculate oil change and gas records. (This is generally a good idea when you drive like I did.) When we traded it in, I was looking back through my log book and realized I got 45 miles to the gallon with that little car. No joke.

Anyway, we were driving down I-40 to The City. Oklahoma doesn't have a lot of money for highway patrolmen, so they use airplanes. The plane will fly overhead and time your speed over a certain distance, then notify a unit on the ground of any offenders. Of course, i was pulled over. I have to say, I was more than a little concerned. I was no longer in my daddy's stomping grounds. I wasn't sure he had even been to The City in a few years, so the odds were not good that I could play the daddy card..."Young lady, do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Well, when I saw you pull in behind me, I looked at my speedometer and I was going 83." Stick to honesty and smiles....It was all I had left without my daddy's influence to hide under.

"We're using the plane today, and he averaged your speed at 86mph." Average. Okay. This means that over a several mile period I averaged 86mph. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower. Call me crazy, but this did not bode well for me. Studmuffin was overjoyed. Finally, I was going to get my just desserts for all of the rocketing around the great state of Oklahoma I'd been doing....

"Keep your speed down." That was all he said, then he literally ran to his car, jumped in, and took off like a bullet after a car that had just zoomed past us.

"I can't believe it!" Studmuffin was annoyed. "That is so unfair. 'Oh, look at the girl in the cute little red car with the big smile. I'm not going to give her a ticket.' This is ridiculous."

Well, Dear Reader, I was flabbergasted too. I could not believe Studmuffin was upset that I DIDN'T get a ticket. What the heck was wrong with him?

Fast forward another year. I have continued on my speeding spree, and continued to be successful in avoiding anything but warnings. By this time I had transferred to NWOSU to be with Studmuffin. We could no longer handle the extended separation, so I transferred to be with him. After all, he was a senior in college and had a lot more to lose than I did with a transfer at this point. To top it off, my best friend was willing to transfer with me, so I had a roommate and partner in shenanigans at my side!

The speed limit had just received a drastic bump. 70mph on the interstate, and 60 or 65 on other roads, depending on the terrain. I was absolutely ecstatic. This meant I could drive fast and not be breaking the law nearly as badly! However, word on the street was, you had better not exceed that limit by 5mph, or they were going to issue tickets.

I was on my way back to college after spending the weekend at my sister's house. I worked weekends in her home town as a nurses aide at the regional hospital. Of course I was in a hurry. Before I knew it I saw the pretty lights flashing in my rear view mirror. Darn it. Oh well, I better get my game face on.

"Young lady, do you know how fast you were going?"

I turned to offer my biggest, most sparkling smile....And came face to chest with a.....

WOMAN HIGHWAY PATROLMAN!!! (hear Psycho scream and music in the background)

I tried to be charming. I stuck to friendliness and honesty.....

The cranky witch gave me a ticket. For a measly 73 mph when the speed limit was clearly 65 on that stretch of road.

It took an effort, but I maintained my friendly disposition....

When I got to school one of my friends from down the street dropped in. Brian was a great guy. He had beautiful eyes that always seemed to be laughing and a huge smile that made you want to smile back. I shared my tale of woe to him. He began to laugh. I did not appreciate this response.

It turns out Brian had arrived in town about 45 minutes before me. He too had been pulled over on the same stretch of road by the same female officer....

Only she gave him a smile and a warning with the admonition, "Keep it down...This time I'm only giving you a warning." The injustice. And he was going faster than I was! The nerve! The very idea of it all! That was totally not fair! The only reason he didn't get a ticket was because he was a guy, and he had a great smile! I was sure of it!

When Studmuffin dropped by, Brian shared our adventures with him. I know you are surprised to find that he found the whole thing hilarious, and said I got what I deserved. I'm sure you can understand, Gentle Reader, my feelings of betrayal.

So, there you have it. The speed limit is truly only a suggestion. If you are a girl with a daddy who is well liked, the speed limit is a little higher for you. If you are a girl who is willing to be honest, friendly, and okay maybe a teeny tiny tad flirty, the speed limit may be higher for you. However, if you are a girl who is getting pulled over by a female officer, the speed limit is the speed limit, end of story.

The Speed Limit is a Suggestion, Part 2

If you happened to miss the first installment in this series, please go back and read it before you begin today's post....

I loved our local law enforcement. I was soon on a first name basis with all of the highway patrolmen in my little part of the world. I always had a moment of alarm, but when asked if I knew how fast I was going and why was I in a hurry, I always smiled and answered honestly, "Well, when I saw you I realized I was going 76, and I'm on my way to work." I don't know if it was the honesty, no excuses offered, the smile or what, but I'm pretty sure it was the fact that I was "Wayne's daughter" that I never got a ticket.

Fast forward a few years. Studmuffin and I had been dating a few months. It was the summer of 1994. Studmuffin would set his cruise control on 57mph. this would drive me positively bananas. The speed limit was 55. In my world this meant you should drive at the very least 63 or 64! Everyone knew they wouldn't issue a ticket for less than 10mph over the speed limit!

One evening I was finally successful in convincing him to drive over 60mph. We were on our way to Woodward to the movie. Many of you don't understand the level of dedication any boy had to have to date my sisters or me. I lived 26 miles from the nearest town. I lived 44 miles from Studmuffin's parents. He would drive to pick me up, then drive us to the nearest town with a theater, which was 55 miles away. The poor guy drove 200 miles for every date with me! Anyway, I had convinced him to up his speed a little.

Of course he got pulled over. I was sitting right next to him on his bench seat. I recognized the officer when he approached. (Please excuse me for not mentioning him by name. I'm not sure that he isn't still a patrolman, and I'd hate to burn any convenient bridges!) I leaned forward so he could see me and gave him a big smile and said, "hello." He gave Studmuffin a stern look and asked for his license and insurance verification. As he studied Studmuffin's credentials very intently, he said to me, "Young lady, I hope you have a license with you. I may have to take this young man in!" I smiled great big, gave him a wink, and said, "Nope! I left my wallet at home! You'll have to take me with you" Or something along those lines...

Studmuffin about started hyperventilating. He just knew we were both going to jail for soliciting an officer. The patrolman continued to glare and I continued to smile...until he broke down and started laughing. He gave Studmuffin his ID and insurance card back, then proceeded to ask me how I was doing, and was I corrupting this young man to drive as fast as me, was his power steering broke seeing as I had to sit so close, I must be helping him steer and whatnot. You could feel every muscle in Studmuffin's body relax when he realized we not only knew each other, but knew each other fairly well.

He asked us where we were going, how was my family, how did Paula like California, yada, yad, yada...When the patrolman let us leave, Studmuffin was blown away by how well we knew each other, and "how did I know him?" I explained that he had pulled me over several times for speeding, and we just got to know each other through chit chat. He could not believe it. He knew my sister Paula the same way. In fact one time he caught Paula speeding because she was trying to get to a certain gas station before it closed. He followed her, and filled her car up for her since the station was indeed closed and the next opportunity for gas was too far for her to make it on fumes.....

Well, once again, I have many more fascinating things to say, but again, will continue this post tomorrow. Stay tuned!

The Speed Limit is a Suggestion

Don't you agree?

No?

Well, let me tell you why I think so....

To begin with, please pray for my dad. He needs surgery for a birth defect. It seems he was born with a lead foot. It has not hindered him as one might expect. He can leap a 6 foot corral panel, no problem. He can outrun a mad mama cow who's about to show some revenge for the injustice done to her precious baby bull....

However, it has lead him into trouble. Trouble with the law y'all.

I remember we were driving through New Mexico when I was 15. I had just gotten my learner's permit. Dad decided it was a good time to have me drive. There is one problem with this. My dad and I are alike in many ways. We are both in a hurry. He felt I needed to pass a car I was following. "You can go faster than this," he said. Well, the problem was, that even though I've been driving since before my feet could touch the pedals, I had never passed anyone in my life. I took a big gulp of courage and began to pass the car. As soon as my nose was around the car, I turned back into the right hand lane. I nearly ran the poor people off of the road. I didn't realize I needed to have the entire car in front before I pulled in front of them. Poor people. I wonder if they still have flashbacks today of a Ford Taurus nearly running them off the side of a mountain the summer of 1991?

So, as you can see, "you can go faster than this," was ingrained in me by my father since the beginning of time.

I had my license for an entire 2 weeks before I got stopped the first time. I was so nervous when I got pulled over. The police officer took one look at my license and said, "Are you any relation to...." Okay, at that moment I nearly blacked out in terror. My brother was not exactly an angel in his growing up years (still isn't) and I had a cousin who was a bit of a terror and had made himself known to the local law enforcement also. I was bracing myself to be stripped searched and hauled off to jail for guilt by genetic association....

"Wayne?" he finished.

I almost collapsed with relief. Of course he knew my dad! "Yes!" I replied with enthusiasm.

"Well, you didn't stand a chance did you? I have to pull your dad over all of the time to remind him to slow down. Try to slow down, honey. I'm letting you off with a warning this time."

And I gave him my most winning, sparkling smile, thanked him profusely and continued on my way.

Thus began a long career of speeding, getting pulled over, and answering questions about how my dad was doing, and what about hunting on our prairie dog town, and "please slow down, I'm letting you off with a warning this time."

And that, Dear Reader, is all for today. I just realized this post is going to be entirely too long for one day, even for steadfast readers who are used to my endless ramblings...Please tune in tomorrow for another installment!

Helping Dad

In honor of Father's Day, I thought I'd share some of my favorite memories of my Dad.

My dad made everything fun. The first time Studmuffin helped us work cattle he was astounded at how smoothly everything went. The thing is, even if it didn't run smoothly, it was no big deal. You let a calf get by? Well, we'll get it in a minute when we re-sort (to get all of the other calves I missed of course.)

I hated "working the gate." This is a very important job. The person working the pen brings you, hopefully, one calf. If you want to keep the calf it was an "in." If you plan to sell the calf it was a "by." In other words, you either opened the gate to let a calf in or quickly closed it to let it by into the pen behind you. Notice I said "hopefully one calf." Sometimes 3 calves would run at you at one time. Dad would yell "First one is a by, the next two are in!" I would be half panicked trying to get the sorting right. Now, if Dad worked the gate, he was very adept at sending 3 calves 2 different directions at one time. And it was the right direction. That always drove me crazy. I remember my Grandad Marvin always used to say, "Andi, the cow doesn't want to run over you. Get in front of her. She'll stop." I disproved him on this theory over and over as I would try to leap a 6 foot fence in a single bound and the cow would charge into me, the corral, and whatever else that was in the way of her getting back to her calf. But he still never gave up this adage. Stubbornness runs in our family.

We used to have an Angus bull that had a tendency to roam. He liked to go into our neighbors pasture and visit the ladies there. We regularly had to get the horses and run him back home. The neighbor had a pony that had been allowed to founder in his pasture. So, we would be trying to round up an 1800 lb (guesstimating) bull, not disrupt Henry's cows, and avoid the crazy pony that would run up on us and kick at our horses. It was quite the sight, I'm sure.

Before I move on, I just have to share a remembered conversation with Henry and his wife: "Well, I guess it's okay that your bull got in here, but we really didn't want any black calves." Dad just apologized and went back to work. Never mentioning the fact that half of Henry's cows were black....Okay, return to topic:

Dad would rope the bull, then I'd put my rope on him (I was a terrible roper) and we would use 2 horses, trying to be sure and never let any slack go either way to prevent a charge from the romeo at either horse, and lead him home. One time we had been unsuccessful at getting him lassoed. Dad told me to go on ahead and open the gate, and we would have to just run him home. I rode ahead, but the gate was hard to open. I was wrestling with the bale (the wire that wraps around the gate post to attach the gate to the fence post) and I heard a thundering sound. Here came Dad the bull, and the crazy pony. My horse started to dance. So, I'm struggling with a fence and a skittish horse. I can still hear Dad yelling "Open the gate! Open the gate! Open the gate!" at the top of his lungs, and can picture that bull bearing down on me. I turned back to the gate and "put my butt into it." just like Dad taught me.

I got it open!

Just in time to see the stupid bull veer right and jump the fence into our pasture.

Dad, never one to be caught off guard immediately yelled "Close the gate! Close the gate!"

Gee. I guess that explained why no matter how many times we checked the fence to see where the fence was down we could never find it. Stupid bull.

Seriously, though, Dad did make everything exciting. We used to have to haul irrigation pipe. We had an irrigation system that we would use aluminum pipe for. When it was not in use, like in winter, or when we needed to farm, we would gather up all the pipe and stack it neatly. However, it was a tedious job to move it from place to place. We would each grab an end of 2 pieces of pipe, and "trot" to wherever it went. I'm just going off of memory here, but I think the pipes were about 8 feet long and 8 inches in diameter. How could this be fun? You see, we would always see neat things. Dad always made an effort to point out every baby bunny he saw. Or hawk. Or baby birds. Even flowers. It was always interesting. He would point out animal tracks and tell me what made them. If we found a pile of mouse bones and fur we knew an owl had probably had his meal there, then regurgitated the indigestible parts. Since I always found this fascinating, I guess I was always a little bit of a nurse. Plus, Dad was always nice and let me pick up my end of the pipe first. I would pick it up and tip it up on it's end. The end he was on. Why, you ask? Well, if the pipe had been stacked for the winter, invariably some animal had decided to make a home in it. Rabbits were okay. Even mice were alright. But I always had a horror that a snake would come sliding out. That never happened, but I still dreaded it.

I always knew my dad was invincible. One summer the rattle snakes were terrible. One day we were rounding up cattle and we killed 4 rattlers. Notice I said "we." Here's the scenario: Blue and I go to get a calf. He would start to pitch and carry on. I would see a snake, realize that was the cause of the ruckus, and run to get Dad. Dad would then come and kill the snake with his lariat. That's right...His lariat. I thought he was the most amazing dad ever...

And I still do!

Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I love you, and I hope you guys have a great trip to South Dakota!

Without us.

Dang Studmuffin's job interfering with our plans for fun...

But I'm not bitter or anything....

John Deere Green

I was driving home from work today and I saw a tractor. I suddenly had a flash of driving Dad's John Deere 70 tractor. It had no cab. I never got to drive it when it had a shade. I don't know if we never owned one, or if I just fell into the time frame when it was worn out from heat, rain and Oklahoma Wind.

We had a heavy four wheel drive Case tractor at that time. It packed the earth too hard for drilling so we used the 70 when my Grandad's tractor was otherwise engaged for drilling. I also got the privilege of using it for spraying and using the spreader.

Have I ever told you that Dad very seldom gave me orders. Every morning while I ate breakfast he would list the things he planned to "let" me do that day. That was his exact words. "Andi, today I'm going to let you drive the tractor." I never dared to say "No thanks, I think I'll go to the lake today instead."

But, back to tractor driving....The spreader was a simple implement that you simply hooked on to the tractor, filled with fertilizer pellets, and as you drove it sprayed the pellets onto the soil. Basically the same as the spreader you find at Home Depot to fertilize your lawn. Only bigger.

Anyhoo, I actually enjoyed the 70. You felt like you were driving really fast because you got to feel the wind in your face and you had to continuously move the steering wheel to keep it on track (picture how little kids pretend to steer and that was the reality with our 70.) Mind you I was probably only going MAYBE 10 mph, but it was all in the perception. I can remember bebopping along and singing at the top of my lungs "She thinks my tractor's sexy...It really turns her on....She always smilin' at me...While I'm chuggin' along." Or how about, "You can set my truck on fire, or roll it down the hill, but I still wouldn't trade it for a Coup deVille. It's got an 8 ft bed that never has to be made, you know if it weren't for trucks they wouldn't have tail gates..." Or maybe even "You know a dream is like a river...Ever changing as it goes..."

Okay...I'm done with our musical interlude.

Remember my previous mentions that I had a tendency to....ummm....well....

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah....I would lose track of what I was supposed to be doing.

Well, one time I was fertilizing the field a mile north of my parents house. I'm guessing it was a quarter section, which thanks to Studmuffin I can translate for you to 160 acres. It was actually a flat field with no terraces.This is very unusual for the Panhandle of Oklahoma. Since there were no terraces I was able to drive around in great big circles...Eventually I would get a feel for how far apart my tire tracks needed to be so that I had maximum coverage, but did not spend all of my time looking behind me to make sure I was covering well. I guess you could say I eventually guesstimated it. Well, this particular time, I was dancing along, standing up (the seat got sweaty after awhile, and that lead to uncomfortable sweaty-booty itchiness. You understand, I'm sure) singing at the top of my lungs when suddenly...

What the heck?

What is that?

Where did it come from?

Did we have another spreader parked in the field?

No, Gentle Reader, of course we didn't. Apparently I had failed to look behind me for quite a while. An entire circle's worth to be exact. At some point my pin had shook out of the hitch, the spreader came unhooked, and the spreader stayed put....

While I continued blithely along, completely ignorant of the fact that I was just driving around in a circle...

Accomplishing nothing.

I quickly pulled up to it, rehitched (I think I ran around frantically looking for the hitch pin, lest I get yet another lecture on inattentiveness) and completed the job.

Never to mention the whole debacle to my parents.

Until my Dad told me about using the spreader one night when it was late. It seems it got dark before he finished, so he was using the headlights to judge the distance between tire tracks....He was driving along, and suddenly the spreader was right in front of him. He decided it was apparently too dark to finish farming that night and called it a day.

I think it runs in the family.