Just as evening chow is nearing a very good neighbor calls to tell me I have a calf on the wrong side of a blacktop road fence that doubles as the local unrestricted autobahn for a never ending stream of teenage drivers.  ... and it's a Saturday night. He asks twice if I wanted any help putting it in or checking the fence before dark, but I insist I'm close and can run it right in on my own. It does seem odd though since I just checked that fence a few hours earlier, but I rush up there to run it in only to realize the brains of this operation forgot to hook up the last 300' of fence to the other 3/4 mile of heat. As the head hired man begins mumbling cuss words under his breath at the owner for forgetting to hook up the most important piece of that fence he hears that cough behind him that you never want to hear. 

The head hired hand and owner quickly argue over the fact that I have no meds in this truck, it's almost dark, the portable corral has not been moved to this farm yet, and that food sure smelled good. Then the cough sounds off again and the internal arguing ends and off to get meds and a rope it is. As I start to wander through my tamest set of cows waiting to hear the cough I guess an average calf weight and load the syringe with plans for this to be a quick loop and stick, because man did that food smell good. Finally with a loaded syringe in my teeth, the perfect sized loop in hand, and a set coil in the other the calf coughs and presents the perfect angle. With perfect super puncher form the loop lands and the whip is sent down the slack as if it was the PBR finals. It was at this point I realized the slack in that rope was already gone and all I had in my hand was the knot in the very end of the rope. The owner and hired hand instantly start arguing over the weight of the pissed off rhinoceros the head super puncher without a horse just tied into. Somewhere around heal plant attempt number 2 I added 200lbs to his weight and realized the syringe in my mouth did not contain enough meds but the math was getting fuzzy as heal plant number three was in progress. It was at that point super puncher with no horse realized the rye stubble swamp mud was 3" deep and the heals on his boots were of no hope and the professional water ski form was implemented. 

Somewhere around pissed off rhinoceros launch number 3 or 4 he got enough slack in the rope to move from a perfect head loop into a chest loop and started throwing mud into super puncher with no horse's face with precision aim. As the now 2000lb demon powered rhinoceros locked it into 4 wheel drive super puncher realized ass plant number one knocked the meds bottle out of his rear pocket and he was quickly sliding out of reach of it. The owner yelled grab it while the hired hand said screw it, but super puncher snagged it before it got out of reach. During the snag said chest loop had now turned into a double rhinoceros heal. Relief... thank god, the water ski lesson is over.  Wait, the double heal just turning into a single heal and now the owner and hired hand are yelling at the cow **** and mud battered super puncher to get off his rear and get that leg in the air before all this was a waste. As the angry whale is reeled in super puncher realizes not only is the calf much bigger than he thought, but his arms are barely long enough to even hold the heal while reaching the neck to inject. After some quick math and 3 attempts at getting the meds out of his rear pocket with the same hand he's holding the heal with it becomes obvious he's about to mainline a needle into his wrist. The hired hand cracked a joke about all the crap in super punchers eyes and it might prevent the pinkeye from setting in so don't worry about it, but the owner convinced him to set the bottle on the ground and stab it with the syringe before his wrist looked like the local junkie's arms.

The second injection went smoothly and the wild demon is released with a well earned new name and a future reservation in the personal steak making pen. As super puncher smears himself off and spits out as much of the organic fertilizer as he can he thanks the lord that it's over and rolls up his now well stretched mud soaked rope and searches for the med bottle. Just as he picks it up he hears another cough sound off. The owner is quickly calculating the potential death loss, the hired hand is laughing and cracking off with you're already muddy, and the super puncher is realizing his mud soaked nuts are no longer warm and he's starving but the aroma of the evening meal kind of smells like manure and clay loam.

The calf is close and after a quick discussion it's agreed that he will get two rope throws to determine his fate. Super puncher with no horse is quickly catching his breath before the calf moves farther away, but is realizing his throwing arm is near cramped and the first throw just looked like some drunken 4 am reservation rodeo toss. Toss two was the sneak attempt on the other side of momma with a whole two foot throw. I'm pretty sure the hired hand laughed because he knows what a two foot toss means in terms of slack when there is no dally for a mud soaked rope. You guessed it, we're now back to desperately latching onto the knot in the very end of the rope and the head loop is now a double heal. Thankfully the calf lets out a bunch of bawls and momma calmly stands over him while meds are given. 

Super puncher with no horse is now a 1/2 mile from the truck in total darkness with plenty of time to think about how ignorant that whole ordeal was during his evening stroll through the standing swamp water of the last two weeks. On the way the owner reminds him it was well worth it while the hired hand reminds him the packer is just going to steal that calf anyways, so why'd you bother. During the last few steps to the truck I realize I'm in the good truck and there's not a single thing in it to put down on the seat. Screw it, I'll throw all these clothes in the back and make the ride of shame in the trusty hanes. At this point the sound of a car can be heard coming on fast, but there are no more bucks to give so it gets a big cousin Eddie wave from the field entrance in the soaking wet skivvies and boots before jumping in the truck and heading home to a shower and that meal. 

As I throw my clothes on the back step I realize I did not get the sliding door shut in my haste to leave after grabbing the meds and the house is probably full of bugs. Or maybe it's a home invasion. At this point, I really don't care either way. Wait... What's that noise in the kitchen?? As I peak around the corner head tom cat in charge looks up from devouring half my meal sitting on the counter and quickly realizes his life probably depends on beating me back to the door. Little did he know, I had no quickness left in me and was going to settle for raining down words he's probably never heard. 

It's near midnight and a hot shower and some cold beers are going to have to do.

Surely there's some kind of 12 step program for the mental illness they call cowman.