Laugh Tracks in the Dust 11-9-09 |

Laugh Tracks in the Dust 11-9-09

In most places now, deer hunting season of some sort is under way. So, that makes this true story about an ornery kid and a deer most appropriate.

This story wuz just told to me last week, but it happened probably 20 years ago on a ranch in the Kansas Flint Hills.

Someone in the big hunting group had bagged a big whitetail buck – big enuf that the shooter wanted to mount the head. So the hunters gathered in someone’s machine shed to gut and dress out the buck – and have a few celebratory drinks of their favorite beverage.

Since the shooter wanted to take the trophy to a taxidermist, the skinners very carefully skinned the buck – leaving a long cape on the head so the taxidermist could do a nice head and shoulders mount.

When they finished, the carcass was cooling from the rafters and the bloody head and cape wuz laying on the floor.

That’s when this ornery youngster, who was known for always wanting to get a laugh and be the center of attention, hefted the heavy, bloody buck head and cape, plopped it down on top of his own head with the cape flowing down his back almost to the floor and said, “Look at me! I’m a giant buck.”

It wuz so funny, everyone in the group broke up laughing. However, I’ll bet the kid’s mother didn’t think the whole thing wuz so funny when she had to figger out how best to get the blood out of her kid’s hair, face, and clothes.


While I’m on the subject of rural kids, I’ve got another true story from rural Maine. A story from that far distant New England state is a first for me.

Friends of mine from Texas have a daughter and son-in-law who live on an acreage in a rural community. They have four grandchildren in the Granite State.

My Texas friends stopped by recently for an overnight stay and told me the story.

Grandma wuz helping her grandson prepare to brush his teeth. Her grandson had his toothbrush out and was preparing to put toothpaste on it.

When Grandma asked if he needed help, grandson assured her he could do it all by himself.

When he squeezed the tube of toothpaste, he wuz very careful to only put a small dollop of toothpaste on the brush.

Grandma inquired if he needed a bit more toothpaste and grandson replied, “Nope. I’m supposed to only put on a bit of toothpaste no bigger than the size of a ‘p.’

Then grandma heard her grandson mutter more or less under his breath, “Not the size of an ‘l,’ an ‘m,’ an ‘n’ or an ‘o.’ Just a ‘p.’ ”

After Grandma finished laughing, she and her grandson had a brief instructional session about a certain small, round, green vegetable that grows in a pod.


Last week I helped my friend, ol’ C. Fahren Wyde, ship his cattle. I’m not able to do much anymore, but I kept the real cowboys full of hot beef stew and hot coffee and served as a “go-fer” when needed.

As a consequence, I had a fair amount of time to visit with Bill Broadie, the representative for Superior Livestock Sales who wuz on the premises to help sort the cattle.

For those who don’t know, Bill is also the ramrod for the All American Beef Battalion – a volunteer group that feeds good ol’ beef steaks to our armed forces who are nearing deployment or coming home from deployment.

Bill told me since its inception, the All American Beef Battalion had raised nearly a quarter million dollars and served thousands of steaks to troops at military bases across the U.S.

The day the Wydes shipped their cattle wuz a day not fit for man nor beast. It wuz raining and the lots soon became soupy mud that got everyone splashed in the face before the day wuz over.

I wuz standing alongside Bill visiting with him about his volunteer work and he wuz quizzing me about the columns I write. He reached into his shirt pocket and extracted a Skoal can. As he prepared to get himself a dip, he looked at his muddy, “manury” hands, shrugged his shoulders at the unappetizing sight, and went ahead and filled his lip.

Then he looked at me, grinned big, and said, “Here’s something for your column. My wife could never understand how I could eat, drink, and dip snoose with manure on my hands, but could never change a baby’s diaper without gagging.”

That is a good question. Before I leave Bill for this week, I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you that the All American Beef Battalion’s Web site is That worthy cause is always needing donations to buy more steaks for our military personnel.

You can donate online or send a check to All American Beef Battalion, P.O. Box 458, Ashland, KS 67831.


I’ll close for this week with a few patriotic words from retired General Norman Schwarzkopf: “If you leave here with the word duty implanted in your mind; if you leave here with the word honor carved in your soul, if you leave here with love of country stamped in your heart, then you will be a 21st century leader worthy of the great privilege and honor of leading the sons and daughters of America.”

Have a good ‘un.

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