Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Workin' with Moose

Okay, let's see how this goes.



I subscribe to a saddlemakers forum where folks post questions they have concerning construction, repairs etc., pertaining to, you guessed it, saddle making and leather work. As the questions are printed in a small box on the post, in somewhat abbreviated terms; and as I tend to speed read these questions, or topics, ( which ain't all it's cracked up to be, the speed readin' thing I mean.) and respond to them based on what I read, or thought I read in those short, get-the-picture-what-I'm-askin'? lines, my response often has little to do with the actual question. Am I layin' the groundwork here? Alright, here's one example:

A fellow leather officianado, asked; Has anyone ever worked with Moose?........signed, Amanda. Well, I jumped right on this one, hastily as it turns out, and wrote:

Funny You should ask, Amanda,

I did that once, but can't really say I recommend it. Ya see, I was gathering strays, up in the Wasatch Range a few years back, and one evening, sittin' around our campfire after supper, my horse and me were hashin' over a fair sized disagreement we'd had earlier that day. Well, he reckoned he was right, and I reckoned as how I was, when all of a sudden he blows up like a steam locked threshin' machine, leavin' his half eaten plate of beans an' liver, and takes off in the dark with the pickett line, feed bags, hobbles,.... the whole works. Once I became re-composed, and bein' the optimistic sort that I am, I waited on him a bit, and then crawled into my soogan and called it a day, figgerin' he'd run off a ways,.......get to thinkin' it over, and seein' the error of his ways, be back in time to make coffee in the mornin'.

Well, I woke up next mornin', kinda just lyin' there a bit, lookin' forward to a real nice day just spendin' time with my 'ole pal,.....my partner,......my trusty steed, when I realized I wasn't smellin' no coffee! So I rooled outa' my bedroll, looked around and also realized that sorry, wringy tailed, no-account hayburner wasn't there. And was he not only not there, but the dirty fire-breathin' sorriest son-of-a-mother that ever wobbled on four legs, had snuck back during the night and made off with my pack mule too!

Now, I'm not one to get all crazy over little things, but I was fairly disappointed in the way things was lookin', and decided the best thing fer me to do was to sit a spell, cool off, and make other plans. Now, that's when my superior thinkin' ability; my knack fer operatin' under enormous pressure came to light; unlike some friends I know, as huzzaws off right in the middle of a cozy dinner party just cause they don't happen to agree with every little thing bein' discussed, like you-know-who done. Anyhow, it occured to me that perhaps some of them mooses we'd been dodgin' fer the past few days came to mind, and they may just be hangin' out down in valley along one them willow scrubs along the creek, and allowed as if I could slip up and lassoo one of them dumb lookin' rascals, fork him, and ride him out a few rounds, I could just fix my transportation problem as had me all distressed in the first place, on account I ain't never been too fond of the prospect of leggin' it out. Not on these scrawny sticks of mine, anyhow.

So, I picked up my saddle, and 'ole Devil-Spawn's bridle, and headed fer the creek. Sure enuff, there they was, three 'er four of 'em, just waitin' to go to work. I dropped my saddle down by a good stout aspen tree a few yards back from the willows, un-strapped my seventy-foot, four- plait, riata, shook out a fair size loop; I'd say about a ten-footer; snuck up on one them bullwinkles, and hooped him with a real nice houlihan roll-over, purdy as you ever seen. I then ran back a few feet to the tree where my saddle was and began takin' up slack around that aspen, when.........Oh heck,... never mind,..........I thought it said, With "A" Moose..... Sorry 'bout that.

Once I recovered from the embarrassment of totally missing the target on the question asked, I sent an appology to the 'poster', and addressed the question, as asked, and assured her I was now well aware of the pitfalls of speed reading, and promised to give up the practice.

By the way,.......Me an' 'Ole Devil Spawn, has made up.

2 comments:

  1. How come ewe didn't tell the rest of the storee? when do we get to know how hard he bucked? If you tell them like you write them you will have them on the floor and peeing their pants in Van Horn!

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  2. Well, I reckon that's as far as I wrote this piece originally. I could go with it if anyone was interested, but quite frankly, you are the first to leave a comment on this part of it, which was posted back in the early spring of 2010. I do thank you for the comment.

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