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 We were just getting the branding fire going well
at the Rafter E when Dud brought out the tape measure. We stared at
him until he said something through his corona mask.
“How long do you figure a calf is?” he asked.
We looked at each other. Steve said, “I don’t know … four feet?”
“I mean when they’re lying down and being worked. You know, from the
head to the hind legs?”
“Stretched out, maybe five feet,” Herb said.
“Gotta measure that branding iron,” Dud added. “Three feet. So two
branding iron lengths is a social branding distance.”
“The virus, right?”
Dud and his mask nodded.
Steve scratched his head, then put his hat back on. “Dud, I’m pretty
sure you can’t catch that danged virus from a calf.” [to top of second
column] |
“I know that,” Dud said, “But
Anita told me I had to treat you guys just like the people I run
into at the store.”
We all looked at each other and grinned.
“Dud, you like that horse of mine, don’t you?” said Steve. “Well
see, Ol’ Snort likes you, too. So why don’t you just get on him and
do some heeling and dragging. I happen to know my catch rope is ‘way
socially distant.”
In such ways do some of us deal with change.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to
you to honor those masked folks who wait on us in the coffee shops
and take our temperature at the doctor’s office. Thank you for your
courage.
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