29 Jun (Thu) Day’s plan: laminate ranger-letters and map then pack in the whole deal plus posts, install entry sign and ride out, leaving stock at the pack station. Well, guess what? Plans changed! ◦◦◦◦◦ Spent all morning laminating maps. A tedious, exceptionally frustrating task. Wasted lots of contact paper and several maps as the *&%#@*! map wouldn’t lay flat and the perma-sticky contact paper would start to bunch up—very annoying. (Once that little hump forms, it just snowballs.) ◦◦◦◦◦ To the barn after lunch. Clouds building, thunder thundering. Caught up Brenda and Red. Decided I’d be better off taking the giant mule for packing in those long posts. But Brenda would not go in the stock truck. Billy B. and the fire crew were out there working on the new barracks so I enlisted their help. Still no luck. Tried a bit longer on my own after they left. Spent over an hour getting absolutely nowhere—a complete waste of time unless you count amusing the firecrew. (I could see them over there watching and kinda sniggering.) Finally admitted defeat, but not without a little supplementary humiliation tossed in for good measure. I was thoroughly steamed. It was starting to rain. Too late to go in now, a whole day basically wasted. So I turned the wretched half-ass loose in disgust and watched her trot off. But wait! She STILL HAS HER SADDLE ON, you you you IDIOT! Spent another half hour trying to catch her, which included having to wade across Swauger Creek (hoped no one saw that part….) before she finally gave up. ◦◦◦◦◦ Back to the warehouse. Raining. Cleaned built-up manure deposits out of the back of the truck. Greta showed up—it was 5:00 or so by this time—and without so much as a hello proceeded to chew me out for trying to load Brenda in the stock truck. “Brenda does not goin the stock truck!!” Greta thought I knew this and reminded me of past debacles involving trying to load and unload her—things I’d told Greta about myself that happened before she arrived in Bridgeport. Like the time it took Lorenzo a couple of hours to get her in and then she wouldn’t off-load and ended up spending the night. Another time that Brenda finally loaded (I missed this one, too) but refused to exit so they extended her lead rope and tied it to a tree then drove the truck out from under her. Greta assumed I was just being pig-headed and stubborn as the mule but, truth is, these things happened years ago and had plum slipped my mind. I hardly ever use Brenda and figured she was just being “difficult” at the beginning of the season. Perhaps I’m growing senile and have forgotten things I should’ve known but this information came as a surprise. Greta was particularly incensed because she thought I knew all this. Plus, she’d already overheard two different people at the office gossiping about how I was out at the barn brutalizing our poor, helpless mule. News travels fast. Those guys on the fire crew who saw me kicking Brenda about the flanks don’t know enough about stock to know that a mule feels a swift kick like they’d feel a finger-poke. But we talked it all out and my boss felt better after venting. All of it rather ridiculous. I don’t mind being the butt of a joke or source of some juicy gossip (in fact, it’s probably good for me) but I do hate to rouse Greta’s ire. I just hope to never get busted for anything worse than this.
©2020 Tim Forsell 21 May 2020, 22 Oct 2020
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