Mountain Oyster Fry

Once a year the cattle farmers of Apache pool their resources and get together to wrassle calves (or something like that).
I was pulled in to the gathering and closely watched to see if this boy from Africa knew anything. At all. Well, they knew I didn’t by then, but I was good for a laugh! When I first got to Apache the local cowboys asked me if I could help them round up 18 cows. The maths nerd in me said, ‘Yes, of course. – That’s 20 cows.’ (actually, that’s a Jake Lambert joke, but not far off the truth!). I had been found wanting as a farmer more than once before.

We rounded up the calves, corralled them and roped them, brung them down and trussed them up.

We then: De-horned them with pincers; Cauterised the stumps with a red-hot metal ‘dome’; Injected them – inoculation; Castrated them with a pen-knife (not me!); Branded them with a red-hot branding iron. I hovered around, just of out of range of doing anything useful.

okla wrangling calves_2
– summing like this –

Then released them into the next pen, where they stood around bleating with a WTF!? expression on their dials.

After a long day we went home, washed up and gathered in Walter & Pug Hrbacek’s barn for the Big Annual Mountain Oyster Fry, where we fried mountain oysters and ate them covered in batter, washing them down with Coors beer.

What reminded me about this eventful day was this:

Ball with Jesus_Testicle

Definitely No Driving

Jay Wood had a beautiful Camaro, deep green with white racing stripe. Something like this one:


Except for the colour, but definitely with the girl. He had a way with girls our Jay!

Rotary had a few strict rules for exchange students. I can remember one: Definitely No Driving. So I didn’t. Except when really drunk.

Off we went one night into the sticks for beer and loud music. Then we needed more beer and I shouted “I’ll Drive!”

Amazingly (also a beer effect?) Jay said OK and off we went with a foreigner driving on the wrong (left) side of the car and the wrong (right) side of the road. Driving perfectly and safely (* hic *) until we got to a right turn on the country dirt road (most bends around Apache are right-angle bends – roads run north-south or east-west).

And then the wheels came off. Quite literally. Jay’s prize 15-inch back slicks on his beautiful hot dark green ’69 Camaro popped off the rims as I blacked out momentarily and gunned too fast around the bend, off the left-hand side into a ditch.

Jay crapped all over me, I reacted badly, shamefully – but he let me off amazingly lightly. This (guilty) foreigner got away with it. Lucky. Kind hosts!

Yikes! Lucky! * embarrassed *