The air was blowing in my face so hard, I had to close my eyes. But who wanted to miss the show? I couldn’t believe it, everything I had done up until this point was culminating into the most unlikely farming and ranching story.
I love the show Heartland and, occasionally, we get to watch the rodeo on TV. What they do is pure magic to me. Riding down the arena at 20 miles per hour, flicking their wrist and catching the legs of an animal running for their life.
I knew then that we needed one of those ropes. I just didn’t know how incredibly difficult it would be to use. Despite all my practice with children replacing the running calves, I realized that I’m horrible.
It’s harder than changing a diaper or using a compass on a land navigation course. It confused me worse than algebra and had me knotted up like a dirty old pair of shoes.
I practiced for months, even indoors to my wife’s dismay. I wanted to be a roper so bad that I even bought new cowboy boots and a hat. Although the outfit didn’t change anything about my skills, it did make me look more intimidating to the sheep … I think because they just ran.
Unfortunately, whoever made the rope that I bought didn’t realize how long I needed it. It felt about 100 feet too short by the time the rope landed and I calculated the distance to the sheep. What I really needed was a rope that shot out of a cannon super-fast and wrapped itself around the sheep while I held on to the other end. But, as of today, there is no such thing.
I don’t have a horse, so I tried to gallop around the pasture much like they did in Monty Python’s Holy Grail, pretending to be horses while using coconuts. Without the galloping coconut props, I looked more like a prancing idiot in the field. Sheep scattered and they changed direction faster than any race car driver. They looked more like the Blue Angels on land: navigating dangerous obstacles, jumping over electric net fencing and most importantly, avoiding me.
With the help of my fearless wife and kids, who were also trying to catch the ram, they eventually led him right to me.
I don’t remember even getting to swing the rope around over my head, I know that I didn’t get time to do the jumping through the lasso trick, but I did manage to feel resistance on my rope. In one perfect — albeit accidental — throw, I caught a ram.
That’s when the fist pumping started. It honestly hasn’t stopped and I sometimes walk around the sheep just to see if they remember that day.
Next stop … the butcher. Some people say that the first and last days on the farm are the hardest for the animals. But realistically, we have to catch them at least once a year to shear them and trim their hooves. Going to the butcher is the least enjoyable day on the farm … at least for us.
