Name:Cowboy Location: Chattanooga, Tennessee, United States Gender:Male
Interests:horses, paintball, camping, singing, writing, trying to Love my Bride as Christ Loves His Expertise:horses, landscaping, music, romance Occupation:Student
Some of you might remember me posting about wanting to run a coffee shop. If you would like to be reminded, check this out.
Anyhow, one of the things I did on my recient trip west was to check out the decor at the different western food establishmentsalong the way. These that I took pics of were quite interesting, I thought! First, I'll give credit where credit is due. Here's to Al's Oasis...though I can't remember for the life of me where it is. I think it is in South Dakota.
a pic of the outside...
one of their conference rooms
I like the upright piano under the moose head. Very saloon-ish
I don't know how modern I want to go, but I thought I'd snap it anyhow
part of the walls had old school wall paper, and...
the other wall had this...with a guest appearance of my Dad for scale!
If I ever am able to actually start a saloon like I want to, I'm gonna have this put on wood and hung up in it. This weekend I'll tell you a story like I'd tell in the saloon!
"Forever the dream is in the mind. Realization is in the hands." Louis L'Amour
all right, folks, I need some opinions. I need a public that is not attached to the situation. Picture this
it is a western-style saloon, slat boards and all. Only they don't serve alcohol. they serve coffee. I am looking on the inside. the walls are bland and need some decoration. Art. That's what it needs. Now, for the type of art. Here's where y'all come in
does it need western photographs?
do we need western paintings?
Do we need local landscape photos and still life pictures?
Or, a suggestion that Mrs. Cowboy thought of is to frame photos of the people in the town doing their Cowboy thing (don't have the town, but here are a few examples)
"There is always hope for a man who can dream, and even for one who can boast, for when the two are together, they try to bring both to reality."
Barnabas Sackett
I chuckle every time. It never fails. Somebody new comes into the coffee saloon, and reads the sign, and they just can't resist. They have to ask because the sign said to. I don't think there has been one disappointed look yet. It's a simple display, really. In fact, if the sign wasn't there to call attention to it, nobody would ask. It's simply a mounted buck. Five points. Nothing impressive, but there is a calf rope hanging off it's neck. And a sign under it saying "Go Ahead, Ask The Cowboy." I'll trade the story for them buying a coffee to drink while they sit and listen to it. I'm sure I've told about everybody in town that story, and I've sold a ton of coffee. Truth be told, that young buck has been the best salesman I've ever had! I'll tell you too. Buy you a coffee and sit back.
October of aught eight was early enough in the Fall that the chill left about mid-day, and the fog was the most picturesque thing of the dawn. I worked then at Bryan College in Dayton Tennessee. I put in about 32 hours every normal week, and when I wasn't working, I was schooling. Getting my bachelor's of Business Administration so I could start my own someday. This ole Saloon was just a dream then. I had never been hunting, though not for lack of want. When I was a boy, Momma thought it was too dangerous. When I was a teen, I was too busy touring with various choirs, and in college, I was always too busy with my studies, and work when I wasn't doing that. Life. That's what got between me and stories that should have happened and never did.
Even back then I was a Cowboy, though. Misplaced as I was, I still wore my Justin to work, and my boots and bandanna around my neck everyday, and I was always looking for an adventure that could only try to elude me. I was driving the company truck around campus one day just after deer season had started, and Fall Break was half way done, and I saw a sight that I had seen quite often, but had never thought about. It was a herd of deer on the backside of the soccer field. They liked the grass on that hill for some reason, and I had often times come walking up or down the road just a singing away to my mp3 that I kept under my hat, and seen them there eating. They would look at me and we'd stare at each other for a bit, then they'd go back to eating, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a guy in a cowboy hat loudly singing a song by Randy Travis was staring at them. I had always thought that was strange, but that's the God's honest truth! You can ask David or Lynn or Herman, they all seen them there at one time or another.
This day was different, though. I saw them there and stepped the truck, and got out to stare like I always did. The cool wind hit me in the side of my face, and when it did, I had an incredible idea. Just to test it out and see if it would work, I slammed the door (that got their attention), and started waving and jumping and hollering and making all kinds of an idiot out of myself, and none of the four of them seemed to think it was anything other than odd, and went back to their grazing.
I knew then that it would work. I grabbed my lariat rope from the bed of the truck (just because a cowboy is out of his element doesn't mean he can't have his comforts), and walked real quick up the trail to the woods. Now this trail used to be a road up to the water tower back when they were building it, but now it's no more than a running trail for the Cross Country team. This trail, though, goes up near the water tower, then curves up around following the ridge above the soccer field, over past the two adjacent practice soccer fields, and down behind the next parking lot over. A wonderful walking/running/sneaking up behind the deer trail.
And that's what I did too. I stuck to the trail, careful not to step on any leaves, and I snuck right up behind where those deer were still grazing! I was about ten yards from them, and could see them through the bushes and pine trees. They were such regulars to this place that they had their own little trail that crossed right near where I was! They had apparently had enough and were wondering my way, so I squatted down behind a bush and waited for them to get to me. It was only now that I thought about the ludicrousy of my plan, but it was too late now. I was already here. I might as well try it.
Real slowly, I built me a loop and got ready. As the young buck neared, I made not a move. I couldn't believe the luck of the wind! If it were any weaker, they'd smell me for sure! He got within five feet of me, and I flicked the loop out and amazingly, it went right around his rack and slipped to his neck!
This was where my plan had ended. I never thought I'd actually rope the thing; I just thought it would be fun to try! But now the battle was on, and the young buck was none too happy at all about being roped! I did as any cowboy trying to hold a calf would do. I wrapped that rope around my backside and sat down on it, using all my weight to hold him there. There all around me were trees that were sturdy enough to tie to, so as he was dragging me along, I jumped to the side of one of those trees and let my momentum (what little I had. I was 190 at the time, and the deer couldn't have been much more, so it was a tough fight indeed!) dally—sort of—to a pine tree, and it wasn't long after that that ole buck figured out that flight wasn't going to work. It was time to try some fight. I barely got a knot or two tied and started crawfish out of the way before he came charging at me! I finally, just in time got out of the way, and reached for my pocket knife.
Now you who aren't from the country might need this explained. Out here, a boy starts carrying a pocketknife around as soon as he is old enough to know that it really will cut somebody if you ain't careful, and he is never without it. The old saying is somebody says, "You got a knife?" and we answer with a question "Do I got my britches on?"
But this time, I reached in and all I felt was my inhaler and a hole. Dang! This is one heck of a time to lose my knife!!! I thought, then I did what anybody in my tender situation would do. I called my supervisor. Now David is a little different of a supervisor than you might think, and the guys I work with are a little different than the guys at most work places. When I called the Captain (his last name is Morgan, so naturally I call him Captain), I knew that not only could I count on some help, but when he showed up, so would all the other guys, just to see thes how. They were all cool, and I enjoyed working for them. With the buck charging and whining and thrashing at the leaves, I got David on the phone "Hey Captain! I'm in a real tight spot, and I need some help right now this second!"
"What's wrong, Cowboy?" I was the only one on campus, so I got the name.
"I swear! Right now you wouldn't believe me if I told you! I need you to bring me a real sharp knife! I need you to get here as quick as you can. Meet me at the tree line behind the soccer field. Bring the boys, but not the boss."
"Three minutes partner."
"Thanks!"
As I hung up, the buck was finally starting to get short of wind and slow down a bit, and I had time to check the damage. I'd ripped up my jean leg, and sprung a little bit of a leak on my thigh. I had rope burn on my hands, because I was an idiot and left my gloves in my back pocket through the whole deal, and I looked like I'd been dragged through the woods for ten yards. And I had!
I heard the bumping of the college van going off road, and I jumped up to run and meet him. Sore already! I'll feel this fight in the morning! I reached the tree line just as David and Lynn were pulling up. I saw Herman and Steve pull off the road and head our way, and Gary right behind them.
"Good golly, boy! What's wrong with you!" Lynn asked as he got out of the van.
"Too many fingers for ropin'"says I. Lynn is missing about four fingers, and any time somebody can't do something, Lynn tells them to move over, that they got too many fingers. I figured I'd beat him to it this time. David walked up, just staring, and handed me his pocket knife, it's blade half serrated, and half not. I stood and waited for the other three to park and get out, not wanting to waste time telling the story. "Y'all might wanna see this, so I can prove it happened," I said and turned into the woods. They all followed without question.
I won't repeat what they all said when they saw him there, and I won't attempt to reckon what went through that buck's mind when he saw us, but when he did, he found another burst of fight. I took the knife and told David "Here, hold my beer," even though I didn't have one. And walked into certain death. Ole buck figured that if I was gonna kill him, I'd have to work for it. He charged me, and I side stepped, grabbing the base of his antlers and trying to jerk him around. I really didn't mean to wind up on his back, but I guess the momentum put me there. There was nothing for it then. I wrapped both arms around that massive neck in a bear hug, and sliced as deep and as long as I could. Then I held on for"deer" life. I could feel that he wouldn't last long because my arms were already drenched in his blood. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, but that is forever when you're hanging onto a wild animal without even a bull rope!
Finally it was over, and the guys were prying me off of him. I guess that every time I go there, even all these years later, I see somebody who knows that story. I packed him out myself. They wanted to, but I said " let you pack him out and ruin the rest of the adventure?! Ok, help me get him on my back, I'll take him to the loading dock!" And I carried him down the trail to the Physical Plant shop.
As I said, I'd never been hunting before, so I had no idea how to dress a kill, so the fellas helped me with that, and we sure as heck were very careful to save that head and get it to a taxidermist that day. I don't think I've ever seen any of my hunting trips be so exciting as that first one, though you can bet that I was invited on a lot of them after that. But one thing I can say about roping a deer. It's the same thing as S. Omar Barker said about roping bears: "It's no special trick at all to snag one in your noose, but it's sure easier to catch 'em than it is to turn 'em loose!"
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