Lightning Struck

I like these stories. One thing about all these poems is they all kind of tend to do the thoughtful romantic side of the cowboy life. And really, most of the time it really isn't that way. A lot of times you get out there, you get beat up, and you have to do things that make you wonder why you even do it. And here, oh, it's been about 20, 25 years ago, they kept having these These public service announcements on the radio for golfers. If you see a large black thundercloud, don't stand in the water trap with your 9-iron pointing at the pretty black cloud. Go into the clubhouse and have a beer. Well, that got me to thinking, you know, because there's a lot of times I'll be out, I'll be working the fence, or I'll be out checking cows, and I might be 10, 15 miles from the truck, let alone the house. And at the time, I happened to I'd be working next to Malpai National Monument, and I'd gotten to be friends with the park ranger. And I asked myself, well, you know, I get stuck out here in these thunderstorms, and just what are you supposed to do? So he says, well, you need to get off the fence. Don't get around any big trees. You can get around some smaller bushes, you know, to break the wind. And he says, get away from your horse, because them metal plates on there, they make for good lightning rods. So— That's right. And after that, you got to squat down with your spurs on to get— you know, you can scratch your tailbone with your spurs rather than get them in the mud, because that way it reduces the chances of you getting hit. So about a week later, I'm working on this fence and this great big old thunderstorm comes up. So man, I get about 200 yards off that fence. I hobble my horse, I get about 50 feet over there, and I'm sitting there like this for about 20 minutes. Well, That storm goes over, and I keep watching it. Let it get a long ways away. Now, I don't know if any of you ever noticed, lightning usually goes in front of the storm. You very, very seldom see it go backwards. So I figured, well, that storm's probably about 15, 20 miles off. I can go back on the fence. Okay. So I get down there, and I got my horse about a meter and a half away from me, and I got both hands on that fence, and all of a sudden it got real bright. The next thing I know, I'm laying on the ground. I'm kind of bouncing around about like a carp somebody catches and just throws up on the bank and just flops till it's dead. And I'm thinking, man, that, that must have been a little too close. Well, then I look over here and my horse is on the ground flopping as well. Now every flop, we keep getting closer and closer together, and I'm thinking, you know, this is going to hurt. And I'm also at this point, I can't feel my feet. But when I'm, when I'm working, I always tuck my pants down or my boots when I'm on horseback. I had just bought a pair of brand new boots with bright blue tops, and I could see them flopping up in the air, so I knew my feet were still on. And I keep looking at him, and that horse is getting closer. And he flopped over the top of me and didn't even touch me. A lion. But then he jumps up and he landed like this lion— here's the fence— he got right feet on one side, left feet on the other, and then he looks around, he rips out of there, rips the fence apart, falls down, and he gets up and he hauls his little tail back to the house 3 miles away where there's nobody there, you know, to wonder why the horse is there by himself. And after a few minutes, I get to right and get up, but it's like My mom had Parkinson's, and that's what I was like, like this, but I also looked like the hunchback in Notre Dame. And I was thinking, hey, maybe tonight's the night to marry her. And I'm thinking, I'm thinking now that I'm going to be able to maybe catch my horse when I get back to the gate because I closed that sucker. Well, I'm going down the road, and I get to the gate, and that gate looks about the size of a basketball about 50 yards off. I mean, that would have been a good wreck to see, and I didn't even get to see it. So I keep going, I'm thinking, well, I'm on the county road now, somebody's gonna come pick me up. They damn near better know me real well if they're gonna pick me up. I come around the corner, I see the house, and I look up and I'm numb to where these damn pants are at. That lightning had hit me so hard that on your— those of you that don't wear cowboy boots don't realize, but you got a little Rubber spur guard on your boots. That hit me so hard it melted the spur guard on both boots. Oh my goodness. Then the very next summer, I go from New Mexico to Montana. It was a real wet year, and I'm up there 45 degrees out, lightning storms, and I'm sweating because I'm up on the ridge and all I can see is this lightning going— so don't be a cowboy. It's not, it's not conducive to good health. Thank you very much.