Who left Murphy in charge?

By Julie Carter

There is a school of thought that God is a cowboy. He certainly gets his share of "calls" during a cowboy's life and likely is the only one that has even a clue of how to get everybody out of the wrecks He gets invited to.

Now Murphy, on the other hand, is a full-time, large and in charge participant in every cowboy working. You all recall the dude called Murphy. He's the guy in charge of "everything that can go wrong will go wrong."

A cowboy won't ever have water problems when the weather is pleasant. The high heat of June seems to bring out the worst in pipelines and pumps while cattle lay shaded up at waterholes living for the next drink.

A January day when it is snowing sideways at 45 mph will almost guarantee a well that quits pumping.

General philosophy is if your water storage tank is full, the submersible pump will last 30 years.

Let the tank get below half and you may as well plan on calling the well man and hauling water until he can fit you into his schedule.

Cowboying is the only profession in the world where being "day help" is considered a career.

One must bear in mind that there is a reason day help does not have a steady job. When employing day help, one needs to remember that "day" does not mean the entire day to said help.

The fact that most "day help" won't work past dinner may account for the majority of the 3 p.m. lunches served at the ranch.

If the importance of the job to be done by the day help is red-flag high priority, you can count on him to show up riding a colt so green he can't turn him around in a four-section pasture and one that is guaranteed to buck through the middle of shipping pen just before you weigh the cattle.

Murphy almost always stands in the gate, in the way.

Except of course if you need someone to block the gate to keep cattle from escaping, then Murphy has gone to the pickup to get another can of chewing tobacco.

At ranch headquarters, Murphy is a regular visitor.

The minute company shows up, the toilet quits flushing properly and the cattle at the corrals will break the float on the drinker, draining the storage tank so everybody, corrals and house, is out of water.

Try to do anything at the corrals in your boots and nightie, thinking you are the only soul within 50 miles, and everybody you haven't seen in six months will decide to drop by just as daylight sneaks over the hill.

Drive anywhere in that same get-up and you've guaranteed yourself mechanical vehicle failure and a long walk home.

Again, a road never traveled will find the neighbor moseying by, and of course, he'll kindly offer you a ride. Looking the neighbor in the eye the next time you meet is nearly impossible.

Headed to a meeting, a funeral or a command performance at the bank?

Murphy will assure you don't get off the ranch without first birthing a problem baby calf in the heifer pen or changing a flat tire.

And that, only after finding a jack that works, a lug wrench that fits and a spare tire that isn't flat, too.

It is at this point when you ask God to send Murphy to town. You're too tired to go.

© Julie Carter 2007