My friend Tim Zibell spent his birthday at cow camp dragging his own calves. That’s about as good as it gets.
Here’s a cow camp story about Tim.
We were camped with the wagon dragging for the Chambers.
One morning when I got to the fire Tim was banking the fire and griping.
“I couldn’t sleep cause somebody but something in my bedroll and it really stinks.”
“Can’t you find it?” I asked.
“Nope. Tore my bed apart. Boy it stinks.”
By then Tim’s son, Clayton, was up and having fun kidding his dad.
“I don’t know how you could smell anything,” Clayton said. “You ain’t changed clothes since we got here.”
Soon Ace Bowman arrived.
“Ace, I bet it was you. You put something in my bedroll didn’t you? I know it was you.”
It was obvious to me Ace had no idea what Tim was talking about. Not that Ace might not pull a prank, but this time he had no idea.
We were razzing Tim quite a bit and the more the did, the more convinced he became it was Ace. Since Ace was going home at night, it seemed a perfect set up to Tim that Ace had sabotaged his bedroll and left camp.
The day rolled on. When we got back to camp that afternoon, we gathered at the wagon. We had a gaggle of kids with us and they hit the creek.
“Tim, you’re going to apologize to me in front of all these people,” Ace said.
“I’d like to know what for.”
Ace called the kids to the fire.
“Are you kids fishing?” Ace asked.
“No, but we caught a bunch yesterday!”
“Really?” Ace said. “Where did you clean them?”
“Out there under that tree.”
“The tree where Tim’s bedroll is?”
By then the laughter and comments was in full swing.
Clayton pulled Tim’s bedroll back. Sure enough…the remains of a fish cleaning were right under it.