“To each there comes in their lifetime a special moment when they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared for that which could have been their finest hour.”
-Chris Healy trying to inspire me to get my shit together
–also Winston Churchill
When my brother texted me that there was a stranded goat on the Bean Ranch, I replied.
I spent my adolescence obsessed with the sport of Team Roping. I roped competitively throughout High School and into my freshman year at Fresno State. Eventually, I graduated from Strangling Cattle to Strangling People, but the lessons have stayed with me.
Here’s a partial list of things I have roped.
- Thousands of Cows.
- Dogs
- A warthog
- Donkey’s
- Sheep
- Every member of my immediate, and most of my extended, family
- Chris Diaz.
- Street signs, while driving 70 mph in the bed of my brothers truck with the other end of the rope tied to a ball hitch. (Bonus points if you can guess which brother.)
- Every Fresno State Sigma Nu Pledge between 2006-2008
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People say roping is animal cruelty, which it is, but that it doesn’t detract from it being a beautiful art and integral to our history as American’s.
Jesus, does that sound like I am trying to defend the Confederate Flag?
“Because my story was true. I was certain of that. And it was extremely important, I felt, for the meaning of our journey to be made absolutely clear. We had actually been sitting there in the Polo Lounge—for many hours—drinking Singapore Slings with mescal on the side and beer chasers. And when the call came, I was ready.”
-Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
Reclamation District’s use goats for levee maintenance, as opposed to the widely disparaged Herbicides.
That is how our goat became stranded between blackberry bushes above and the river below.
My brother-in-law, an officer of the peace and master of weaponry suggested a 22-cent solution.
But Wilson’s are forgiving gods. The goat had done nothing to provoke us.
The goat, was stranded on, what is known to locals as the Bean Ranch.
During Winter months, it becomes inaccessible by dry land. If we were to rescue our goat before the pending high tide and certain death, our mission would be a maritime one.
I am an EMT, though to my eternal shame, am not a member of the local Fire Department.
Fortunately, my brothers are fire fighters, which gave us access to pontoon with an outboard motor and fire hose.
Known to many as Boat 96, we repurposed her as Goat 96.
Sadly, Goat 96 had the turning radius of Chris Christie after a muckbang.
We bumped and nudged houseboats exiting the marina, quickly learning that living on water doesn’t exactly lend itself to sober living. No one noticed.
The team sped our way along the mile long journey, down the Mokelumne and through the Deadhorse Cut. The wind blew cold, but the promise for adventure warmed our hearts. We violated many laws of the sea, except for the most important, not abandoning ship.
We spotted the goat, she seemed frozen like a deer in headlights as our spotlight enveloped her. We docked and I thought I wouldn’t have to put my finely tuned roping skills to use. I tried to casually toss a rope over her, but she bolted along side the embankment. Our goat had 25 yards of wiggle room each way.
She would need to be roped to be saved.
Nighthawk threw the pontoon into reverse, then forward and recharged. I started swinging, delivered and got hold of the Goat. I immediately realize the goat was stronger than most trained men I grapple with and had to enlist my brother-in-law to restrain the beast.
We loaded the goat by the horns, as it were, onto Goat 96 and commanded NightHawk, our captain, to return to port.
Then the motor broke down.
It’s hard to describe the helplessness feeling of being stranded in the middle of Deadhorse Cut sober, with a Goat, wet shoes and socks and no desire to paddle your way home.
Fortunately, Nighthawk is an expert mechanic and restored Goat 96 to glory with expedience.
10 minutes later we docked and escorted our captive by the neck to the truck.
It reminded me of El Chapo’s extradition back into the United States.
A wee drive later the team put goat to pasture in an undisclosed location, where she will live for the remainder of her natural Goat existence.
The Goat remains unnamed, but we are actively taking suggestions.