There are many duties that befall a youngster living in the country. Most of them hold positions of great responsibility, but there are some that are just down right aggravating to have to accomplish. Take for example the gate.
Gates come in all sizes and weights, and operate with various degrees of difficulty. It is the responsibility of the gate person to learn about each gate, how they work, and how tough they can be to handle. The gate person is going to have to handle the gate in every situation, whether it be going and coming on the road to town, rounding up and working the pens or moving stock from one pasture to another. In addition to learning each gate’s habits, the gate person is responsible for keeping the gates in good working condition. It is tough work when the end of a gate drags the ground when you open and close. That means you have to lift it to make it work properly, and if a gate person works a lot of gates during the day, it can become tiresome. So, a gate person needs to make sure the gates don’t drag the ground, and one has to know how to fix that gate to keep it from dragging.
One of the great inventions of the time was the bumper gate. In the days when bumpers on cars and trucks were made with metal, one could use the bumper to bump open the gate, drive through, and the gate would swing back into the closed position. One could see the end of the gate person’s responsibilities coming one day. Our place had a bunch of gates, and none of which were bumper gates!
Being the youngest in our family had some advantages. For instance, I was the designated fence boy. That meant I could saddle my horse and ride all day for a real purpose. However, being the youngest also brought some disadvantages such as being designated as the ‘gate man.’
The word ‘man’ was added on there to make the job seem much more adult than it actually was. It was an awful job. Winter or summer, rain, snow, sleet, or heat, the gates had to be opened and closed.
We had seven gates to be opened and closed on the road from the main road to our house. When my brother and I were in school, a pickup would be left inside the first gate so when we got off the bus, we had a ride to the house. And, trying to be the best gate man I could be, that meant I got a lot of practice opening and closing the gates.
My brother and I became so good with our timing that I could get the gate open quickly enough for him to drive the truck through, shut and secure the gate, and jump into the back of the truck without the truck slowing. We were a team! We practiced this routine all winter long, and it worked really well.
As spring came along and the weather warmed up, apparently my brother became bored with our gate routine. He decided it would be fun to jam on the brakes just as I dove for the bed of the truck. That left a knot or two on my head. The next trick up his sleeve was, as you might guess, to speed up just as I dove for the bed of the truck. Caliche roads can really mess up your clothes when you slide like you are trying to get to home plate belly first.
To end all this physical abuse I was dealing myself, I decided I wanted to ride up front in the cab of the truck, or at least on the running board. We had really nice wide flat running boards on that truck, and I could hang onto the passenger side mirror and ride comfortably on the running board from one gate to the next. Mind you, this only worked during good weather days.
I am pretty sure my brother would lay awake at night and devise new tricks to play when we were headed to the house after school. His latest thing was to stop so I could close the gate and come to the side of the truck to get on the running board, and he would goose the truck engine to move the truck up a couple of feet just as I stepped on the running board. Well, after four or five tries of getting on the running board in that fashion, I gave up. He went on to the house. I thought I was really on top here, because he had to open the gate, drive the truck through, get out and close the gate. Since we had just gone through gate number two, he had five to do by himself. I just knew he would learn to appreciate all the hard work I did when he had to do a little work himself. While I was patting myself on the back for my ingenuity, I heard a grunting noise close to the gate I had just closed.
I looked eye to eye with the biggest javalina hog I had ever seen. This had to be a world record hog! This hog had those tusks that curled up on each side of its mouth, and they looked to be huge. Those tusks can do a lot of damage. I am standing in the road about twenty yards from this big fellow, and I am really hoping he decides to go on his way.
Well, that was not to be. I looked like a late afternoon snack for that hog and he came running. Those fellows can turn on a dime and give you nine cents change. I found that out when I dashed to the side to avoid being trampled and hooked with those tusks. I spotted a mesquite tree down the fence a ways from the gate, so I got there as fast as I could, and climbed to the first strong limb.
Javalina hogs are determined idiots. That hog kept ramming that tree and looking up to see if I had been jarred loose. This went on for what seemed like hours. It was perhaps only a few minutes before I spotted my Dad’s truck coming in from town.
By the time Dad’s truck pulled up to the gate, I knew he had seen where I was because I took my shirt off and waved it in the air. He also noted a giant javalina hog ramming the tree I was holding onto. I guess he did not realize how important it was for me to get out of that tree because he yelled at me, “Are you all right?” I wanted to say does it look like it? However, I said for the moment I was o.k. He opened the gate, drove his truck through, and closed the gate. I am thinking, “Well, first things first. Lets get the truck through the gate while your son is about to be attacked by a crazed javalina hog with foot long tusks.” The javalina was paying attention only to me and that tree. He did not see the rifle raised and fired. It was one of those model 94 Winchester .3030 rifles that would pretty well knock down any thing in the sites. That hog took two of those shots before he gave up and fell over dead.
I climbed down from my perch in the mesquite and stood on shaky legs while we both admired that big old hog. Of course, we had to throw it in the back of the truck to take up to the house so it could be dealt with later.
When we were both safely in the comfort of his truck, Dad came out with the twenty questions. What were you doing out here with that javalina. Don’t you know those things can kill a person? And on and on with the questions before I could answer a single one. As we pulled up to the barn close to the house, Dad spotted the pickup my brother and I use to get from the road to the house. And, it began to dawn on him that I might have been left behind at the second gate. After we unloaded the hog, Dad told me that was good thinking to get up in that tree to get away from the javalina, and that he was glad I was alright. He told me that he thought he needed to have a talk with my brother, so I should go feed the horses. Apparently, that talk took place. There was not a word mentioned about the javalina incident for years. My brother always wanted me to ride inside the truck with him from that day forward. He never played another trick to get me to miss the truck, and he sort of served as a protector from that day forward
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short stories 