Saddling Up

[orvet]

I grew up in the mountains of southern Oregon on Dead Indian Road. The Dead Indian country was ranching country. The electrical lines only ran about 4 miles up the road from the airport and we were 9 miles from the airport. Because of this I grew up little bit different than most people; no electricity, no television, no radio except for my crystal set which, if conditions were right, could get the country-western station until 8 PM when they went off the air.

I was 12 when we moved to the Dead Indian country. I help my dad build a log cabin out of 5 x 5 rough-cut cedar timbers and I grew up around livestock. Every summer I worked for one of the ranchers down the road named Henry Lannini. At that time Henry was about 40 years old. When his brothers had moved off the ranch to get married and raise families of their own, Henry stayed home and took care of his mother and the range. Henry was one of the nicest people you'll ever meet but he had a few quirks. Henry was very fond of Copenhagen. He also smoked cigarettes but due to the nature of ranch work often in dry dusty conditions, I think he really preferred Copenhagen. While it was only about 10 miles to the nearest store, he rarely went to town more than once a week unless he ran out of Copenhagen. He could run out of cigarettes, no problem we wouldn't go to town. He could run out of beer and we still wouldn't go to town, but if he ran out of Copenhagen we dropped what we were doing and drove the 10 miles to the nearest store so he could pick up a roll Copenhagen.

One summer I stayed with Henry and his mother, known affectionately to all the locals as Grandma Lannini, for about a month. We were up early in the morning before daybreak and we would work till three or four in the afternoon when it got too hot. We would knock off work for the day, go back to the ranch house and have dinner so we could go to bed early and start all over again the next morning.

Most of the land up the Dead Indian Road was open range; rangeland managed by BLM or the US Forest Service. On this one particular morning we got up before daylight, ate breakfast and went out and saddle the horses. We were going up that morning to check some of the rangeland and to move some of the cattle into areas with better pasture. I saddled up old Charlie, the gelding I normally rode, and Henry saddled up his horse. I heard him say "dammit." I asked, "What's the matter Henry?" "I broke my bridal strap," he said. Then he said, "Hang on, and I'll go fix it." As I finish saddling up Charlie, Henry went into the tack shed. I heard a little hammering and then I heard the most awful noise I had ever heard a human being make in my life. I ran into the tack shed to see what sort of critter had gotten hold of Henry and was making him make such an awful noise. I saw Henry on his knees on the floor by an anvil with his bridle on it. "Are you okay Henry?" I asked. "Yeah, whueeeee,” he said, “just, whueeeee swallowed my chew,” he said. After a few more “whueeeees” he came out of the tack shed, put the bridle on his horse and swung into the saddle.

At this point he got a real puzzled look on his face and started searching his pockets. I could tell he was missing something. He checked his shirt pocket, his vest pockets and finally he found it; his can of Copenhagen. He took out a big dip, packed it in his lip and said, "Okay, now we can go."
Thus began a typical day on the ranch.

[Cutty]

Great story Orvet

I've swallowed my dip a time or two and whueeewee is exactly what I said. Henry sounds like a tuff old boy.

It's about time for a trip to town for me, now that you mention it.

[philco]

Good story Dale.

I never could manage to dip. Every time I tried, that snuff wandered all over my mouth and ended up causing me to gag and spit it out. I never could keep it in one spot. Chewing tobacco was quite another story. I loved it, but gave it up when I quit smoking cigarettes eight years ago yesterday.

I'd be willing to bet ole Henry didn't have any worms after swallowing that tobacco.

[orvet]

Good story Dale.

I'd be willing to bet ole Henry didn't have any worms after swallowing that tobacco.

Funny you should mention that Phil.
If we had a horse or cow that had worms, Henry would get out his can of Cope, take a huge dip of about half a can and stick it in the horses mouth and hold his mouth shut so he had to swallow it.

Within half an hour that horse would crap and there were white worms crawling out of the road apples before they hit the ground. I have personally seen that on more than one occasion.

If course if Henry was low on Copenhagen, the animal would have to wait 'till he got another can.

[Aimus Moses]

I started dipping Skoal snuff when I was 9 years old. One of my brothers (I have enough of them that Dad could've started his own baseball team) got me started on it. My Mother and Dad being Christian folk didn't allow us boys anything like that so we would sneak and do it. One hot summer day Dad had me to cut the grass. I was out of snuff and not a brother in sight so, I seen my cousin walking down the road and I ran and asked for a dip. He dipped Copenhagen. I'd never dipped Copenhagen before. It was every bit of 95 to 100 degrees that day. My Dad having been in the military always wanted the grass cut a certain way and would call you on it if it wasn't his way. Well, I'm pushing that mower for a while and I get to the slanted part of the yard thats above the main road. My head started going round and round like I was on a circus ride then the next thing I knew I was laying in the road. Dad thought for sure I was hurt bad but I was too drunk to be hurt. When I seen him come running to me I got scared that he would catch me with the dip so I swallowed it. (What could I do? He was looking right at me when he was running) After he got me up, I staggered worse than any drunk man you've ever seen. He helped me to the house and set me down. It took about 10 minutes for that swallowed Copenhagen to finish doing it's thing, then I blew my cookies. Dad told Mom that he thought I had a head concussion. Mom was looking in my eyes then my ears to see if my brain was running out of them I guess. To the hospital we go. The DR. said I was ok after running a bunch of tests and putting me in a big tube. On the way home Dad said I wasn't going to cut the grass again. Those older boys can do that. That was fine by me. Was it worth getting sick? Well, I got out of cutting the grass for about 2 years for it. That first time dipping Copenhagen made me higher than any drug I could have took. My brothers threatened to throw up on me in front of Dad to get back at me for not having to cut the grass.

Aimus

[Quick Steel]

Aimus Moses, now that is a choice story.