By Angie Kokes
Midsummer 1995, just out of my teens, and still wet behind the ears in the ways of the world, I’d begun to stretch my wings and discover the ample amount of crazy the Good Lord had blessed me with. An early morning ride thru the pasture on my paint horse Monkey Man for a quick check of some cows was about to reveal that ample was probably not the proper word to describe the amount of crazy about to get unleashed. Crickets chirping and the swoosh of my rope as I swung it at my side offered the only sound as Monkey’s lope brought us over the crest of a hill. My gaze turned as quickly as Monkey engaged the emergency brake and there he stood, just a stone or in my bad decision-making case, a rope throw away…an adorable little basket rack whitetail buck.
Even though I had grown up in a non-deer hunting family, I had been hunting whitetails at that point for 5 years and had harvested several bucks, all at several hundred yards with a rifle. Up to this day I had never been up close to a living, breathing, whitetail buck and no one had ever told me it would be a bad idea to rope a buck. An unbelievably bad idea!
But here I was, cowgirl, horse, rope, whitetail buck! What on earth could go wrong? And how many people can say they’ve roped a buck? I could hear these questions swirling in my head like water rushing through dam gates with a deafening roar that had long drown out any whisper of common sense. Any inkling of rational thinking left in my body was devoured by the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. This little guy had no idea what was about to happen and yet he just stood there and stared at me like I was an alien, dropped from the sky. With caution tossed to the wind, I figured I would just throw a big loop and let him run right thru it. I never fully intended to catch him, and again rational thinking had left the pasture. As if in I dream, I watched the most beautiful loop float thru the air right on target, it was spot on perfect as it hit the back of his antlers and continued forward. Still fully enthralled in my dream world my mind was saying this is epic! You are a Rockstar! Reality was quickly crawling into bed with me and it had other plans for a vastly different ending. The buck, now certain I was an alien was moving forward to get the heck out of dodge while Monkey had woken up and decided this was a dream he wanted no part of. With the buck moving forward and away and Monkey moving sideways and far, far away, the rope came tight around that rack faster than I could blink myself back into reality. The preverbal poo got real in a hurry and I was neck deep in it. All I could think was shit, it’s a brand-new rope, I ‘m a broke college kid, I cannot afford another one! And so, off the horse I went with a jerk, two hands gripping that rope as tight as I could. I’ve water skied before, but let me tell you, skiing face first behind a crazed buck thru grass is Z-E-R-O fun! One would have thought to just let go, but I am no quitter and this little buck had not yet begun to shred my ego.
He screamed like a hyena and I would have to if it were not for the mouth full of grass and who knows what else I was gagging on. He smacked a tree headfirst in the bottom of the deepest canyon he could find as he tried to lose the alien dragging behind him. Frothing at the mouth and still screeching had me wondering if he was rabid. I have no doubt he thought the same of me. Still no quitter, I figured now’s my chance! Tangled in rope and tree I thought I’ll just sneak in and loosen that loop and we can both get on with our day. Lord almighty though! With every buck I had harvested with a gun I never thought to feel how sharp those dang hooves are! Razor blade sharp! And who knew they could reach up and punch with them like Mike Tyson on steroids. Spawn of Satan on crack cocaine is what I had snubbed to a tree and I was losing this battle ugly. Very, very ugly! Every time I thought he was played out another burst of energy would recharge him like he had been hit with a bolt of lightning, and the rope was getting looser and farther away from my snubbing tree. His lightening was my kryptonite, sucking every breath and any strength I had left to hold on. One last burst of kicks, strikes and screams like I would rather never experience again and poof he was gone, dragging my new rope behind him.
I laid in that canyon gasping for air and spitting up grass for longer than I care to admit before I could muster the energy to even move and begin the walk home. When Monkey got the heck out of dodge, that is where he went, home. I guess he figured if I was going to be that crazy, he didn’t want any part of it. At that point I was just grateful no one had seen anything, and I had not thought to take stock of what I looked like as I made my way down into the yard where Grandpa was standing, holding Monkey Man. The look on his face said you are not getting away with anything and the horse standing next to him bobbing his head up and down like a little tattle tale did not help either. Grandpa asked, “where’s that nice new rope you left with this morning?” He knew exactly what I had done. He followed it with, “you hurt?” And, “best not tell your folks if you want to keep your horse.” Thank goodness Grandpa had gotten to the age where he was doing crazy old people stuff and so it had become an unspoken rule after I sat the jeep back up he’d tipped over in the same pasture a few months earlier, that we would have each other’s backs, and keep each other’s indiscretion’s to ourselves.
With my ego and pride severely bruised, the sleeves torn on my shirt, grass in places I didn’t even know existed and a face that looked like I’d been in a fight with a psychotic cat, at Grandpa’s suggestion I did the best I could to clean up and head to work.
Work in those day was for the Kokes family as a farm/ranch hand. Adam the oldest son had been a great friend for a couple of years, and we had recently started dating. To say he was shaken up when he saw me is an understatement. He was sure I had been jumped by someone and beaten severely and he wanted to kill whoever had done it. I was too embarrassed to tell him it was my own doing, but with the threat of him going on a rampage against someone completely innocent I finally spilled the beans…to laughter, way too much laughter. And a, “what on earth were you thinking?” “You could have been killed!” Which was super helpful to know after the fact! At any rate, the cat was out of the bag and he took it well, which re-inflated my ego as he chuckled sporadically throughout the day and kept mumbling, she roped a deer!
Fast forward several months and Adam popped the question and I may be crazy but I’m not stupid so I said yes in a hurry because I know there’s only one man out there with enough grit in his guts to put up with my kind of crazy! Grandpa had to make sure he had what it takes. We had stopped by to tell him our news and he promptly asked Adam to come with him. He had no idea I’d ever told anyone what had happened that day, and so out to the shop they headed where Grandpa handed Adam half of an aged Willard head rope he’d found out in the pasture a few months earlier. He asked, “do you know what this is?” Adam nodded his head yes and against even the strongest warning signs from Grandpa we still said I do a few months later. I have always figured warning signs were just a suggestion, thankfully Adam does too!