Sometimes Life's A Drag
I was thinking about political correctness; how much I dislike it and how out of control it is and it reminded me of a fella named Cecil. I knew him about 30 years ago. I'll share this story about him with you. Cecil worked as a ranch hand on a large piece of property in Florida. He often worked at night patrolling the ranch, checking fence line security, monitoring the large cattle herd and generally looking after things. The ranch was out in the country and it was not unusual for night time visitors to be up to no good in the area. There were lots of wild turkey, hogs and deer in addition to cattle, so there was a lot to keep an eye on.
On night while on patrol Cecil discovered an armed poacher who had crossed a fence illegally and had entered the property to hunt. Cecil shined his truck high beams on the guy and pulled up to him. Cecil was also armed. He carried a .38 revolver. It was always unsettling to see Cecil's revolver. It looked old and worn and like it might come apart or explode if it was fired. The cylinder wobbled and the grips seemed to always look loose. It was somewhat intimidating.
The grazed pasture (where he was discovered) didn't give the fella a way to escape. Cecil got out of his truck, pulled his gun and pointed it at the poacher. He told the man to drop his gun. The man dropped his rifle. Cecil thought that since he still had several hours of patrolling left and the front gate to the ranch was over a mile away, the best thing to do under the circumstances was to take the man around to the back of his truck and tie him to the rear bumper.
For the rest of the night Cecil continued his routine; checking fence lines, making sure gates were closed and locked, securing ranch equipment and driving all over the thousands of acres of ranch property he had to secure. All the while the poacher being dragged behind his truck attached by a length of cowboy rope. Through mud holes, cow pies, palmettos and what ever else Cecil thought would remind the fella he might not have made the best decision coming onto the ranch that night. Cecil was a man of few words. He recalled that the poacher yelled an hollered and "squalled" some from behind the truck but Cecil said he really couldn't understand most of what he was saying. And besides Cecil said he didn't really like talking much while he was on patrol.
When it was about daylight and time for Cecil to end his shift he dragged the poacher up to the front entrance gate to the ranch, untied him and told him, "I don't want to see you around here anymore". Cecil said he didn't remember seeing the man after that night.
Someone once asked me a question about the best way of handling a law enforcement situation in a park. I remember joking that the answer could be found some place between Andy Griffith and Miami Vice. I believe Cecil found that place and may have had the perfect understanding of political correctness.
On night while on patrol Cecil discovered an armed poacher who had crossed a fence illegally and had entered the property to hunt. Cecil shined his truck high beams on the guy and pulled up to him. Cecil was also armed. He carried a .38 revolver. It was always unsettling to see Cecil's revolver. It looked old and worn and like it might come apart or explode if it was fired. The cylinder wobbled and the grips seemed to always look loose. It was somewhat intimidating.
The grazed pasture (where he was discovered) didn't give the fella a way to escape. Cecil got out of his truck, pulled his gun and pointed it at the poacher. He told the man to drop his gun. The man dropped his rifle. Cecil thought that since he still had several hours of patrolling left and the front gate to the ranch was over a mile away, the best thing to do under the circumstances was to take the man around to the back of his truck and tie him to the rear bumper.
For the rest of the night Cecil continued his routine; checking fence lines, making sure gates were closed and locked, securing ranch equipment and driving all over the thousands of acres of ranch property he had to secure. All the while the poacher being dragged behind his truck attached by a length of cowboy rope. Through mud holes, cow pies, palmettos and what ever else Cecil thought would remind the fella he might not have made the best decision coming onto the ranch that night. Cecil was a man of few words. He recalled that the poacher yelled an hollered and "squalled" some from behind the truck but Cecil said he really couldn't understand most of what he was saying. And besides Cecil said he didn't really like talking much while he was on patrol.
When it was about daylight and time for Cecil to end his shift he dragged the poacher up to the front entrance gate to the ranch, untied him and told him, "I don't want to see you around here anymore". Cecil said he didn't remember seeing the man after that night.
Someone once asked me a question about the best way of handling a law enforcement situation in a park. I remember joking that the answer could be found some place between Andy Griffith and Miami Vice. I believe Cecil found that place and may have had the perfect understanding of political correctness.
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