by Sharron Moore

Created on: May 21, 2008   Last Updated: July 31, 2008

There is one aspect of growing up on HWY 66 now called I-40 that few people even think about. The road leads to many ranchs and feed lots that raise cattle.

My mother remarried when I was eight years old. Thankfully I had a sense of humor which was tested many times to the point of becoming great. My stepfather drove a truck that picked up dead cows. My father's family had the local hide company so I wasn't completely surprised with the thought of a dead cow. Leather had played a major part of our lives, due to the abundance. There were tanned cow hides in the den for rugs and my grandmother made us leather covered binders with our names stamped on them for school. Our blankets were made from the wool that was shaved from sheep that my grandparents raised. Live cows and sheep were part of our lives and we understood that after they lived a good life they would grow old and die. We had no idea about the part where my grandparents would make the most out of every part of their carcass.

The night my mother married my stepfather a cattle truck wrecked and so they went on their honeymoon and picked up all the dead cows. The job was necessary for our family to eat and for ranchers and farmers to have the animals removed from their property. We soon had a family joke about the cows demise coming from old age thus a fall over dead, or dying of disease. As you can imagine this subject had to be treated with laughter due to the embarrassment especially because we were all three girls between the ages of 4 and 12. At that point in life just about everything is embarrassing so the thought of anyone knowing our new father picked up dead cows was the ultimate embarrassment.

They married on the first of July and it was immediately decided that I would go on the truck with him while my older sister watched over my baby sister. I was woken up at 3AM on Monday through Friday and spent the summer I turned nine riding in the truck with my new parent. We lived in the Texas panhandle and would go as far as Kansas many days. My job was buzzard watch. That meant I used my eagle eyes to spot circling birds as that was the sure sign of the location of the dead animal. In the heat of the summer you had no problem locating them after spotting the buzzards because the closer you got the smell would lead your way. Bear in mind we were on dirt roads usually on the back "forty". When we came to the dead cow my stepfather would jump out and pull the cable attached to the wench and wrap it around the neck. My job was to remain in the truck watching his signals to push in the knob so the wench would start pulling the animal in the truck. Amazing as it may seem by days end we would have a truck full with feet sticking up over the top and if a cow landed right sometimes their heads were hanging over the side. The heat from the sun would cause the cow to bloat which meant they expanded and their tongues stuck out. Luckily the plant was on the opposite side of town from our house and we didn't get home until after midnight many nights after unloading the truck and refueling for the next day.

During that time in my life I was petrified that anyone would know where I spent my days or rather how. I soon learned that he was making a living and after our world had been torn open from the divorce he had taken on a woman with three small children and was willing to work 20 hours a day to make a home for us. I learned to laugh at the situation and even made a needlepoint picture for their office that had a cow laying on his back, feet to the sky, en-scripted with Ye Olde Dead. Buzzard watch taught me the value of hard work and the ability to laugh again.

Learn more about this author, Sharron Moore.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.