Why it keeps going wrong.

A few year ago I was at a Rodeo at the Rawhide rodeo grounds. Harvey Wallbanger was the featured entertainment. For you non-rodeo types, Harv, (that’s what his friends call him) is a full grown American Bison, that’s right, a Buffalo. His handler/trainer was supposed to ride him in the arena and right up a very steep ramp to the top of an 18 wheeler trailer, 13 feet off the ground. No horse could make that steep a grade to the rail-less trailer top. I though it would be interesting to see a saddle on a Buffalo and because I was also a vendor at the Rodeo, I could get to places away from public viewing. The rider did enter the arena and ride to the top of the trailer as publicized. It was impressive, but not nearly as impressive as the show before the show. I had my own horse at the time and wanted to watch the handler saddle Harvey. By the time I got to the staging area I saw Harv locked in a narrow 6” heavy gage steel pipe loading shute. I don’t speak much buffalo, but it was fairly obvious that Harv did not like the arrangements. The handler was just standing there, saddle at his side waiting for Harv to settle down. When he approached, it was with extreme caution to avoid the lighting fast side kicks of the caged beast. After a few minutes the handler slid up next to Harvey, saddle at the ready. I noted he was not going to use a saddle blanket and instead of the usual cinch strap there was a quick tie down, like the ones you see holding a motorcycle in a truck bed. Speaking in soft gentle tone something that sounded like, please harv, don’t kill me, the handler eased the saddle up over the high top rail and gently settled in on Harvey’s withers then jumped back 6 feet like his life depended on it…which it appeared to me it did! While Harvey remained in the steel enclosure, the saddle did not! I cleared the top rail easily with what looked like little more than a shrug of his hairy shoulders. Over the next 10 minutes or so that scene was repeated several more times with the exact same results. Finally Harvey allowed the saddle to sit atop his ribs, the cinch straps hanging down on the far side. The trainer pulls out a 6 foot piece of heavy copper wire, about the size they use for grounding a house electrical panel. Cat like he crawled up beside the waiting saddle launcher and tried to slip the wire under Harvey to hook the hanging cinch strap and pull it back without touching the very sensitive belly. Like the jaws of a gator snap shut if you touch its tongue, Harv would go ballistic if he felt anything touch his belly. Buffalos may not know rifle ballistics, but they sure know when a cowboy is within range of one of their divided hooves. Turning his head to get a more accurate measurement of the distance, Harv was poised to launch the cowboy solo into the arena. Harv would flinch, fake or threatening a kick, I don’t know which. The cowboy would jump back quick as a springing mouse trap only to start all over again. Several times I swear I could see a smirk on Harv’s face, (that is if a buffalo can smirk) and I am nearly sure I heard him laugh, at least that is what it sounded like to me. Finally the handler managed to snag the cinch strap, leaving it loose enough to avoid the ticklish tummy hairs and thread it through the one way locking buckle. With a fast and mighty tug the cowboy leaped up off the rail, strap in hand and in one mighty heave secured the saddle to the now very active bison. It was obvious now why it was a 6” heavy guage steel pipe corral. Lesser stuff would have folded like a pretzel. All this time I had remained observant and SILENT, not wanting to participate in any way in this suicide ritual. The handler looked at me and said something to the effect, that went well, he usually puts up quite a fuss? He went on to explain he had been doing this EVERY DAY, show or no, for 2 years, amplifying that if he missed a day Harvey Wallbanger would forget everything he had ever learned.
Some times when I am thinking about not taking the time to fellowship with my Lord I could swear someone, somewhere whispers in an inaudible but beckoning plea…. Harv?..... Have you ever heard it?