Issue link: http://read.dmtmag.com/i/178275
68 • OCTOBER 2013 • WORLD FENCE NEWS Big Foot on the loose! Giant footprints turn horse fencers into chickens BY JIM HART WFN CONTRIBUTING EDITOR EMERITUS In remembrance of long-time World Fence News contributing editor Jim Hart, we will occasionally reprint articles from past issues. Here is one of his classics from 1987. Sadly, Jim passed away a few years ago, but his unique fence humor lives on. • • • I was sittin' here musing over a random thought – Greatness! All aspire to it in one way or another. We all want to be remembered for something, and leave our footprints in the sands of time like the dinosaurs. Well, if I may be permitted to brag a little, I think I succeeded the other day in making an imprint on the earth! When it absolutely, positively has to be tight… Use a PulJak! THE FENCEMAN'S FRIEND STRETCHES • LIFTS • ALIGNS • CLAMPS MODEL A–21⁄2 ® FOR: TIGHT CORNERS, SHORT PULLS, GATES ONLY Designed for those "Impossible" jobs $95.90 PulJak® Company LLC P.O. Box 449 • Branford, CT 06405 PHONE: (203) 500-2520 • FAX: (203) 738-1088 E-mail: puljak@comcast.net Visit us on the Web at www.puljakusa.com We got a call from a desperate man – a barn and corral building contractor – who couldn't get anyone to put in about seven miles of 3-board horse fence around one of his jobs. He said he would supply everything: tractor-mounted auger, air-driven nail guns and portable compressor, saws, nails, girls, whiskey, whatever it took! I asked about money when he first called, and he said, "Yeah, sure, I'll throw some of that in, too. Can you do the job? I needed it done last week; no one wants to work anymore. I called everybody in the fence business and they said they weren't interested. Told me to get some cowboy fencers to do it! You are my last hope!" I says, "Well, thanks a lot, Hoss!" Now, I ain't no cowboy fencer either. I got into cattle country years ago when they were paying the scorpions to stay out here! My potential customer said the owner checked it out. All it needed was water and grass and it would flourish. An irrigation system was going in after the fence was built, if he ever got one built! So who am I to argue the point? I wander all over the place, and figure we'll have to pour water in each hole to keep it from caving in. It's going to be hot! The glare off the white sand is terrible. I have to get the crew some Dr. Scholl's foot pads. The heat is cooking my feet through my boots. Sunglasses for everyone, etc. I'm wonderin' where I can get some of the new Army thermal underwear that keeps you warm or cool, as the occasion arises! Well, long about now I comes across some huge footprints in the sand. I don't believe it; the guy who made them must be a brute! The things are 14 inches long, five inches wide. I sit down on a fallen pine and look at 'em in wonderment! While I'm sitting there staring, a kid comes cross the desert on a dirt bike. He spots the footprints, jams on the brakes, looks at 'em and his eyes get big as saucers. He looks all around, but don't see me sitting right in front of him. I ask him what time it is, but he don't hear me. He looks around again with that scared, wide-eyed stare, then jams the bike's throttle wide open and leaves the scene with the front wheel of the bike six feet in the air. Well, now it's panic time. The kid's obviously a native to these parts, and if he knows who made the prints and was scared of whatever it was, I'm going to scream and run, too! I beat a hasty retreat back to the barn. I mention the prints to the customer, who, as it turns out, is a Big Foot nut. He says, "Lead me to 'em. I take him back to the spot; he examines 'em real close. He says it ain't no Big Foot, cause Big Foot don't wear boots. "Matter of fact," he says, "I know who made these prints." Good for you, I says, I wouldn't want to tangle with this guy in a dark alley, let me tell you! Look at the size of them things! The beast must weigh 800 pounds to sink 'em that deep! "Well, I wouldn't exactly say that much," the customer says. "I figure he's about 230-250, actually." "You can tell all that from a footprint?" I says. "How do you know all that?" "I'm looking at the guy who made 'em," says the customer. Holy cow, the monster's right here with us, I thinks, and the hair crawls up the back of me neck. I look around and don't see no one. Where is he? Right here with me, he says. It's you who made the prints! They're the same as the ones right behind you that you just made comin' in. You must have walked in circles and come up on your own prints! Heh, heh, heh!! By Godfrey, he was right! My new boots fitted exactly, allowing for edge crumble that made the prints look bigger! Oh well, one more of life's embarrassing little moments. Well, as I said, I made my mark on the earth, for what it's worth. At least some scared kid will remember me!!