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COLUMN: Living on the range with that dreaded blue box of chains

Cowboy poet and veterinarian Baxter Black writes about the ranching life in his column "On the Edge of Common Sense." (www.baxterblack.com)

I had just finished loading 184 seven-foot steel T-posts, old ones, by the way, in my pickup and was unloading a mere 24 bales of hay from the front section of my gooseneck stock trailer.

 It was a hot, humid afternoon in early fall when the dead branches begin to stick out of the cottonwood greenery, and the garden starts goin’ to heck and no one cares. I could almost smell the cumin from Ramon’s #6 Combination Plate being distilled in my sweat from lunch earlier. 

Then I saw the blue box. The dreaded blue box. It was still in the stock trailer. It needed to be moved.

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