Over the years I have been approached by numerous folks to purchase raffle tickets. I have made it a principle to buy a few if the cost was small and the proceeds were going to a "good" cause.
One year, while visiting my wife's home in Hemphill, Texas, we went to a Bluegrass Festival in nearby Bronson, TX. They were selling tickets on numerous items that had been donated. Shotgun, BBQ Grill, etc. The drawings were held that day. They also sold tickets for a new Jeep. The drawing would be the next day and we would be heading back to Bevil Oaks.
I have been somewhat lucky in my lifetime as I have won a suit of clothes, a turkey, a case of whiskey and some smaller items. One time I bought tickets from the Beaumont Junior League. Since the tickets were only a dollar I bought ten. I filled them out with all the family names, including our Basset Hound, Tex. As luck would have it, Tex Wright's name was called at the formal function and he was the proud winner of a bottle of perfume. Fortunately, you did not have to be present to win. God only knows he could use the perfume.
Upon returning home from our weekend in Deep SE Texas, there was a note on the kitchen table from my daughter. It said to call a certain number that I had won a raffle. My immediate reactions was, "Hot Dog, I won that Jeep!" My daughter said, "No, it had something to do about winning a calf". I then remembered buying a ticket from a co-worker that was raising money for the Boy Scouts. I thought it was for a "side of beef". Upon calling the number I found out that it was a bull calf "on the hoof".
Since we already had horses and the pasture was fenced, I borrowed a stock trailer and drove to Spurger to pick him up. The calf was a full blooded beefmaster. We named him Bubba and begin to feed him. Bubba was not a friendly little fellow, but grew a little more comfortable around people at feeding time. After about six months, Bubba was getting a little size on him. I couldn't decide what to do with him. Jennifer wasn't interested in joining the FFA. The boys didn't rodeo. One day when I put his feed in the pen where I fed him, I closed the gate. Bubba looked around saw the gate closed and immediately jumped the fence. It was at that point I knew that my cow punchin' days needed to come to an end.
My friend from Tennessee, Bobby Ward, was visiting so the two of us roped Bubba and took him to the butcher. In a few days we had 450 pounds of beef. I filled the freezer and gave some meat to a neighbor. My other neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, wouldn't take any meat as she had got to know Bubba. My wife and daughter refused to eat anyone they knew.
For the next year Mike, Garrett and I ate well. One day we had HamBubbas, then BubbaBQ. We had Bubba loaf and Shish Ka Bubba. I think of Bubba every time I take my chlosterol medicine.
Some time I will tell you about raising chickens
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