Ben Elmo and Asleep at the Wheel

A happy, fun story for Labor Day weekend. And the story just happens to be true!

When my father died in July 1988, my mother decided to turn their weekend retreat at Round Top, Texas into a working farm. She joined the Fayette County Coop, and learned as much about cattle, donkeys, fencing, and haybaling as she possibly could. She invested in half a dozen good quality cows and one mean bull.

The first year or two, she concentrated on cross-fencing and water, so her livestock would be well-fed. She paid a few of the local guys to bale hay several times a year. But my fifty-three-year-old mother didn’t sit idly by while they worked. She’d be out there in the hot summer sun, tossing 50-lb bales onto the truck right along with the men. And when they stopped to rest, she’d keep working.

One neighbor in particular became a great help to my mother as she learned how to run a farm. Mildred was already in her late 70s or early 80s, but like Mama, she worked her farm - a much larger enterprise with several hundred head of cattle.

Country people with large farms or ranches tend to be rather unsentimental about their livestock. When a cow cannot nurse her calf, or when a sheep or goat has more babies than she can nurse, these country folk tend to let the calf or lamb or kid die. One day Mildred had a calf that would have to be bottle fed. Knowing that Mama was trying to build up her herd, she asked if Mama wanted it. But of course!

The calf was in pretty bad shape by the time Mama got it, but the challenge of rescuing the spindly-legged creature just added to the fun. Before long, the calf was healthy and grown up enough to graze on its own.

Mildred told her friends, who told their friends, and before long, my mother became the animal rescue lady in that corner of the world. In addition to the ubiquitous calves, Mama nursed a few Barbados lambs. Well, not a few - before long she had a nice little herd of those unusual-looking sheep.

Then she heard that a local farmer was planning to kill all his emus. He had raised them as an investment; emu meat was supposed to be the next “buffalo,” but the craze had never taken off. He was so angry that he was simply going to kill them. Mama convinced her neighbor to lend her a trailer and they rescued the entire flock.

Those crazy birds greatly rewarded her for her efforts. She’d sit on her back porch and watch them perform for her - they would break dance, spinning on their heads! I’ve never seen anything like it.

And then one day, a neighbor showed up with two tiny, tiny goats. I don’t remember whether their mother had died, or whether she had had four kids and could only feed two. But two kids had been abandoned. The neighbor asked if Mama wanted them. But of course!

One kid died almost immediately. The other tiny creature was solid black, not a speck of white anywhere on his body. He was so weak, so frail, Mama was sure he would die too.

She would sit for hours, holding him very close so he would have the warmth of her body as incubator. She bottle-fed him while watching TV or talking to friends. He was an “inside” goat; she converted a bathroom into his private pen. That first week, he almost died one night while she was feeding him. That made her more determined to get him well.

About this same time, we received an invitation from a cousin who was drummer for the Drifting Cowboys, the old Hank Williams Senior band. They were opening for Asleep at the Wheel in Conroe for a Memorial Day Weekend bash. Joey invited us to the concert.

Mama now faced a dilemma. Ben Elmo was only a few weeks old, still not stable. If she left him alone even for one night, he could die. She looked at the invitation, said, “Hmm, Conroe, can’t be too fancy. I’ll just take Ben Elmo with us!”

She fashioned a makeshift pen out of a large cardboard box, lined it with old towels, soft and comfy. Then she packed a “diaper bag” full of bottles of milk. And we headed to Conroe. Only to arrive and discover that the address was a four-star hotel and resort.

So what does my mother do? She picks up the box that holds Ben Elmo and marches straight inside the fancy-schmantzy banquet hall! Joey had arranged for us to sit with the band, and Ben Elmo turned out to be a huge hit. Mama correctly guessed that people would understand.

Well, in time Ben Elmo grew up. This tiny, tiny creature eventually stood 4-1/2 to 5 feet tall, on all fours. When he would rear back on his hind legs, he towered above everyone. He was, simply put, ginormous.

Ben Elmo was greatly insulted the day Mama put him outside with all the other animals. He had gotten used to being an inside goat and could not comprehend that he had to live with the Barbados sheep. We had to make sure the gate to the fence surrounding the house stayed closed. Otherwise, Ben Elmo would mosey over to the porch and wait for someone to open the door.

Once, we caught him just as he had started heading towards the house. Mama had left the back door open while she was taking care of something. We could see him start to make a beeline for the open door. So everyone within shouting distance started out after Ben Elmo, but he was too fast for all of us. He was inside the house and headed to HIS bathroom before we could even reach the back porch. You haven’t lived until you have tried to “convince” a ginormous black goat to leave your bathroom!

For all these animals, Mama was their mother. One afternoon I was washing dishes and happened to look out the window as Mama strolled across the field, probably checking water or feed levels. Just being.

Here she was, tiny and happy, that jaunty self-confidence and happiness that marked her gait. And she was trailed by an assortment of devoted friends: Barbados sheep, crazy emus, a stray guinea fowl or two, her three dogs (all rescues). With Ben Elmo at her right hand. Absolutely certain that that day, she would let him back in the house.

That merry line of creatures following my mother as she went about her daily tasks? It’s an image I will always associate with her life.

Happy Labor Day, friends!

Comments worth keeping

This is all so fabulous!!! Your descriptions are vivid and I was able to see the entire story unfold while I was reading. Thank you for sharing this with us. Here’s to the nurturers and the healers and the strong wild women out there everywhere.

--Sylvia G, September 4, 2026.

Such a joyful post! I love that your mom took in and cared for all of these unwanted critters. As a “certified” crazy cat lady, I can relate.

--Gwen Miertschin, September 4, 2026.

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