Golf Stinks And So Do Buffalo

My husband works as a fundraiser, and when he has a special event, he recruits as volunteers the three of us who live under his roof (he bribes us with promises of food, usually, and we fall for it every time).

This past weekend, he was in charge of a benefit golf tournament. We were conned into helping him not only with the promise of food, but with the promise that we'd get to drive golf carts around the course.

Sucker born every minute, right?

Here's what I've come away with from our two blistering hot days on the golf course:

I hate golf, but I love golf carts.

The tournament was held at a very upscale golf course. Part of the course was landscaped with creeks and waterfalls, all of which you would swear occurred naturally and all of which were man-made. The other part of the course was made to look like prairie, complete with buffalo, which is oddly interesting, since the course was built on high ground in the Ozark Mountains and nowhere near where buffalo once roamed on open prairie.

Fake.

Faaaake.

Real turkey.

The buffalo are segregated from the golfers. Pretty sure from two days of observing them that this is not for the buffalo's protection. The fencing around their share of the course was made from timbers, close to 6 feet tall and double thickness, and included an electric fence strung up adjacent to the wooden fence. You might look at that and think "suspenders AND a belt," but five minutes of buffalo watching will tell you that may not be enough fencing.

In the morning, some guy drives out to the top of a ridge in a Gator and puts feed in several troughs located there. As soon as the buffalo see that truck, they come a-running. 

There is a frightening similarity to a running buffalo and a running 25+ pound cat.

Buffalo are basically assholes. When they are eating at the trough, they push each other around and chase each other away, including pushing the babies away from the trough. When they aren't eating and biting each other, they are plotting how to start a stampede and kill all the humans (except maybe sparing the guy in the Gator).

You know how baby animals are always so cute? Not true with buffalo.

Not even so ugly it's cute. Just ugly.

They grunt like pigs, although any other comparison of a buffalo to a pig would be insulting to the pig.

Okay, one more comparison to a pig: buffalo smell much, much worse than pigs. My nose has now had experience with both

In spite of their bulk, they have rather dainty ankles and feet.

I found myself fascinated by them nonetheless, and made it my project to get one to come to the fence so I could feed him a pie.

These are surprisingly delicious.

Unlike a Dillon, buffalo cannot be bribed with pie.

The face of someone who spent two days
trying to get a buffalo to come get a pie.

The temperature was already 90 degrees as the golfers were arriving. When one of the golfers opined that he might melt out there, I told him the grounds keepers scoop up any golfer who collapses on the course and feed them to the buffalo. He thought that was so funny that he stole my line and used it on his golf partner without giving me any credit.  

The current trend in golfing is for men to dress like Easter eggs.

Golfers would much rather see the cheer cart with the beer on it than the golf cart with water and Gatorade, even if you also have pie.

These bottles on the side of a golf cart are not urinals.

Guys, don't pee in these. They're for
pouring sand into divots.

My kids drive golf carts like they're on a NASCAR track.

Emma driving another volunteer around.

No, I do NOT want to see how you can drive the
entire course only using the brake twice.

There is a thing called "skins" when playing golf, and it has nothing to do with playing without your shirt. Won't make THAT mistake again.

There was a report of a 6 foot blacksnake on the rocks around a tunnel under the road, but thank you, baby Jesus, we didn't see it.

The tunnel plus a considerable portion of the inside
of the golf cart. Trying to get a picture before
Mario Andretti roared on through it.

The weekend confirmed that I am not outdoorsy. Anyone surprised?