Back On The Farm
Howdy.
I was born and raised on a farm where we grew our own
food and kept hogs, cattle, horses, chickens, etc. I
was raised similar to the ways my own Dad was raised,
learning to drive tractors, plant gardens, take care of
livestock, and so on. And every once in a while, Dad
would tell us a story from when he was a kid. Boy howdy,
I though we were ornery kids...well not compared to my
Dad and his four brothers. They got into every kind of
meanness a person could think of...and believe you me,
there's a lot of them. This page is dedicated to Dad
and will have some of the stories he's told us kids.
The Kicking Cow
Growing up in the fourties and fifties, my Dad and his brothers had
a pretty hard life even as kids. Every morning at 4:30
they'd roll out of bed and head for the barn to do the
milking. If you've ever milked a cow (I know I'm talking
to a very limited audience now) you know it takes some
getting used to for both of you...cows have to get used
to being milked and you have to learn how. There's
always a few cows that give you a hard time...they don't
like being milked and they aren't afraid of letting you
know it. They'll kick the bejeepers out of you before
you even know it.
As the years went by, Dad's older brothers grew up and
got jobs or entered the military, so most of the farm
work fell upon him and his older brother Donnie. This
one particular morning Dad and Donnie (13 and 14 years
old respectively) went to milk the cows. They'd had
some trouble with this one young cow before, so Dad always
watched her real close when he milked. He was three-fourths
the way done when that cow gave a big kick and sent Dad
flying. She had caught the stool Dad was sitting on and
threw him clear across the room (around 10 feet), plus spilled
the milk in the meantime. When Dad got up he was fighting
mad (always did have a bit of a temper). He figured it
was about time she learned a lesson about kicking. He
grabbed a hedge walking stick about 6 feet long and
commenced beating. He hit her on the sides, the back,
the head...nowhere was safe. Her hair flew in all directions
each time he hit her, but she was stancioned and couldn't
run away. She tried to kick him every time he hit her,
but she never caught him. Dad beat her until he was plumb
tired out...he couldn't give another lick. Dad felt she
had had enough to learn her lesson, but Donnie thought
otherwise. He took the hedge from Dad and beat the cow
some more. Donnie beat her until she got down on her knees
and bellowed. That meant she'd had enough...she was
begging for him to stop...and he did. But that was the
most pitiful looking cow you'd ever seen...half her hair
was beat off and the rest looked terrible. Big patches
here and there of her hide showing through...she looked
horrible. And Dad and Donnie were half afraid of what
Grandpa was going to say...but nothing ever came
of it. They hadn't kill her or hurt her too awful bad
so Grandpa didn't mind. As for the cow, she never kicked
again.
Donnie's Revenge
A few years after the fore-related story, Donnie found
himself in a similar position as what Dad had. It had
been Donnie's turn to milk this one mean old cow but she
hated to be milked and was constantly kicking. This morning
it was Donnie who got kicked. He didn't fly across the
room, but he sure did get mad (I think tempers run pretty
high in my family). He got up off the floor and sat
down on the milking stool again...and she tried to kick
him again. But this time he was ready for it. He dodged
the kick, drew back his fist, and hit her as hard as he
could right behind her front leg. For all you bovine
anatomists out there, you can immediately see why. For
the rest of you, that's where her heart was and it's a
very sensitive place on cattle. Donnie hit her hard
enough that she got down on her knees and wheezed for
air. Cows don't normally make the sound they were hearing
and it worried them. Both Dad and Donnie thought he had
killed her...sounded like a death-rattle to them. She
knelt there for hard on fifteen minutes before she could
even get up again and she was still wheezing. Well, they
finished their milking, went back to the house, and told
Grandpa what had happened. They all figured she'd be
dead by the next day. But when they got up at 4:30
the following morning and went milking, there she was...still
alive (but not kicking, if you'll pardon the pun). She
lived several years after that and had been a good
milking cow ever since. All it took was good lick to
teach her a lesson...and she never forgot.
Well, hope you liked the "tails" so far...there's lots
of others, but it takes a while to get them on here. Thanks
for visiting and I hope you come back soon. Have a nice day!
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Email: zwampee@yahoo.com
