What does a poor farmer do when he first has one daughter, then two years later another daughter, and then two years later another daughter. Then ten years later...guess what....a little son!!
This was dad's story. I got to be the "boy" on some occasions. He did hire a young strong man for a few summers, but he took it upon himself to "try and teach me a few details about farming." To me it was FUN!! To him....well, I'll let you decide that at the end of this post!!
Dad had a hog operation while we were growing up. It was a farrow to finish business. It wasn't fancy by any means. He had to work hard at it, but he enjoyed every minute. Dad loved animals and was very gentle with them, so his pigs got top care!
His "farrowing barn" was an old white barn type building he remodeled into his farrowing barn. There was an aisle down the middle, and on both sides Dad had built five individual pens for each sow. In each individual pen he nailed a 2x4 across the corner and hung a heat lamp in there. That was where the babies went to lay away from momma. Bright, yellow straw covered the old cement floor, and as soon as you stepped in you could smell that clean straw mixed with a pig smell. I loved it!!
At one end of the building was a walk in door. Just inside that door stood an old wood stove, its chimmey running through the ceiling, up through the attic and on out the roof. In the winter he would have that old stove roaring and smoke would pour out the chimney, making that old barn as cozy as our old farm house. At the opposite end was a larger door. Every morning and every night, Dad would bring a sow out of her pen, down that aisle and out that door. There was a pen out there with some low feeding troughs. He would take all ten sows out there. He would put some ground grain in five gallon buckets, cover it with water, and stand there stirring it with a stick until it was all mushy. You should have seen those momma's when he dumped that good stuff in those troughs!! They would take a big mouth full, and as they chomped it down , would run to the other trough, grain and water running all down their face. They definitely were hogs!
After they had cleaned it all up, Dad would start taking each individual sow back to her pen. They were all white....their babies were all white, but sure enough, he knew exactly which pen to put them in.
Quite often that straw had to be removed and clean straw put down. That was one job I was "invited" to help with. When the momma's were happily eating, we would take our pitchforks and carry load after load of that old wet straw out the back door into an old manure spreader setting there hooked to dad's little red tractor. Then in came the new little square straw bale. He would cut the twine with his pocket knife and the bale would fall to peices. We would gather some in our arms and spread it all over that old cement floor.
There was another job dad let me help with and I remember feeling really big and grown up and important when I helped with this job!! Dad gave each liter of baby pigs an iron shot. Dad would fill that little syringe with that dark black iron. I would catch every baby pig, and put them in a box. When he was ready I would hold up a pig by its hind legs and dad would give it a shot in the muscle. We would go from pen to pen until they all had their shot. I would stand there, dreaming of someday becoming a veterinarian!
Just west of the sow pen, dad had a fenced in dirt area for fat hogs. He didn't have "automatic" waterers, but instead he had old water heaters that had been cut in half. They sat every which way there close to the fence. There was a water hose laying outside the fence next to a hydrant. It was my total responsibility to keep them full of water at all times! It usually went well...all except one hot summer afternoon.
Before dad went to the field he told me "Now you be 100% sure that you keep water out for those 50 fats this afternoon. We could loose them if they run out. You may even need to spray them down once or twice. Do you hear me? I'm depending on you!!"
I got busy doing something like kids do and about 3:00 mom asked me "Have you checked the hog water?"
"Oh no...I forgot!" I slipped on my flip flops and tore to the pen.
The troughs were dry!! Every last one of them!! Fat pigs were laying everywhere panting. My stomach became S I C K!! I could hear my dads words "I'm depending on you."
I grabbed the hose, turned on the hydrant and jumped over the gate. I started to fill one trough. Pigs came running from everywhere. They banged into me and pushed me down. Up I jumped and tried to get water in another trough. Here they came...shoving me away!! I tripped and off came my flip flops. I was barefoot. Pigs were squealing everywhere....pushing and shoving trying to get that water. I didn't know what to do!!
"Get out of there!" It was mom.
I made my way to the fence and over it. "Where are your shoes?"
"In there somewhere!"
"Oh honey they could have killed you!"
"I know, but I could have killed them! All of them! What do I do? I can't get enough water in the troughs!" I hollered above the squealing.
"I'd spray them down real good. Make some water puddles."
So I sprayed and sprayed. Soon they were getting cooled off and I could fill the troughs!! I never did find my flip flops. A small price to pay for my forgetfulness!!
Out in that large dirt pen stood 2 or 3 "pig feeders". They each held a ton of feed. They were round and about 5-6 feet tall. Well you see, not only did pigs eat from them, but those sneaky little mice and rats loved it! That is until the day dad would say to us girls, "Well today is the day to clean out the rats." I use to look forward to this until one terrible day in spring.
Dad would back his little red tractor up to a feeder and tie one end of a long chain to the feeder and the other to the tractor. We girls would stand around that feeder with our sticks raised in the air. We had a little black and white rat terrier dog. He loved these days!! He stood there his little stub tail going a mile a minute, eyes glued on that feeder.
Dad would start to pull and out would run rats in every direction!! In would go Jenks for the kill!! Us girls were suppose to start getting them with our sticks. One rat was running for his life! He must have saw a place of refuge in my jeans leg, because he was in and up my leg before I knew what was happening!! To this day, just talking about it sends shivers up my spine!! I'll tell you what, I went berserk!! I really thought my heart would stop right there on the spot!! I danced around there like doing the Indian war dance! Also, right there my jeans came off! The end of that job for me....thank you very much!!
Then there was the field work! I wasn't allowed to help much but when I could it was a learning experience, I'll tell you! For both dad and myself. You see, dad was dealing with a "know it all" teenager. I was dealing with a soft spoken father. I couldn't always "understand" his wording, you might say!
Dad had this little two wheeled grain cart he used at wheat harvest. That little machine was handy but a bear to back up! It just didn't want to go straight! Well...one hot afternoon dad told me to bring it and the tractor to the shed over at grandpa and grandma Dorothy's. I was to drive it in and park it. I THOUGHT he said back it in! After all, he always did!
I pulled it up in front of that big door on the south end of the shed, got it all straight and start to back. Grandma Dorothy came running out to help me. She stood over to the side in the hot sun telling me to turn the front to the left....now to the right. If I remember right that old tractor did not have power steering! I would crank it one way then the other. Then forward and try again. We were getting hotter by the minute!! That door could have been a mile wide and I still couldn't hit it!!
Finally, after....oh I don't know...maybe an hour of that we DID get it in!! Hot wasn't a big enough word to explain ourselves!! You should have seen the concern on mom's face when I walked in the house with a beet red face! Then when I mentioned grandma Dorothy, the concern grew! When dad got home he just merely said "All I asked you to do was open up those doors and drive it straight in!" Like grandma Dorothy would always say "All's well that ends well!"
Have you ever dealt with "teenage dispositions?" Well it isn't always the easiest thing to keep a right spirit when you face that situation, but my dad did pretty well!
He and I were going to bale up a field of alfalfa. I was driving the tractor pulling the little square baler. Hooked behind the baler was a flat trailer. On the trailer was dad. His job was to stack the bales on the trailer as they came out of the baler. The alfalfa field was about a quarter of a mile long. Long beautiful rows of dark green hay lay there. I started down the first row, the sound of the old baler making its clicking sound. I guess I was too engrossed in my own dreams because at the end of the row dad stopped me and said "Would you please look back and check on me once in a while?"
That is when the "teenage attitude" set in. "Why did I have to do such a dumb thing?" So instead of obeying, I put both hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead! On and on I went, the old baler making its clicking noise. I was pretty close to the end of the row when I decided to look back for some reason.
Well, even a teen feels a bit silly when she sees bales piled every which way on the trailer, plus bales laying here and there on the ground, AND her dad calmly WALKING a few miles behind!! He had decided to teach me one of his "silent" lessons. I wasn't looking back so he just quietly jumped off and let me go!! Well....once again...."All's well that ends well!"
One thing I remember dad telling my "husband to be" was "Good luck in teaching her how to farm!!" I could see the smile on his old face and.... didn't I hear a note of sadness? I love you Dad!!
This was dad's story. I got to be the "boy" on some occasions. He did hire a young strong man for a few summers, but he took it upon himself to "try and teach me a few details about farming." To me it was FUN!! To him....well, I'll let you decide that at the end of this post!!
Dad had a hog operation while we were growing up. It was a farrow to finish business. It wasn't fancy by any means. He had to work hard at it, but he enjoyed every minute. Dad loved animals and was very gentle with them, so his pigs got top care!
His "farrowing barn" was an old white barn type building he remodeled into his farrowing barn. There was an aisle down the middle, and on both sides Dad had built five individual pens for each sow. In each individual pen he nailed a 2x4 across the corner and hung a heat lamp in there. That was where the babies went to lay away from momma. Bright, yellow straw covered the old cement floor, and as soon as you stepped in you could smell that clean straw mixed with a pig smell. I loved it!!
At one end of the building was a walk in door. Just inside that door stood an old wood stove, its chimmey running through the ceiling, up through the attic and on out the roof. In the winter he would have that old stove roaring and smoke would pour out the chimney, making that old barn as cozy as our old farm house. At the opposite end was a larger door. Every morning and every night, Dad would bring a sow out of her pen, down that aisle and out that door. There was a pen out there with some low feeding troughs. He would take all ten sows out there. He would put some ground grain in five gallon buckets, cover it with water, and stand there stirring it with a stick until it was all mushy. You should have seen those momma's when he dumped that good stuff in those troughs!! They would take a big mouth full, and as they chomped it down , would run to the other trough, grain and water running all down their face. They definitely were hogs!
After they had cleaned it all up, Dad would start taking each individual sow back to her pen. They were all white....their babies were all white, but sure enough, he knew exactly which pen to put them in.
Quite often that straw had to be removed and clean straw put down. That was one job I was "invited" to help with. When the momma's were happily eating, we would take our pitchforks and carry load after load of that old wet straw out the back door into an old manure spreader setting there hooked to dad's little red tractor. Then in came the new little square straw bale. He would cut the twine with his pocket knife and the bale would fall to peices. We would gather some in our arms and spread it all over that old cement floor.
There was another job dad let me help with and I remember feeling really big and grown up and important when I helped with this job!! Dad gave each liter of baby pigs an iron shot. Dad would fill that little syringe with that dark black iron. I would catch every baby pig, and put them in a box. When he was ready I would hold up a pig by its hind legs and dad would give it a shot in the muscle. We would go from pen to pen until they all had their shot. I would stand there, dreaming of someday becoming a veterinarian!
Just west of the sow pen, dad had a fenced in dirt area for fat hogs. He didn't have "automatic" waterers, but instead he had old water heaters that had been cut in half. They sat every which way there close to the fence. There was a water hose laying outside the fence next to a hydrant. It was my total responsibility to keep them full of water at all times! It usually went well...all except one hot summer afternoon.
Before dad went to the field he told me "Now you be 100% sure that you keep water out for those 50 fats this afternoon. We could loose them if they run out. You may even need to spray them down once or twice. Do you hear me? I'm depending on you!!"
I got busy doing something like kids do and about 3:00 mom asked me "Have you checked the hog water?"
"Oh no...I forgot!" I slipped on my flip flops and tore to the pen.
The troughs were dry!! Every last one of them!! Fat pigs were laying everywhere panting. My stomach became S I C K!! I could hear my dads words "I'm depending on you."
I grabbed the hose, turned on the hydrant and jumped over the gate. I started to fill one trough. Pigs came running from everywhere. They banged into me and pushed me down. Up I jumped and tried to get water in another trough. Here they came...shoving me away!! I tripped and off came my flip flops. I was barefoot. Pigs were squealing everywhere....pushing and shoving trying to get that water. I didn't know what to do!!
"Get out of there!" It was mom.
I made my way to the fence and over it. "Where are your shoes?"
"In there somewhere!"
"Oh honey they could have killed you!"
"I know, but I could have killed them! All of them! What do I do? I can't get enough water in the troughs!" I hollered above the squealing.
"I'd spray them down real good. Make some water puddles."
So I sprayed and sprayed. Soon they were getting cooled off and I could fill the troughs!! I never did find my flip flops. A small price to pay for my forgetfulness!!
Out in that large dirt pen stood 2 or 3 "pig feeders". They each held a ton of feed. They were round and about 5-6 feet tall. Well you see, not only did pigs eat from them, but those sneaky little mice and rats loved it! That is until the day dad would say to us girls, "Well today is the day to clean out the rats." I use to look forward to this until one terrible day in spring.
Dad would back his little red tractor up to a feeder and tie one end of a long chain to the feeder and the other to the tractor. We girls would stand around that feeder with our sticks raised in the air. We had a little black and white rat terrier dog. He loved these days!! He stood there his little stub tail going a mile a minute, eyes glued on that feeder.
Dad would start to pull and out would run rats in every direction!! In would go Jenks for the kill!! Us girls were suppose to start getting them with our sticks. One rat was running for his life! He must have saw a place of refuge in my jeans leg, because he was in and up my leg before I knew what was happening!! To this day, just talking about it sends shivers up my spine!! I'll tell you what, I went berserk!! I really thought my heart would stop right there on the spot!! I danced around there like doing the Indian war dance! Also, right there my jeans came off! The end of that job for me....thank you very much!!
Then there was the field work! I wasn't allowed to help much but when I could it was a learning experience, I'll tell you! For both dad and myself. You see, dad was dealing with a "know it all" teenager. I was dealing with a soft spoken father. I couldn't always "understand" his wording, you might say!
Dad had this little two wheeled grain cart he used at wheat harvest. That little machine was handy but a bear to back up! It just didn't want to go straight! Well...one hot afternoon dad told me to bring it and the tractor to the shed over at grandpa and grandma Dorothy's. I was to drive it in and park it. I THOUGHT he said back it in! After all, he always did!
I pulled it up in front of that big door on the south end of the shed, got it all straight and start to back. Grandma Dorothy came running out to help me. She stood over to the side in the hot sun telling me to turn the front to the left....now to the right. If I remember right that old tractor did not have power steering! I would crank it one way then the other. Then forward and try again. We were getting hotter by the minute!! That door could have been a mile wide and I still couldn't hit it!!
Finally, after....oh I don't know...maybe an hour of that we DID get it in!! Hot wasn't a big enough word to explain ourselves!! You should have seen the concern on mom's face when I walked in the house with a beet red face! Then when I mentioned grandma Dorothy, the concern grew! When dad got home he just merely said "All I asked you to do was open up those doors and drive it straight in!" Like grandma Dorothy would always say "All's well that ends well!"
Have you ever dealt with "teenage dispositions?" Well it isn't always the easiest thing to keep a right spirit when you face that situation, but my dad did pretty well!
He and I were going to bale up a field of alfalfa. I was driving the tractor pulling the little square baler. Hooked behind the baler was a flat trailer. On the trailer was dad. His job was to stack the bales on the trailer as they came out of the baler. The alfalfa field was about a quarter of a mile long. Long beautiful rows of dark green hay lay there. I started down the first row, the sound of the old baler making its clicking sound. I guess I was too engrossed in my own dreams because at the end of the row dad stopped me and said "Would you please look back and check on me once in a while?"
That is when the "teenage attitude" set in. "Why did I have to do such a dumb thing?" So instead of obeying, I put both hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead! On and on I went, the old baler making its clicking noise. I was pretty close to the end of the row when I decided to look back for some reason.
Well, even a teen feels a bit silly when she sees bales piled every which way on the trailer, plus bales laying here and there on the ground, AND her dad calmly WALKING a few miles behind!! He had decided to teach me one of his "silent" lessons. I wasn't looking back so he just quietly jumped off and let me go!! Well....once again...."All's well that ends well!"
One thing I remember dad telling my "husband to be" was "Good luck in teaching her how to farm!!" I could see the smile on his old face and.... didn't I hear a note of sadness? I love you Dad!!
Helen, this was an enjoyable, and sometimes laughable, read! What a farm girl you were! I could just visualize each of these experiences as though I were actually there. You describe your dad very well, like I remember him...he was a good man! You both lived through your growing up years, and as you say, "All's well that ends well!" Thank you.
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