Mar 11, 2011

The next few posts are some stories from my history.

Years: 1961-1971 Chores

When I was in High School I had the responsibility to do chores. Milk and feed the cows. Feed the horses and chickens and whatever other livestock we would have on the farm at the time. Generally Dad would get me up in the morning to milk the cows and then I would do them in the evening after school. When I was younger it was in conjunction with my older brother Lynn but since he was four years older than I then he was off on his mission by the time I was fifteen. Until I was 18 and off to college then chores were my daily routine at home on the farm.

The getting up routine was an interesting one for I was not unlike any most other teenager’s. That bed would be able to have a strong pulling power in the morning and breaking out of it’s grip generally took Dad about three trips to my room. He would start at about 6 AM and come down to my room and would say “It’s time to get up.”  The furnace room was just on the other side of the door from my room so then I would lay there and try to sleep as he would remove the clinkers from the furnace and fill the coal bin with new coal. After that job was complete he would again open the door (if it wasn’t already) and again announce “Come on son, it’s time to get up.” 

Dad would then go out to the barn and get the cows into the barn and once again return and tell me. “Get up, it’s time to get up.” He would then usually succeed and I would crawl out of that very warm bed into the chilling cold of the basement room that serves as my bedroom.  I would then go up and help him carry the buckets of hot water the 50 yards out to that barn.  Part of the water was used to wash the cow’s tits and then the rest later served to wash up the buckets and other milking tools.

The main reason the cows were so easy to get into the barn was due to the grain that we would put into the stanchion.  After they stuck their heads through the bars we would then move one of them into place and lock it there so that the cow couldn’t back out and walk out of the barn while we were trying to milk them.  We would also put hobbles around their back legs to prevent them from kicking us (and the bucket) while in the process of milking them. These hobbles were sometimes more trouble than help.

We had one old cow that wouldn’t let anyone milk her by hand so we would have to hook up the milking machine to her and then milk the other two cows by hand. This was accomplished by removing a one legged stool from off the wall and while balancing on it put the bucket between your legs tilted toward the cow and then spray the milk into the bucket. We could each take one of the two cows and have them milked about the time the automatic milking machine, or what we referred to as the “milker”,  would be finished with the first co

We then would put the milk into another room and let the cows out of the barn. I mentioned that the hobbles were sometimes more trouble than help and it was during this part of the chores where that happened. There were a couple of times (OK several) when I would forget to take off the hobbles before releasing the cow's head. She would then go to step back and if she didn’t fall she would go out of the barn jumping with her back feet each time she moved them. It was of course very hard at that point to stop her and get the hobbles off but if we were lucky they would fall off or she would stop long enough that we could flip one side free so that they would then fall off. I always felt bad when I did this because of the terrible time it would give the cows but even more because of the hard time I would have in getting them off. There were times in my later years that I wouldn’t hobble them because I found out it was easier for me to move when the cow wanted to kick than it was to get her back up off the floor when she would still try to kick and thus slip and fall down while her head was still locked in the stanchion. There were those times of course when she would reach up to relieve a minor objection to my milking and catch the edge of the bucket and then get her foot caught in it and spill it out onto the floor. Of course though the cats and our dog Pee Wee loved that because then they got more than an occasional squirt that they would lick up off the floor under the cow beside my stool.

After the cows were let out of the barn we would then put the milk through a milk strainer to remove all of the hair that would fall in as well as any other foreign objects that might have fallen in as well when the cow would flick her tail or move her leg or let out other objectionable stuff while we were milking. (It is funny as I think back over the years realizing that all that stuff that came from the strainer never once made me stop drinking it or using the cream on my cereal.) 

After the milk was strained we would either pour it into glass gallon bottles that I would get from our neighbors who bought the milk form me or put it through an old crank up milk separator that would separate the cream from the milk. We would save the cream and feed the milk to the pigs.

We would then go to the house carrying the extra milk we kept for our use and the empty buckets. The other milk was left in the barn where our neighbors could pick it up later in the day. I kept the bottles it in cold water or would take them to the house depending on the temperature in the barn and how soon they would be over to get the milk.  The cold water would keep the milk good for almost a full day if needed.

I then would have breakfast if there were time and then get ready for school and ride the bus to school. Dad would usually have left to go to work earlier while I was finishing up the chores.

At night after I got home from school I would change into my old clothes and go out around 5 pm to do the evening chores. The routine was much the same in the evening as in the morning except for the fact that the cows would not be waiting in the barnyard but rather would be somewhere else on the farm. I would either walk down to the bottom of the field and drive them back to the barnyard or take the horse and put a halter on it and ride bare back down to drive them back to the barnyard. The evening always found me having to go out to the stack yard where we kept the hay and spread out a couples bales into the place where the cows could stick their head in and eat the hay. I then would carry some of it over for the horses as well. I only did this at night since Dad would usually have it done in the mornings while I was still battling my mattress.

I do not regret ever the responsibilities I had doing the chores for it taught me how to work and how to stick with a job until it was done regardless of the way I was feeling. There were many times I still had to do the chores when I was sick and didn’t want to do them. One time in particular I will relate later that has stuck with me throughout the years.