I had another close call, with another large farm animal. We were fixing fence, south of the barn. I gingerly walked under a horse’s belly and tried to milk her. She was not like a cow. She had two teats, which were long and flat. I squeezed one of them and saw a giant hoof move by my body. I was so far under her belly she totally missed me. In retrospect, I know the meaning of a guardian angel.
One summer morning I headed for the outhouse to go to the toilet. Between consuming a lot of water and eating fresh vegetables, I was ready to do a Number 2. When I opened the door of the out house, I was confronted by a horned toad. His glistening eyes and rough skin diminished all thoughts of entering his domain. I had never seen such a creature. I did the number 2 in my pants, either out of fear or waiting too long. I was old enough to be ashamed, for having done this, so I hid out all day. When I went to the supper table, my secret was out. After a razzing, by my siblings, mother cleaned me up and things returned to normal.
Gaining strength and size, I thought about climbing the Box Elder on the south side of the yard. I struggled to reach a low branch. When I finally climbed up, to eye level, there was a snakeskin under my hand. This diminished my thoughts of security and comfort, of my safe haven. I never thought a snake could make it up that high. Snakes and toads seemed foreign to me. They were essential in balancing nature, so we left them alone.
The house was not immune, from the outside pests. A snake was found in the flour bin, in the pantry. Mice and rats were also common on the farm. Queenie, our favorite hound, was an excellent rat killer. Queenie was promptly summoned, and pursued the rat or mouse, killing them with ease. Precious few survived her prowess.
Queenie, as revered as she was, seemed to have a litter of pups, quite often. Dad would always give the pups to the Indians. They were purported to eat them. I saw a movie once, about the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. The lady, who was the star in this movie, and supposedly as expert on Indian culture, told her partner “he was lucky, they shot his dog, instead of eating it”. It had been wounded and was going to survive. One of our milk cows foundered and bloated, from eating Sudan grass. Dad took a sharp knife, puncturing her side, attempting to relieve the bloating. The procedure failed, so he let the Indians, from the 12-mile point, have the cow. They appeared soon after, driving a team and wagon, and butchered her on the spot. With the skin, surrounding the butchered carcass, they cut the udder saving the milk in a bucket, they had brought with them. I still remember the gush of milk as the sharp knife, severed the udder. They finished quartering the animal, loading it and returned to the 12-mile point. They left the hide, since Joe McMahan would take it to Packing Town and sell it.
Joe McMahan was a self styled cowboy and veterinarian. He and dad would castrate the male animals (hogs and calves) on the farm. Jimmy and I were perched on the brooder house watching the procedure. It was painful, since the pigs were squealing and in pain. After the cutting was done, they were treated with a dip mixture. This made it worse on the pigs, who squealed even louder. Joe, peering up, under his ten-gallon hat, would say “Lawrence, I think the boys should be next”. Needless to say, we never left our lofty perch until we heard Joe start his International Harvester truck, and leave a trail of dust, as he headed home.
The other cowboy, veterinarian was a Mr. Steele. He was really bad looking. He wore a black ten gallon hat and had a distorted face, as the result of a stroke. He arrived, pulling a steel chute, which he used to contain animals. Saliva was drooling from his mouth. We had a large black bull, with large horns. Mr. Steele and dad roped the bull and placed him in the steel chute. Once secured, they proceeded to dehorn the bull. Putting the 1000 lb bull in the chute was very exciting. After he was dehorned, smeared with the dip, he was mad and ready to get out of the chute. Frothing at the mouth, he exited hurriedly, and ran off to the pasture. He stayed away for about two days, returning to the barn yard, for a drink in the cement tank. When he settled down, he was more peaceful, without his horns.
I am amazed now, as I think how graphic these experiences were to me. Jimmy and I were always in the vicinity of some bizarre event. One time we were in the barn and crawled into the manger, on the cow side. The center section of the barn didn’t have any hay in it. A cow, about to have a calf, had been placed there. She was lying down, minding her own business. When she saw us, she became startled, and jumped up. When she stood up she dropped the new calf, from the standing position. We presumed the calf must have died from the fall. To our surprise, it moved, and stood up very much alive. We never told what we had done. We reported the birth of a new calf.
One time a milk cow didn’t come in from the pasture. A search found her inside a hay stack. She had eaten her way into the haystack, became frightened, and would not back out. We had to fashion a sling over her hips and drag her out, using a horse.
About the time all these events were happening, we had approximately 50 head of cattle. We farmed on the west side of the road. We also had a pasture on the east side of the road. After the milking, the cows were placed in the east pasture. A cow lane, fenced off from the tilled land, led to this pasture. This lane was a quarter mile long. At the east end was a grove of cedar trees and a windmill. This place had no dwelling or barn buildings. There was a boysenberry bush in this pasture. If the frost didn’t kill the tender blooms, we picked them for jelly. Sand plums were also abundant and we used them for jelly also. This pasture was covered with native cedar trees and scrub oak. We had to go to the east pasture, to get the cows for the evening milking. When they were in the cow lot, a Jersey cow would be missing. She always headed for the orchard, behind the brooder house. As a result, she had the name Sneaky.
After the milking was done, the cows were held in the cow lot by the barn, or put in the Sudan patch, to graze overnight. After the morning milking, they were returned to the East pasture, where they were allowed to graze all day. The windmill pumped the cement tank full of fresh water, for them to drink. We put fresh catfish in the tank, when we had more than we could use. We caught them in the North Canadian River or the Cutoff at the 12 mile point. There was a slough, on the Bloom place, which trapped fish, when the river went down. We would seine fish there, and share them with the Tinsley family. We would have a tub full of fish, when we went seining.
