my country childhood memories longgreenspun.com : LUSENET : Countryside : One Thread
I grew up on a large dairy farm when I say large I mean my dad did'nt have to work away from home and our child hood was comfortable not a large farm by todays standards. This was in the 1950's and 1960's. Dad went to the milk house down and across the road every morning and every night as he walked to the barn he would hollar come boss come boss and the cows would start up the lane to be milked. ( did you know that cows have an order that they are milked in without dads help the cows came in in the same order every morning and every night the first one was always first the second was always second and so on. For years when I was a kid the first's name was Betty and the last one was always last I dont remember her name). Every morning and every night mom would go to the barn to feed the new calves in the nursery barn, mom was better with the babies (dad always gave them the scoures from mixing the calf starter to rich ) Dad would do the chores, check the maternity barn, and milk the cows. We had seprate barns for specific things and they were always kept clean. Calf pens were always disenfected before a new calf was put in the pen. You have to be very careful when the animals support your family of seven children. My sister and I spent many hours in the loft above the barn fishing for cows we would tie hay to bailing twine drop it down and try to get the cows to take the bait then we would let them eat it. Or we would watch as dad milked the cows if no one was around he would talk to them, there was sometimes a cow that would need a shot dad would write on their side with an oil based crayon so he would know that the cow was medicated and he would hook them up to a portable milker so their milk couldnt get in with the other milk this milk would be dumped. While the cow was being milked it would get what ever special medication it needed. We also loved to watch the milk flow from the cow into the glass tubes, through the wall and into the other room where the large stainless steel milk tank shared residence with our many wild unapproachable barncats. The tank held several hundred gallons of milk and kept it refrigerated there was a large dasher in the bottom of the tank and every so often it would come on and stir the milk to keep the milk cool and to keep it from seperating. On the corner of the tank and in the corner of the large lid was a small round lid we would stand on our tip toes and lift the lid and look down into the large tank to see the milk stir around slowly mixing, sometimes the tank was nearly empty and sometimes it was full to the top. The barn cats would wander in during milking time paitently waiting until dad cleaned up and then he would give them a big pan of milk. Above the milking parlor were the grain bins they were dark and musty the barn cats job was to keep the mice under control they must have done a good job because I can never remember seeing any mice. Every couple of weeks a large grain truck would come and fill the grain bins in the top of the barn with its long trunk like auger. There were cranks in the milking parlor and dad would pull the crank and just the right amount on grain would come out for the contented cow to eat while he was being milked. One of our cows Bimbo could take his toung and reach out through the stanchion and grab the crank and give hinself an extra portion. It was always so plesant in the milk house with the hum of the compressor the cows the cats the clean smell of bleach and Dad quietly talking to his cows.
These are just some of the memories of my happy childhood I only wish that our children could have the same experiences. Just felt like sharing
-- ronda (firstname.lastname@example.org), November 17, 2000
Great memory story. I guess we all have those good memories. On the subject of your closing line, we can't go back in time with our children, but we can make new memories with them to share as you just shared this one. Thanks for sharing and opening my eyes to the happy memories we are making now.
-- Jay Blair in N. AL (email@example.com), November 17, 2000.