Hey, all you modern day farm guys and gals! What’s the strangest or scariest thing that’s ever happened to you on the farm, or that was farm related?
My dh tells of the time a steer got out of the ring at the stockyard on Labor Day weekend (meaning the place was PACKED) and shot straight up the stairs and out the open door!
And there’s the time (read NIGHT!) I got caught in a stampeding herd of Holstein cows. With nowhere to go, all I could do was face them, jump up and down and scream my head off. The cows parted like the red sea, and unhurt, I fell down on the ground and just sobbed.
I could tell you more, but I’ll hold off for now. Instead, I want to hear your stories!
Hi Pam, It was great meeting you in Dallas (and playing YOU in the skit-LOL). Another farm girl–I should have guessed. I didn’t grow up on a farm, just around animals. Tons of stories there, but one of the most memorable was when my dad had me ride one of the horses he had just started breaking around the corral. I wasn’t crazy about horses, especially wild ones, but he wanted me to try it. I made it around once, then the horse picked up speed. I panicked and got slammed into the splintery board sides of the corral. Of course I fell off the horse. Nothing serious, just a limp and hurt feelings. The only thing was that night I was going to be baptized at church and could barely hobble down the steps of the baptistry. I’m not sure my mother ever forgave Daddy for that. I never became much of a horse person, either.
Pam,
Your adorable calf is almost as cute as my 14 week old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel!
I spent my teen years on a small dairy farm nestled in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains in western Oregon, so I have some moo-ving stories of my own. Some of the best ones can’t be told–at least not yet.
There’s nothing like being a boy-shy fifteen-year-old, dressed in school clothes and knee-high black rubber boots, chasing wildly after escaped bovines when the school bus rolls by.
I sold my starter herd of eight registered Holsteins to marry my city slicker life mate, but not until he helped me wash and groom them for showing at my last county fair! So sorry Maybelle, Molly Moo, and Black Beauty. I traded in my knee-high rubber boots for the mantle of pastor’s wife. Some days I wish I still had the boots. Working in the church may look like tiptoeing through a field of daisies, but sometimes there are surprises hidden underneath all those blossoms and greenery.
I think there must be a corner of heaven that smells like fresh straw and baby calf breath.
Bev Porter
Did you take that picture, Pam? It’s beautiful.
Well, not too much scary for me. We had a killer bull when I was growing up on a dairy farm but he never got too close to killing me.
But one time my husband got charged by a bull bent on murder. He was in just the right place by a fence that the cows stuck their heads through to eat out of a feed bunk and the bull hit him and rammed him through the fence.
He had the fleeting thought before he realized he was going to make it through the fence that our cattle dog was close by and might save him.
Once husband was safe he looked around to see the dog running for his life over a far hill headed home.
Lassie he was NOT.