Oh the Life of a Farm Girl

I've been helping out with the cattle chores of late. Apart from the fact I'm strongly tempted to feed the bovine in my pajamas I don't mind it all. Perhaps I don't look like a farm girl as another farm boy once pointed out to me many years ago, but I do my best to fill the part when necessary. With three brothers I lived the life of leisure of cooking enormous meals and washing filthy clothes. As they left it was time for me to fill their shoes. Pun attended, I never got my own coveralls and rubber boots. My brothers old one's worked fine.

I liked it best when I got to sort hogs. This may sound anomalous but I rather enjoyed sorting the fat piggy’s on their way to market. Granted I did enjoy cleaning up afterwards as well. Just a small side note, If you happen to get pig manure (i.e. poop) on your bedroom carpet do not judge the severity of the stain by smelling the pile at close range. Just ask my mom, she nearly fainted after doing so.

Another piece of advice as well if you are short in physique beware that the pigs may want to escape using any possible route including the opening between your legs. Let me put it this way when a pig runs under a short person there is simply not enough room for both. Therefore you might find yourself in the position of taking up hog riding for a living. I am still not sure how much money we lost by not getting this endeavor on video.

Though I'm not sure I always made a very good farm girl I loved being on the farm. The combine has been sold for many years now but I can still remember how much fun harvest was. Chewing on the fresh wheat kernels before enjoying an afternoon lunch. Getting those delightful suckers from the Co-op. Riding in the cab of the combine and even more fun standing on the running board. Admittedly I must say I never had the experience of having to haul the grain in the truck. Sisters and in-laws have a few stories about such experience. Trucks do have a funny way of stalling on the grain scales. But I've said too much.

Even were there the times when I had my own livestock to chore. I spent a whole winter tending to my two little piggies. Faithfully giving them water even when I had to break the ice on bitter winter days. Spending hours stuck in the feed bin because those things are terribly hard to get out of. All for $60, I thought that was appalling little compensation for all the trouble I had gone to. I decided never to repeat that entrepreneur ever again.

I fared better with the bottle calves. I didn't mind so much making the bottles and delivering morning and night. I found their noses to be quite slimy and nasty when rubbed all over me. When the milk spilled it did make me cry and have less than nice thoughts for the dear calf. I relished the fact of position as a milk maid and secretly longed for a cow to milk.

I must say that this sounds like I had an awful time on the farm. This is true. However character lessons were learned that you just can't find anywhere else. They say the farm never leaves a person. And I think it’s true. Every time I eat beef or pork I feel very smug to know its sitting on my plate and not out in the pen waiting to be fed.