A bit about me...

You know, I think when it comes right down to it, we are a product of our growing up years. So, now that I am working hard to get a small piece of property to work the sheep on, or even buy a new place with a little bit of land- all by my self, I see why.

I spent all my childhood on my grandparent's farm during school holidays, and summers. My parents shipped us off to, what I thought was another world. It was a real farm, complete with all the lack of amenities. I couldn't have been happier.
Let's see, we had one channel on the TV (with rabbit ears). I think it was channel 12. We didn't get to watch TV, we had work to do, so that one channel wasn't too bad of a hardship.

A typical day consisted of my grandfather getting up before sun up, and heading out to milk the goats. We had French Alpine goats that he hand milked. I would head down to the barn with him and help feed, or open/close gates. Each goat knew when it was their time to be milked, and it was very orderly. "Pride" was the head Doe in the group and kept everyone in line. There was also a Billy goat, but he was in his own pen- and you didn't want to go in there- my brother got squished once too many times... Anyway, as my grandfather was getting finished, I would run back to the house and help get breakfast ready for him, and feed the dogs. They had Bouviers, and later, Australian Shepherds. So, my grandmother would fry SIX eggs for my grandfather, toast some bread, and of course he had to have his Corn Flakes. He ate them every single day of his life. Oh, and if you're wondering, my grandfather was skinny, and had very low cholesterol.

I remember feeding the Purina Dog Chow to the dogs, and when there were puppies, helping to feed them. After breakfast was cleaned up (and I had my cereal with goat milk- from the goat to the fridge to us- no pasteurization.), we then went outside to either collect chicken eggs (a task I hated because those nasty Rhode Island Red hens would always peck us), or we would help my grandfather with whatever was on the agenda. On a farm there is ALWAYS an agenda...

Sometimes we had to remove the waddles from the kids. Sometimes we had to clean out the barns. The biggest job however was the haying. We had LOTS to bring in- and there was lots to do. The girls ran ahead of the wagon to roll the bales closer to it, for easier pick up. Then when the wagon was full, we had to run down to the house and get Kool Aid for everyone to drink (because as a farmer will tell you, only the HOTTEST days are reserved for haying). Then we would meet them back at the elevator and when they took a break storing it in the loft, we would all drink our Kool Aid, and rest a bit. This went on for days. It was hard work, but talk about team work! That's why farmers traditionally have large families, you know- so you can have free help..

Every Sunday we went to Church with my grandmother. Sometimes after Church we would go visiting their friends. Sometimes my parents came for a visit, and we all got to have frozen Pizza (this was a big treat), and we would miss them when they left.

We spent hours in the quarry, swimming in the water hole, and running from water snakes. We would also go and hang out with the goats; I remember they had these HUGE rocks to run and jump on- my grandparents put them there for them, and MAN did those goats love them!

My grandparents had Goats, Sheep, Angus cattle, Peacocks, Ponies, Geese, Chickens, Dogs, one cat named Kim Jim, a Parrot, and well, I am sure I am forgetting something...

My father spent most of his childhood there and recalled using horses instead of a tractor when working the fields, or taking wood in (oh, by the way, there was no heat, just a wood stove). There was also water from a stream and not a ton of it, so baths were not that often and only with 1" of water...

For some reason, in the summer it wasn't obliteratingly hot in the house- thank goodness for that.


When I was finally "of age" and looking for a first job, I found it creosoting fences on a big sheep farm. $1.00 a board I got. Soon after, I landed a job with a horse vet. I basically took care of the horses by myself, and the place was kept beautifully clean. I helped with medical treatments, foaling, you name it. I remember distinctly, unloading a tractor trailer of shavings by myself one day.

I later had other farm jobs- all with horses. The fun stuff like breaking ice out of frozen buckets, slipping and falling on frozen ground. Cleaning sheaths, treating thrush, putting horses down, whatever needed to be done. It wasn't glamorous, but it was what I did.

I don't work on farms anymore, but I help others out whenever I can. I am good at it, and I guess it is rather my calling, but you know? Maybe I am meant to be more of a hobbyist. See, farmers don't have retirement plans, most don't have health insurance, and they are always on the edge of just making it. Most would not trade the life they have, and I think if I were a farmer, I would do whatever it would take to maintain that lifestyle, but I am not, so I have to be realistic.

So, that's a bit about me. I have DONE what others are doing now. There is one person I read about who extols the virtues of having a working farm. Big deal. Been there, and done that. The real farmers; the ones who walk the walk, and don't talk the talk, don't feel the need to brag. There is nothing to brag about- it's hard work, and a good feeling of accomplishment- that's it. My grandparents never bragged about their farm, neither did my father. None of the people I worked for ever bragged about their "working farm"- they simply did not have the time, nor the inclination.

I have been there and done that, I know the work it takes to run a farm, and I certainly know it isn't romantic, and some how illustrious, it's simply a way of life. Bragging about it is rather like bragging that you work 9-5, and eat dinner at 6.