Country Living
Country Living, Country Skills
Country People

KountryLife.com - A Country Living Resource and Community
Community
Message Board
Country Topics
Trading Post
Memory Lane
Country Skills
Country Cooking

Channels
Gardening
Livestock
The Kitchen
Machinery
Tools

Photographs
Photo Gallery
Vintage Photos
Special Collections

Fun
Country Humor
Country Sounds
Coloring Book
Interactive Story

Farm Tractors
Pictures
Tractor Parts
Tractor Manuals

Miscellaneous
Classic Trucks
Antique Tractors
Modern Tractors
Site Map
Links Page
Contact Us

  
Country Discussion Topics
To add your comments to this topic, click on one of the 'Reply' links below.

When you were growing up on the farm
[Return to Topics]

buck    Posted 07-01-2003 at 19:37:52       [Reply]  [No Email]

were there critters that you didn't really like or that gave you a lot of problems as a kid. We had this guinne hen that loved to flog us kids but I learned that if I hit it sharply in the head with a stick it would spin around like a top for a few minutes. Was kinda fun but it never learned to stop trying to flog us. Then there was this buck sheep that had to have a go at anyone that had their backsides to it. I would jump in the field and see how far I could outrun it untill one winter day the race was from the outhouse to the front porch but it cought me and let me miss the 3 steps-always had a lot of respect for it after that.There was this mule that liked to kick everything it got close to that I just plain stayed away from. The goat that liked to put its horns between peoples legs and jerk backwards--that really hurt. That goose(gander really, it laid eggs) was the worst of the lot-always had to keep a sharp eye out for it-kept a kids arms and legs in whelps all he time and the more you kicked and punished it the more it liked it. Guess these are some of the things that farm kids remember when they get old.


Clod    Posted 07-03-2003 at 10:54:38       [Reply]  [No Email]

>>->


RayP(MI)    Posted 07-02-2003 at 18:53:16       [Reply]  [No Email]
Had several roosters attack me when I was a kid - Dad taught me to carry a small shovel, and whack 'em broadside. Usually quit their attacks when they found I could fight back. Usually wasn't long before they were the guest of honor at Sunday dinner. Had a steer attack me in the pasture one time when I was about ten. Dad followed me back to the pasture, and he attacked again. Dad beat on that animal until he just laid there and moaned.... He went to the butcher soon after. Future father-in-law was attacked by his bull, shortly before we got married. He was rolled around in the barnyard and broke a couple ribs. I went down and ran his dairy farm while he was in the hospital. Future mother-in-law and I sent the bull on before he got out. (IS there a pattern here?)


Juvinile taught Bull    Posted 07-02-2003 at 16:53:25       [Reply]  [No Email]
Me and my brother used to tease a particular bull with a little 8N tractor. any new dent or scratch in this tractor was easily unnoticed. T%his went on most all of the winter as it was are chore to carry hay out to the cows with the 8N. Finally the bull just got used to charging at us every time we came around. Well by the next spring, dad drove his two year old pickup in the same field, well he came back with dented finders claiming the bull had went crazy. He butchered it that week.


Fawteen    Posted 07-02-2003 at 13:58:22       [Reply]  [No Email]
Cows. No one particular cow, just cows. Big. Dumb. Dangerous combination. One or another of them rotten sonsabucks was ALWAYS trying to step on me, crowd me into the side of the barn, swat me with a crappy tail, put the horns to me or kick me.

I'll die a happy man if I never get within hollerin' distance of a cow again.


Takes me back to my...    Posted 07-02-2003 at 18:37:05       [Reply]  [No Email]
..early childhood days.

Fawteen

I grew up in the city,
had my life organized in a suburb with everything close by.
For my mom and dad it was completly diferent, they were born in the coutrysite, way up in the mountains.

Every two weeks we would all get in the car and drive to where they had the best times of their younger years.
Although no matter what they told me, I couldn't believe their stories about their way of life back then...they had to walk long hours to get their water..

Anyway..we would get in the car and park it at the end of the dirt road.
Walk for a long time along the mountain skirts...then up the hill to the top, and down again..
Cross the river...wow , I had so much fun, my cousins would meet us at one point to help with the bags and stuff..

Along the way also bulls, cows, goats, chickens, horses and the rest of the critters would welcome us to their sunny paradise..

Home finally...:-)
A small wood shack with only two 'bedrooms' would be our shelter for the weekend. Matresses would be thrown on the floor; wow, I can still feel the humid 'fragrance'..

In the morning we had to 'wait' for the coffee 'cream'..

hm..I'll stop now, you know how the rest of the day went by..

But you know what? 40 years later I moved back to where my mom and dad lived. Now is paved roads, computers ,satelite tv and a college degree folk in every concrete home.

Patria



LH    Posted 07-01-2003 at 23:42:44       [Reply]  [No Email]
My Uncle Leo had a holstein bull that treed me evertime I was in his pasture. That son of a buck would even butt the tree tryin to knock ya out if he could. he wound up as hamburger in the end


WallSal55 - LH ?    Posted 07-02-2003 at 06:34:58       [Reply]  [No Email]
What were you doing in with the bull? My folks
always told us that COULD happen and worse.


LH    Posted 07-02-2003 at 12:49:24       [Reply]  [No Email]
the shortcut to the orchard was through the pasture


Jimbob    Posted 07-01-2003 at 20:45:42       [Reply]  [No Email]
City rats & hot, dusty concrete for me- no farm.


WallSal55    Posted 07-01-2003 at 20:02:08       [Reply]  [No Email]
We had a huge rooster chase me and try peckin'
at me when I was 4 or under. It was my brothers
and I ran into the house one day and told my
mom the Rooster had to go. One day we went for
a quiet ride to town w/rooster. He was dinner
I believe one night. I was quite pleased at the
time being a terrified girl. (Now as an adult
I wonder if there was any othe solution for the
Rooster). All I remember is that he seemed bigger
than me!
Then my dad would always bring home 2 pets,
one for brother, one for me. My brother would
always get to his first and pick the smart one.
I would get the dumb one. It was this way with
the 2 goats, the 2 puppies, etc.
He could always get his pets to do tricks,
etc. Mine wouldn't do anything for me.


DeadCarp    Posted 07-01-2003 at 20:30:56       [Reply]  [No Email]
We had a tough rooster too - neither my sister nor i was that big and had to gather eggs from all the nests, and soon as we entered the henhouse that thing would peck and scratch us. If we kicked him against the wall, he'd get mad and chase us worse. One day we had had enough i guess, managed to catch the thing and "hypnotize" it with its head under its wing, and then poked a rooster-head sized hole in one of dad's hankies and tied the corners to an old metal doll buggy & carried the whole mess across the road to the newly-tilled field and sat it down. In a few seconds the rooster woke up, looked around, stood up, took a coupla steps and the buggy squeaked - well, from then on he ran faster at every squeak - that was so darn funny a sight - AND from then on, he'd go grumble in a corner if we had a hanky along!


funny stuff    Posted 07-02-2003 at 08:21:06       [Reply]  [No Email]
I like that one. It goes in the 'to send to my friend' file. Mike D.


DeadCarp    Posted 07-01-2003 at 21:48:43       [Reply]  [No Email]

You know the old saying "Never slap a woman who's chewing tobacco"? Well, every time i hear it i think of this sweetheart - heh heh - you talk about tough critters!


Cindi    Posted 07-02-2003 at 03:17:06       [Reply]  [No Email]
I too grew up in the town, but my grandmother used to have a goat named Rastus. I have no idea what his purpose was unless it was just to inspire terror in kids. He had these bug eyes, used to call them devil eyes, and liked nothing better than to trample the first kid out the door. There was four of us and we learned quickly to all leave the house at the same time and take off in different directions at a dead run.


[Return to Topics]



[Home] [Search]

Copyright © 1999-2013 KountryLife.com
All Rights Reserved
A Country Living Resource and Community