william
Loves to Make Friends
Posts: 146
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Post by william on Jul 25, 2009 7:55:24 GMT -5
My farm family starts the day off with pancakes for breakfast. Granddad gets up from his bed before daylight and builds a fire in the kitchen cookstove. It usually takes an hour to get it going before he can safely leave it.
In the parlor sits an old time pump organ. Granddad sits down at the keyboard to play some old time music. Just about every saturday night in the winter time, the neighbors get together and have a dance. More about that later.
By now the stove is hot and Granddad has a cup of hot coffee or tea. Grandmother is stirring around now and getting the youngsters out of their beds.
But before breakfast, Granddad heads to the barn to milk his cows. It is about another hour before he comes back. Grandmother has the kids dressed and at the table. Granddad washes up and sits down. Right in the middle of that table is a large plate of pancakes. Next to them is maple syrup and a jar of honey. Still cooking on the stove is a pan full of eggs and bacon or sausage, sometimes ham.
A huge pitcher of milk also finds itself on the table. Also on the table is a large jar with a collection of forks and spoons. Granddad starts the pancakes around the table. Each youngster grabs a fork and teases one of those pancakes to his own plate. Grandmother brings the eggs and bacon and places an egg or two beside the pancake. Or sometimes right on that pancake. Kids usually want syrup on their pancake.
Each glass is filled with milk. Grandmother sits down and helps the smallest youngster with his breakfast. The food disappears rapidly. There are very few scraps left for the cat.
Grandmother mixes a little flour, baking powder and just a little milk in the pancake batter that was left over. She puts this aside in a warm place. Tomorrow she will add more milk and baking soda if necessary. Then she dips many quarts of hot water from the cookstove reservoir and washes up the dishes.
The youngsters bring in firewood for the stove and take the ashes outside to a safe place.
Granddad has another cup of coffee or tea and soon heads for the barn again.
Bummy74
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Post by barb12 on Jul 25, 2009 9:43:21 GMT -5
I don't think any one was amazed at the cow jumping over the fence, what really cracked them up was her coming and drinking the bird bath dry.
We've had many cows jump the fence and take off. One liked to travel to the neighbors through the woods and visit their bull. The son of the neighbor happened to be a bull rider.
Up the road a few miles another farm had a cow that would escape and travel down Rt. 414 and come to MIL's farm. She would stand outside of fence and wait to be let in. After going back and forth several times, the farm purchased her before she became road kill.
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Post by Amber Rigby Grosjean on Jul 25, 2009 11:35:42 GMT -5
Yeah, I wouldn't have liked seeing her become road kill either. I like cows. I never saw any of them jump so I think that would be a sight for me lol. Growing up, our neighbors were amish and they had cows. Their fence was high enough that they never lost any of them. Of course, there was a lot of space for them too so I don't think they minded the fence. Never seen one close to it. Of course it was by the road and it was a busy dirt and stone road so the stones may have kept them at bay.
Amber
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william
Loves to Make Friends
Posts: 146
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Post by william on Sept 13, 2009 10:20:06 GMT -5
My great Grandfather was a very early settler in this area. It was about 265 years ago,. as I understand, his own Grandfather was the very first settler in this part of the valley. The white man was not welcomed in this valley by the indians because of the great abundance of game to be found here. A few miles down river one family was chased out of the valley by the indians only a couples years earlier.
Ayres Tuttle came to the valley and settled with the intention of establishing an Inn for folks who were moving westward. His Inn is still standing today. In Fact my father was born at his great great great Grandfather Ayre's Inn about 1905.
Ayres,s son Sheldon, Grandson Cyrus, Great Grandaughter Lillian, Great Great grandson Lisle and finally me, William are the lineage of this first settler. It's a little difficult to keep it all straight.
Cyrus bought the property that I live on today. Lillian is my Grandmother and she had a brother Charles.
Charles and his sister Lillian married another sister and brother.
( A little hard to follow I know!)
When Cyrus died his property was devided up between Lillian and Charles.
Cyrus cleared much of the farm. You can still see where some of the old tree stumps were. But there were a couple of specie of tree that Cyrus would not cut down no matter what. These were nut trees. His reasoning was, nut trees would attract squirrels and other animals. In the winter there were always a few squirrels around these nut trees. If the winter was very harsh and food became scarce. Cyrus could usually kill a few squirrels for his own survival.
But that is how things were a couple hundred years ago!
Bummy
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Post by Amber Rigby Grosjean on Sept 18, 2009 11:38:21 GMT -5
Yeah, its amazing how simple life was back then. Sometimes I wish I could live like that, have a nice cabin and live off the land. Of course, I'd still have to have my electricity for my writing and such lol. But other than that, I think it would be fun.
Amber
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william
Loves to Make Friends
Posts: 146
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Post by william on Sept 18, 2009 21:17:07 GMT -5
Well Amber I am no longer very active on the farm. I do take care of our chickens and ducks. We have a steer that we bought as a calf more or less to acquaint our little grandson "Will" to the farm life. He is only 3 years old but he has taken the responsibility to let the chickens and ducks out of their pen and feed them every morning that he is with us. He also has a rabbit here.
We babysit him several times a week. He even helps with the firewood. Little Will has been to our neighbors farm and watched them bale and haul hay, milk cows, watch them feed the 100 calves that are fed every day.
He wants to sell his steer and use the money to buy two more calves. The problem is that Granddad, (me), and Grandma are simply not up to overseeing this project he has in mind, (selling one and buying two more animals!) I give him a whole lot of credit of planning this idea all on his own!
Little Will kind of scares me just how quickly his mind is developing and the interest he is taking with our lifestyle!
Bill
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william
Loves to Make Friends
Posts: 146
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Post by william on Oct 27, 2009 18:48:23 GMT -5
October 27, 2009
Cutting firewood
The leaves are just about gone from the trees on the farm woodlot now. I wished that I could get to the woods just to walk thru. Well maybe I can drive my lawn tractor up the hill and spend a little time driving around the old logging roads.
I really miss cutting firewood during the fall. I used to start late september before the leaves started falling off. Then work nearly every day until snowfall forces me to quit. Of the 60 years that I have been cutting firewood, I never had anyone to really help me in the woods all woodcutting season. Most of the time I worked all alone except maybe for my dog. If you are very careful it does not have to be a dangerous job. Mostly I cut smaller trees that were dead or already down. A few trees were huge maples nearly 25 inches in diameter. These trees were looked very carefully to see which way they were leaning. Also I checked the direction the wind was blowing too. Sometimes there were more limbs on one side then the other and I had to determine if the weight of the limbs would balance the leaning of the tree. I was fooled a very few times but not often. If there were strong doubt in which way that tree was going to fall, I would insert wooden wedges and drive them in the cut just behind the saw and force or at least mildly persuade them in the desired direction. A few times the tree would pinch my saw in the cut. Then I would have to use an axe to chip away at the tree until I could free my saw..
Several years ago timber was taken from my woodlot. Tops were left. I cut as many of these tops as I could. It really bugs me to see these tops just rot away. But I have no choice anymore. I do not have the strength to cut them into firewood anymore.
I have noticed new growth filling the open areas where the sunlight can filter thru the formerly shaded areas under those tree that were removed. I have a strong sense of affection for these old trees. They were here when my great grandfather first settled the property. I really cannot explain how I feel. Maybe it is because much of the stuff my body is made of actually came from the soil under my feet! Probably that sounds kind of strange to whoever reads this but I really dont care!
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william
Loves to Make Friends
Posts: 146
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Post by william on May 7, 2010 7:56:28 GMT -5
One evening while I went after my cows for milking I noticed a fox skulking his way toward the house. The cow was ahead of me on a cowpath . It was very steep where we were walking, at least a 45 degree slope. There was not much vegetation there or brush either. Not much for that fox to hide behind.
Seemed to me that he certainly was not very alert. That cow saw him but only continued on her way to the barn. She was about to cross his path so he certainly could not have missed seeing her. I was maybe a hundred feet behind the cow and walking steadily along. The fox was about as far away from that cow as I was, but he apparently did not see me.
I stopped to watch him for a few minutes. He slowly made his way down that steep hill. Obviously he had some kind of project in mind. Our chickens were running around the yard. I suspect that one of those chickens was the object of his intense focus.
He got to the cow path that we were on and was about to cross it. "Hey fox, what are you up to?" I yelled to him. He stopped, looked to see who was talking.
I stood perfectly still. It took him a minute to spot me and another minute to decide what he better do. Guess he decided the chickens were mine and I might not like him taking one for himself. He turned and trotted back up the hill and out of sight.
Bill L. aka Bummy
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william
Loves to Make Friends
Posts: 146
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Post by william on May 30, 2010 18:36:37 GMT -5
One cold winter evening My ex wife and myself were checking on our many rabbits. Bozo, our dog had come along with us. It was quite dark and the air was very still. I could hear a fox barking off in the distance. Bozo heard him too. And he began to bark himself. I listened and it soon became apparent that the fox was coming closer. Bozo took after him. The fox was yipping but moving along. He was able to out run Bozo and Bozo knew it. Bozo came back and that dang fox came back. He was playing tag with Bozo. They went back and forth like that about a dozen times.
Another time Bozo cornered a fox in our barn. I could not tell what was in there. But of course Bozo knew and a fight ensued. That fox lost the battle. He was not in very good shape, maybe an old timer who was unable to run away from Bozo. He probably smelled the rabbits and hoped that he could grab one for his supper.
Woodchucks were very abundant here on the farm too. One big old chuck took up his living quarters in our barn. Bozo and I came around the barn one day and surprized that woodchuck. Bozo lit into him as he did with all woodchucks. What a scrap it was! It lasted nearly 20 minutes.
Bozo gave a sharp yip. I knew he was hurt. He came out of the barn where they had been fighting. His mouth was all bloody. That woodchuck had managed to grab Bozo by his tongue. There was a knife sliced cut on Bozo's tongue. Bozo was still ready to continue the fight. But the chuck had disappeared down his hole to safety. A few days later we surprised that same woodchuck. This time it was a different story. After about 5 minutes Bozo came out carrying his prize. His tail was wagging 90 miles an hour as he presented that huge woodchuck to me.
I never like to see two creatures fight to the death like that but woodchucks are destructive to gardens and hayfields. Bozo learned to hunt young chucks. He would leave about 4:00 pm to make the rounds of various woodchuck holes. He'd always returned with a chuck. After a short rest he would skin that animal quicker then I can tell about it. And have himself a tasty meal.
Bozo earned his keep. I admit to shedding many tears for days or even weeks after he was run over by my son in law, Loretta's husband.
Bill L. aka Bummy
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