The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
February 18, 2018 column
I’m Irish and I love stories. I love to hear stories. I love to share stories.
I guess that is why I enjoy sharing my thoughts with you. Here are a couple of stories to love, laugh at, nod your head in agreement and even sigh out loud at.
A couple of weeks ago, Mark stopped in the barn to ask me a quick question. We were struggling to get through the morning chore routine after another night of sub-zero temperatures.
I was babying the silo unloaders as they chiseled away at frozen silage. Mark was pounding on barn cleaner flights so they could make it around the reverse curve without breaking.
We were both getting tired of the same old routine and he thought we needed a diversion. He asked me, “Should we go out for a Valentine’s Day dinner?” Now most wives would jump for joy at the thought that their husband came up with this novel idea all on their own.
I kept bedding cows and not missing a beat asked, “Which co-op is serving a dinner?” Our area Select Sires meeting was that day. I didn’t go to the meeting and when Mark got there, they were at the bottom of the pans for food. Karma.
The real reason I didn’t want to go out for dinner was because I didn’t want to be inadvertently exposed to the flu bug that was going around.
When there is a flu epidemic, being “stuck” on the farm with chores and problems can look like a pretty good option. I really needed to stay healthy so I could have a surgery.
Now, the reason behind the operation is a story in itself.
I don’t remember how the kids got all the cattle down to a state show that summer, but somehow they couldn’t get them all home in one load. They had made all the trucking arrangements and I was their backup plan if things didn’t work. I think I was really their original and only plan of how to get all the cattle back home. They could get the heifers up to Howard Lake but I would need to bring them the rest of the way home. No problem.
I hooked the trailer up to the truck and took off to get the show heifers. After about a 45 minute drive on curvy back roads around several lakes, I finally made it to Groos’ farm. No one was home; there was a Breakfast on the Farm they were helping with that day.
I had instructions as to where I would find the heifers in the side pen of the parlor. Sure enough, that is where I found them, only they didn’t have their halters on. I was going to have to catch them.
Now one of the heifers was Jonathon’s yearling by the name of Ralma Gold Crush because she was such a monster and if she stepped on your foot, it was going to hurt.
Do you see where the story is going? The Goldwyn bloodline in her also made her a little on the nervous side and she was not about to be haltered up again. We “danced” around the pen for a couple of turns before I finally got close enough to snag her ears and loop her nose in the halter.
Then it happened. She lived up to her name. She put all her weight on the top of my foot as she tried to spin away from me.
I dropped to my knees and rolled my eyes as I tried to take in enough air through my nose to keep me from yelling. I wasn’t thinking when I left home that I would need to put on my work boots because I was just picking up show heifers. I had slipped into a pair of tennis shoes.
I struggled to stand on my foot but knew I had to because there wasn’t anyone else around to help. I had to “walk it off”. As my Dad would say, “It’s a long ways from your heart.”
I hobbled with Crush to the trailer and was able to load up the smaller calves with no problems. Now I just had that winding drive home. Did I mention it was my right foot that Crush crushed?
My foot throbbed with pain as I tried to accelerate and brake. I couldn’t put the truck on cruise control because of the curvy roads. Needless to say, it was a very long drive home. Now, since there was no blood, no foul. I didn’t go to the doctor and eventually my foot began to feel better for a while.
Fast forward ten years.
What is the best time for a farmer to be down and out of commission? Most would say never, but sometimes we don’t have a choice. At least I could choose when I wanted to be laid up for a couple of months.
I picked February and March to be stuck in the house. Most of the sub-zero temps are over and the daily routine should be steady with fewer breakdowns. I can’t be in the garden yet and we won’t be in the fields for awhile. This is as good of a time as any, I guess.
For the next two months I have to keep my weight off of my foot. When Crush stepped on it, she really did crush the bones in the top of my foot and now they need time to fuse together.
Since I was already under the knife and the doctor was in the area, he also fixed my bunion. It was a two for one deal!
It is kind of like a remodeling project. Since you’re already fixing up the kitchen, you might as well do the bathroom too. If you’re going to make a mess, make one, big mess.
I won’t be able to tell you what is going on out in the barn, but I don’t think being laid up will keep me from finding new stories to share with you..
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As their four children pursue dairy careers off the family farm, Natalie and Mark are starting a new adventure of milking registered Holsteins just because they like good cows on their farm north of Rice, Minnesota.
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