The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. These words resonated throughout my whole body as I realized how closely I had adverted a disaster without even knowing there was a problem. Thank goodness there are still honest people in the world who do what is right because it is who they are. In a news cycle filled with the worst of human acts, there are still moments where the darkness is pierced by the light of a single act of goodness. Here is my story.
I needed to run into town the other day to return some parts, do some banking and pick up some groceries before my coupons expired. I also needed to deliver a breeding bull to some farmers in the same general direction. So I combined my two trips into one. Of course driving in St. Cloud with a stock trailer and truck limits your options of stops and how far into town you really want to drive. The key is finding large parking lots or a couple of open parking spaces in a row.
Now, I had to figure out how to make all of my stops in the most economical manner. It would make the most sense to go to town first and then work my way back to the farm to deliver the bull. That plan changed very quickly. Before I headed to St. Cloud, my first stop was in our hometown of Rice to pick up a spark plug for the irrigation engine. Once I realized Arnie was out deer hunting and the guy running the shop didn’t know how to find the spark plugs, I headed back out to the truck. There was a lady standing by my trailer peering in to see where all the noise was coming from. She had to stop and see the pretty “cow” because she heard it mooing. That’s when I realize my trip plans were being rerouted. I didn’t need to take the bull to town with me.
When I got to the farm, the guys were just finishing up their first shift of milking before they switched out the barn for the next group. Even though I wasn’t dressed to be in the barn, it was still nice to see their girls and imagine how our bull was going to work in their system. The last bull I delivered to them was all grown up and still doing his job. We sell our bulls at about a year old, just the right size for heifers. We never get to see them all grown up. He didn’t look like the same young thing I dropped off a couple of years earlier.
I like making delivery runs. I’m always looking for new ways to solve old problems. It amazes me to see how other people make their operations work for them. I learn so much and pick up different ideas that might work back home.
Once the guys could stop milking, they directed me to where they wanted their new bull. I backed the trailer up into a shed filled with young heifers. I was intrigued by the way their gate system worked. They could move animals between pens with just one person because of the way their gates were hinged. It was like my corner cupboard door that is hinged in the middle so it can straighten out the bend to make more room. With little effort they could sort off some cattle in a pen to make room for the new bull. Once the bull was dropped off and the trailer pulled out of the shed, it was time to head to town. I put the check in my pocket. It didn’t have a name on it yet. I needed copy it off and put it in my books before I could deposit it.
My two next stops involved returning parts and trying to find the right spark plug. I was having a hard time finding this specific plug. In and out of stores I ran, in a hurry to get to my next stop. I didn’t really want to venture too far into town with the trailer but I had to make some deposits at the bank. Now, a stock trailer is just a bit too long to make it through the drive-thru and I had been standing in the barn, so my shoes weren’t too clean. I figured the only way this stop was going to work was to park along the street in a couple a parking spots and walk up to the drive-thru. The gals at the window didn’t seem to be very surprised by my appearance at the window. They said it happens quite a bit when the lobby is closed. The car behind me may not have been so calm about the appearance. Now if I was back home in Stronghurst, I would have just taken my boots off at the door and slid across the polished tile floor to the closest teller but I don’t think the big city customers would have appreciated my country efforts.
My errand run was about done. I had to stop and grab groceries and then one last effort at the car part store for the spark plug. Their parking lot wasn’t quite big enough but I made it work. It turned out to be an interesting stop. They could cross reference my spark plug to find one that would work. I grabbed my farm checkbook to pay for the part. It was only a couple of dollars but they still needed my driver’s license to cash the check. That’s when it hit me. I didn’t have my little pocket purse with my license and credit cards. I had been driving without a license on me! I scrounged throughout my purse to find enough change to pay the bill. Then I climbed into the truck to take the back way to the feed store for a ton a lime. Mark figured since I had the trailer, Steve could just put a pallet of lime in the back. It would save us a trip later in the week.
I made it home safely without being stopped by any cops. What a relief. But the real surprise came later that night after milking. Gerard called me to see if I still had the check he gave me that morning. I thought I did. I hadn’t cleaned out my pockets yet. Apparently I would have searched for quite a while. When I was at a farm supply store, the signed check fell out of my pocket in the parking lot. I didn’t even have a clue it was missing. A young lady found the check and turned it in at the customer service desk. She could have walked away with it and no one would have ever known. The store recognized the name on the account and called them to let them know the check was stored in their safe.
She left no name to claim any reward. She just did what was right because it was the right thing to do. All I can say is Thank you. Thank you. Thank 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. (Natalie grew up in Stronghurst, the daughter of Becky and the late Larry Dowell.)
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