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Chuck Hinman, IJMA 330: Cow tales It's Just Me Again 330: Cow Tales about a Nebraska experience South Central Kentuckians can appreciate: Life on a dairy farm The next earlier Chuck Hinman story Spring Again Is Chuck Hinman your favorite Sunday with CM columnist, as many tell us? If so, we hope you'll drop him a line by email. Reader comments to CM are appreciated, as are emails directly to Mr. Hinman at: charles.hinman@sbcglobal.net By Chuck Hinman Having spent the first twenty years of my life on our farm in southeastern Nebraska, you would think I would have some good cow tales. I did and I do! The only cow on our farm I specifically remember was a Holstein cow with a bad disposition. She was properly named "Crazy Heifer." She refused to be milked and we had to use "kickers" on her to keep her from kicking the milk bucket clear out of the barn! During the drought years of the '30's, the pasture dried up and we took the cows and let them graze the grass on a section line road nearby where there was little auto traffic. It was a boring job with a stint in the morning and again in the afternoon. Our folks had a library of good books. Dad and Mom were college educated - somewhat unusual for a farm family. I don't know how many times I read "The Shepherd of the Hills" by Harold Bell Wright, while herding cows. The story was popularized in later years in an outdoor theater at Branson, Missouri. I felt like I knew the characters personally, I had read the book so many times. Party line gave news away One day while herding the cows I found a twenty-dollar bill laying on the road. I could hardly wait to take the cows home and share the good news. Mom made the mistake of telling my good fortune on the party line and with the "rubberers" listening, news spread rapidly and a neighbor, Bus Norris, called saying he had lost it. He gave me a one dollar finder's fee and we were both happy! At another time, Dad rented some pasture land from a neighbor for our milk cows. No more herding, but my brother Bob and I and Dad had to load the milking equipment in our Model T jalopy and drive a couple miles to the pasture to milk those danged milk cows twice a day. We didn't have the luxury of putting the cows' heads in stanchions so they would at least stand still while we milked them. We had to chase them all over the pasture getting a little milk here, and then when the cow moved - a little milk there. You will understand how I lost my taste for milk over the years. My niece, Nancy York of Fairbury, Nebraska, has some cow tale experiences of her own as she writes: "I think of all the money people spend on rides at amusement parks, carnivals, fairs, etc. If every child could only experience the joy of a cow's hind foot in the pocket of their chore coat, it would seem the thrill seeking would come to an end. Team that up with a frozen nasty tail across the face on a sub-zero morning and who could ask for more? I guess we all have precious memories!"What more is there to say? This story was posted on 2010-04-25 01:47:38
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Chuck Hinman - Reminiscences:
Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 190 Spring Again Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 340: Me and My Hair Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 192: What's that smell? Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 052: Reading Obituaries Chuck Hinman IJMA No. 189 Shopping gone wrong Chuck Hinman IJMA No. 136: Baby chicks time on the farm Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 329: Aging gracefully Chuck Hinman, IJMA No. 334: First Impressions Chuck Hinman: IJMA No. 076, Hopelessly Trapped Chuck Hinman: IJMA No. 188, My Legacy View even more articles in topic Chuck Hinman - Reminiscences |
 
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