What is a Farmer?

What is a farmer....?

A commercial farmer is a business man.

A family farmer is a jack of all trades.

The Old Farmer was a mechanic.

   He had to keep the tractor running.

The Old Farmer was an electrician.

    Rewiring lamps and plugs.There was an electric fence 

   around the animal pens. A mild shock we used to play with. 

   But kept the animals inside.

The Old Farmer was a plumber.

   He fixed the water pump, he fixed leaks, he ran sewer lines.

The Old Farmer was a contractor.

   Repairs to the barns as necessary. Moving the shed. 

   Drywall and wallpapering.

   Fixing the double hung windows.

The Old Farmer practiced husbandry.

   He knew about farm animals. Breeding hogs, raising cows, 

   gelding piglets (some things don't oblige description! )

The Old Farmer was a hunter.

   He knew where the deer were, how to run a rabbit, 

   shoot a pheasant on the fly.

And of course The Old Farmer was a farmer!

   We had the family garden. He grew winter wheat 

   and corn and hay.

The Old Farmer was an accountant.

   He kept the records and filed the taxes.

The Old Farmer was a volunteer.

   A volunteer fireman. A volunteer at the church. 

   A good neighbor.

The Old Farmer was first and foremost a father.

   He hung the tree swing. Built a sand box. Taught the children

   his skills. The man in the moon. The cut worm. 

   Corn should be knee high by the fourth of July,

   Using tools. We tagged around after him learning 

   all these things and more.

In short a "farmer" took care of businss. No excuses.

MEMORIAL DAY

 

 Remember our Warriors

 

 

With Gratitude

The Old Road is Widened

The time came when the old crumbly one lane road was to be widened.
To a two lane road with no lines, but wide shoulders and ditches. 

This was BIG.

 
I think I mentioned in a previous blog how the pond came to be.
The state road people needed some fill for the new road
and asked The Old Farmer for it. Win Win!

 
Along the road in front of the orchard was a row
of old rough looking pines. They were taken out.
The Old Farmer's children went exploring along the destruction
and found a nest of baby owls had been upset from a hollow tree.

We were sorry for them.
But it was farm life, in those days nature fended for itself.
I was a young toddler so did not have the say to try and rescue them. 
Perhaps the mother herded them to a safe place....
That is the end of that sad story.

Old Advertising

 Old advertising was always entertainment when on a road trip.

The best were the Burma Shave signs. They came in a series of five or six

little signs, five or six little blurbs that told a story. 

 On the drive to visit family in neighboring town there was a row of these signs.
Everytime we drove by them The Old Farmer says look at these signs,
what do they say!~ And we would try to read them everytime.
Here is a selection of ones I found funny.

We Don't

  know how

to Split an Atom

But as to whiskers

let us atem

Burma Shave

The Wolf

is shaved

So neat and trim

Red Riding

is chasing him!

Burma Shave

 

If Harmony

is what

you crave

 get a tuba

burma shave

Toughest

whiskers

in the town

we hold them up

you mow them down

Burma Shave

 
 Said Farmer Brown

who's bald

on top

I wish I could

rotate the crop

Burma Shave

Raising Pheasants

Spring projects are in the air.
The Old Farmer's children were all active in 4-H.

One spring project, in conjunction with the game department, 

was raising pheasant chicks to replenish the fields for fall hunters. 

Hunting was and still is a big part of farm/country life.

 

There was an old building 

on the farm,

 about 10x10 feet square.
It had been a smokehouse back 

in the days they would

preserve meat for the family. 

Smoke would be channeled
into the building from 

an outside source 

and infuse the fresh ham 

and bacon with smoky flavor 

and preserve them. 

 The inside of this building was remembered as being quite black and sooty.
The Old Farmer and wife tried several uses for it over the years.
It was thought it would be a good playhouse for the Old Farmer's children.
This did not work to well as they (the children) came out sooty :  ) 

At one time rabbits were kept in it. 

When the pheasant project came along The Old Farmer moved

the building away from the yard, built a fenced area behind, and 

the interior was whitewashed. 

The big day finally arrived and a box with 30-50 baby chicks arrived, days old.
At that age they were kept in a small enclosed circle with a heat lamp above. 

As they grew the area was enlarged until they were old enough to go outside. 

As they neared 6 weeks of age plans were made to release them into the wild. 

This involved catching them, putting them into a portable chicken coop, 

and driving out into a field to release. This was usually supervised by a game warden.
One year it was thought we could release them at the pen area which backed up

to an old orchard that was quite overgrown. Unfortunately they stayed close

"to home" and many met unfortunate ends at the hands of local cats and dogs. 

This release method was not repeated.

Spring Time on the Farm

Spring is the time of new growth and new life.

Springtime on the farm - that usually looks like a new vegetable garden, 

uncovering the perennial flower gardens, and litters of puppies and kittens, 

mostly kittens!  With one ‘official’ house cat (an outdoor cat with indoor privileges) 

and many barn cats, kittens were guaranteed.  

(An unintended double exposure that turned out well, the cat with
house privileges is in the middle)

Always the kitten litters were lovingly placed into an old cardboard box 

padded with clean rags.  Then the mothers could jump in 

 and out with the kittens safe in the box. 

 And sometimes there was sharing as the mother and kittens 

and an adoptive mother were all in one box! 

 Occasionally the barn cats found a spot so deeply buried 

in the stacked straw bales they we didn't see the kittens 

until they were old enough to be running around.  

 There was one time when the ‘official’ house cat came up to the door 

 from being outside, wanting to come in the house carrying a mouse in her mouth.  

Of course that was not allowed.  As the cat became more insistent and frantic, 

we could see it was not a mouse but a newborn kitten!  

So immediately a box was prepared and the kitten put in.  

Then the mother led us to the rest of the litter in a dark corner in the basement 

of one of the barns.  She couldn't rest until all her kittens were safely ensconced

 in the box in the house.  Then she was happy.

By Guest Blogger today, with thanks to the other Old Farmer's Daughter