In 1985 we decided to move from Houston, Texas to a little bitty town called Magnolia, Iowa. I was still married to Clown Shoes and my girls were only 2,3, and 8. We never had really gotten on our feet in Texas and by this time we were out of options there but we knew some people in Pisgah, Iowa who had been inviting us to come stay a while so we headed that way.
It wasn't winter so we fell in love with the countryside in Iowa and the simplicity of the people around Pisgah. Our friends lived on a 160 acre farm outside of Pisgah on the border of Magnolia. We found a house two miles from theirs in Magnolia that needed tons of work done but the landlord was offering three months free and then only $75. a month for rent so we jumped on it. It took most of the three months to fix up the house but we lived there while fixing it.
It was a big old farmhouse built in the ere when houses were built without closets because they were taxed by the room and a closet was considered a room. The farm it sat on was about 100 acres and rented out for grazing or farming. Besides the house there was a huge three sided garage for tractors and such and two large barns and two sheds. The barn closest to the house was use for the cattle on the land but the other buildings were unused providing a lot of exploring and play space for the girls and us.
The first thing I wanted was chickens so we set about the business of getting some. We started by buying three big white Leghorn hens from a farmer near Logan and put them up in one of the little sheds that appeared to be designed for chickens with a door to a little fenced yard. Clown Shoes made them each a nice soft nest and that night he went to check on them and found them sitting up on the rafters instead of in their nests. He shooed them off of the rafters and put them each in a nest and left them only to return and find them again sleeping on the rafters. Finally I looked chickens up in the encyclopedia and read that they sleep perched up high to avoid weasels and such. It was one a.m. already so I called Clown Shoes in from the shed and told him to leave the chickens alone.
Eventually we got more Leghorn chickens and then a rooster for them. We also got a flock of guineas and a couple of lambs, two ducks, a goat and a pig plus we had three dogs and a few cats that turned into a barn full of cats. Someone gave us a little colorful rooster that we decided to let run free away from our Leghorns and that was the first note of discontent on the farm. That rooster was mean. Maybe because he was kept without any hens to be with but he was meaner than all get out and particularly hated me. Maybe he knew I was the one who decided not to cross him with our precious double yolk Leghorns but he really hated me. He attacked me one day spurring me badly and knocking me in the cess pool and I got so mad I shot him. Not only did I shoot him, but I waited for him to look at me, not pulling the trigger until we locked eyes so he would know I was the one who shot him. Then I threw him in the burning barrel not even wanting to give him the honor of gracing my dinner table.
The pig fared a little better. He was a runt a neighbor gave us because my brother spotted one of his sheds on fire and alerted him, saving the farm. I named him Stewart and played the guitar and sang to him his first few nights in his shed to calm him. He got so big he would lay in front of the door and trap us in the house. We finally decided he had to go when he got to be 400lbs and still wanted to play tag like when he was a baby. We sadly took him to the butcher (he filled a 4 by 6 trailer) and left him but on the way home I had second thoughts and rushed back to save him but it was too late. That meat sat in a meat locker for three years before I finally asked them to throw it out. Never name your food.
We lived on that farm for eight years before moving back to city life. We went through some hard times and tragedies but mostly I remember the wonder of the animal and plant life around us. My children didn't even have or miss having a TV growing up because they had nature to watch. I regret many things in my life but the years on that farm will always be a wonderful memory of my little family.
It wasn't winter so we fell in love with the countryside in Iowa and the simplicity of the people around Pisgah. Our friends lived on a 160 acre farm outside of Pisgah on the border of Magnolia. We found a house two miles from theirs in Magnolia that needed tons of work done but the landlord was offering three months free and then only $75. a month for rent so we jumped on it. It took most of the three months to fix up the house but we lived there while fixing it.
It was a big old farmhouse built in the ere when houses were built without closets because they were taxed by the room and a closet was considered a room. The farm it sat on was about 100 acres and rented out for grazing or farming. Besides the house there was a huge three sided garage for tractors and such and two large barns and two sheds. The barn closest to the house was use for the cattle on the land but the other buildings were unused providing a lot of exploring and play space for the girls and us.
The first thing I wanted was chickens so we set about the business of getting some. We started by buying three big white Leghorn hens from a farmer near Logan and put them up in one of the little sheds that appeared to be designed for chickens with a door to a little fenced yard. Clown Shoes made them each a nice soft nest and that night he went to check on them and found them sitting up on the rafters instead of in their nests. He shooed them off of the rafters and put them each in a nest and left them only to return and find them again sleeping on the rafters. Finally I looked chickens up in the encyclopedia and read that they sleep perched up high to avoid weasels and such. It was one a.m. already so I called Clown Shoes in from the shed and told him to leave the chickens alone.
Eventually we got more Leghorn chickens and then a rooster for them. We also got a flock of guineas and a couple of lambs, two ducks, a goat and a pig plus we had three dogs and a few cats that turned into a barn full of cats. Someone gave us a little colorful rooster that we decided to let run free away from our Leghorns and that was the first note of discontent on the farm. That rooster was mean. Maybe because he was kept without any hens to be with but he was meaner than all get out and particularly hated me. Maybe he knew I was the one who decided not to cross him with our precious double yolk Leghorns but he really hated me. He attacked me one day spurring me badly and knocking me in the cess pool and I got so mad I shot him. Not only did I shoot him, but I waited for him to look at me, not pulling the trigger until we locked eyes so he would know I was the one who shot him. Then I threw him in the burning barrel not even wanting to give him the honor of gracing my dinner table.
The pig fared a little better. He was a runt a neighbor gave us because my brother spotted one of his sheds on fire and alerted him, saving the farm. I named him Stewart and played the guitar and sang to him his first few nights in his shed to calm him. He got so big he would lay in front of the door and trap us in the house. We finally decided he had to go when he got to be 400lbs and still wanted to play tag like when he was a baby. We sadly took him to the butcher (he filled a 4 by 6 trailer) and left him but on the way home I had second thoughts and rushed back to save him but it was too late. That meat sat in a meat locker for three years before I finally asked them to throw it out. Never name your food.
We lived on that farm for eight years before moving back to city life. We went through some hard times and tragedies but mostly I remember the wonder of the animal and plant life around us. My children didn't even have or miss having a TV growing up because they had nature to watch. I regret many things in my life but the years on that farm will always be a wonderful memory of my little family.
1 comment:
Hey, you know what missing from this story ?
A picture of that farm !
And for sure, none shoulnd`t give name to them (future) food ...
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