Buffalo Gal

Exactly one week ago, on Tuesday August 23, I was at the Johnson’s home…a working farm northwest of our place.
They asked my husband if he would take care of their calves and chickens while they had to be at the State Fair in St Paul. My husband declined on the grounds that HE was also going to the State Fair and that’s when I spoke up and said I could do it.
I have not been a farmer’s helper for over 50 years, The last time I fed chickens and gathered eggs and filled watering tanks at a farm was when I was still a pre-teenager staying at my Gramma’s farm near Rollag MN. And I did not have to do it alone—– and in the rain!
I could go with my Uncle Wally and help give the calves milk from the nursing pails and we could let the calves suck our fingers afterwards which was always a bit scary as the calves were very powerful suckers and I felt like my fingers were separating from my hands. But it was all fun.
Same thing when I went with either Aunt Bernie or Aunt Clarie to pick eggs and feed the hens. It was FUN to have the hens swarming around your legs when you gave them feed. It was FUN to find the eggs in the nests.
But doing chores for the Johnsons is serious business and I got some tips from the Johnson’s teenage kids who normally do the chores I am now doing. Becca told me about one “broody” hen who does not want to give up her eggs nor does she want to get off her nest. Becca told me I might have to use a shovel to get her to move but I should be careful not to break eggs with the shovel! Jeremiah told me how he had been attacked by the rooster once but if I gave him a kick he would stop it…just don’t punt him over the fence, he said.
The calves were supposed to be a cinch since all I knew I had to do was fill their water containers. But when I got there yesterday, there was a note about feeding the four calves some ground up grain. Nobody mentioned that two of the calves are smaller than two others and that the two big ones are bullies (literally) and do not want to share food with the small calves.
My first run was with my husband who had not left yet, so he fed the calves with me watching. He had to push and shove the big calves away from the small ones and the two big calves were a lot bigger than my husband!!!! He solved the bullying problem by separately feeding the two small ones, so today when I had to do chores solo, I went with a bit of trepidation.
The chickens were a piece of cake. I brought a lawn rake and showed those hens and the rooster my weapon. They all fled the hen house—- even the broody hen and the rooster. I had them intimidated and I picked a dozen eggs easily. I fed them and checked the water. All was well on the Western Front so I turned my attention to the four calves.
They were all placidly eating on a big round hay bale when I arrived. But as soon as I climbed the fence with my feed bucket,(also wearing my husband’s Wellington boots) the big ones came galloping. I gave each of them a hard punch on the head while I filled the feeder with half the grain. Then when the big ones were eating, I hand-fed the little guys who were eager eaters and kind of bullied each other for the chance to eat the most from my bucket. A few pushes and punches worked again and they both got equal portions. The two big ones noticed what was going on behind them and came over to get more food but I out-bullied them again with some head punches and eventually everybody took a good drink and went back to the hay bale. I was kind of hampered by the big Wellington boots but I did not want to get manure muck on my old shoes so I wore the clumsy boots and thankfully I did not fall over in the calf pen.
I think I can handle my few more days of being a farmer’s helper.
My confidence has expanded..just like the blasted rooster who had to crow loudly at me after I left the chicken pen.
I might crow back at him tomorrow!!