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| The pullets are growing up! |
CHICKENS. In the
spring, as I mentioned before, we got these amazing fuzzy, little yellow
creatures no bigger than a baseball from a hatchery. The hatchery’s business
revolved around hatching eggs and selling the chicks to farmers or people who
aspired to make money “the easy way.” Read on…
We
had to go to the city to pick up these babies and get them settled in their
brooder house. The gas brooder was heating the house, the water fountains were
filled and mash was scattered on old newspapers so the creatures could find
their food. Later the mash was placed in feeders. They figured that out fairly
quickly. I don’t remember the cost of each chick, but we really didn’t want too
many to die. However, die – some of them did – in spite of all our precautions.
They
loved to crowd into one corner and smother some of their roommates. Another bad
habit they had when they were little was pecking at each other. If they drew
blood, it was too late for them. The weak ones usually died at the beaks of
their mates (so to speak). Sometimes even laying hens had this nasty habit.
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| Hauling manure out of the hen house |
Finally the
baby chicks became pullets – ready to produce eggs – and ready to be housed for
the winter. Getting ready for housing the pullets in the fall meant that the
hen house roosting pit had to be cleaned out. This was a stinky job that our
boys got to do along with a couple of strong armed high school boys to help
out. This usually took most of the day. Then the building was sprayed with a
de-lousing chemical that was a different kind of odor from the day before.
After that we were ready for catching the pullets. They loved to fly into the
trees and roost there. How to get them in their hen house? OK, it’s now time
for reinforcements, so we called the neighbors (Pete & Vera Friese and
Harold & Darlene Friese) to help catch them and carry them to the hen
house. Naturally, we had to return their “help” later.
After
all were safely in the hen house it was time to debeak them. They would be
caught off the roost in the hen house and their beaks would be burned off. This
was to prevent them from pecking at each other and, of course, dying from this
activity. We rented a debeaker from the poultry dealer.
Here’s where
the story gets better: These same neighbors came to help with this procedure,
too. Sometimes Eddie and Pete would smoke cigars in order to staunch the smell
of burning beaks. After the surgeries everyone went to the house for a huge
lunch with coffee. No beer. [I told you it was fun!]
A
nice new cattle shed stood not far from the brooder house and I had the idea
that the young chickens could live out there all summer and we would not have
to catch them out of the trees. My long-suffering husband did his best to make
me happy, so he got some chicken wire and lumber to build frames to close up
the open side of the cattle shed. Feeders and water fountains were installed
and everything was OK until one night it rained non-stop and the next morning
the poor chickens were standing in water! There were make-shift roosts in the
shed and the chickens stayed dry as long as they stayed up there, but they did
not want to come down to eat. It was a bit easier to catch them that fall, but that was the
last time the chickens were housed in that shed.
WALKING THE
BEANS.
July 1st is the time to “walk the beans” (soy beans). Mornings were
usually cool, but often wet with dew on the bean plants. Afternoons were hot
unless it was cloudy with a breeze blowing. We used bean hooks to cut the weeds
as close the ground as possible. This was easier than pulling weeds by hand.
A
few years later some smart farmer figured out how to make a horizontal cart
with four seats. Each person on the seat was armed with a squirt gun (attached
to a large tank) loaded with a chemical (Round-up) to kill the weeds. One was
supposed to aim at the weed, not the bean plant. This was successful for a
time, but then some seed company invented a bean seed that could resist the Round-up
spray and still kill the weeds. Farmers were now able to spray an entire field
and not kill the beans – just the weeds.
This
bean walking/spraying thing was a money maker for high school age boys or
girls. Too much work for some of them, though.
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| We used to say, "M-m-m, smells like money! |
PIGS
AND CALVES.
Raising baby pigs often got to be a day/night job. If mama sow felt like being
a good mother, not smothering her new little family, this was good. Eddie spend
many nights in the hog house caring for the babies that always seemed to come
at night.
Castrating
pigs was another “fun” job; at least they couldn’t run away. This job was
always a man’s job; I never got into that. The procedure for young calves was
usually done by the veterinarian. The neighbor men were sometimes called to
corral the animals so they could have the procedure done. Dehorning was also
done at this time – with the veterinarian in charge.
Cleaning
the hog house was another nasty job. Eddie and our boys did that job until they
were out of high school. Then some of the neighbor boys were hired to do it.
Usually the Mechels boys or the Albers boys came over.
CATTLE. Another fun
thing was moving cattle every spring and fall from our pasture to the pasture
on my father’s farm about three miles away. The first attempt was near
disaster, but our kids and the Friese kids and a few neighbors along the way
were alerted to keep the cattle on the road. We made it with no losses that I
remember. The fall drive was easier. They seemed to know they were coming home.
I don’t know how many years we did this, but it got easier as time went on.
Cattle are creatures of habit.
