August 08, 2004

Exploring my roots in rural Iowa....Part II

We lived out in BFE for several years. I can recall several fond memories, including my first exposure to livestock, learning to drive a bobcat, experiencing my first "frog fry", learning how to "share" my parents with my newborn baby brother, seeing my first flood, and getting my first crush on an older man.

First exposure to livestock: As a townie, I would occasionally see horses when the Amish came to town for shopping but I was fairly ignorant about farm animals in general. My grandparents had a farm, but I only have very vague memories of being there and those are of playing with kittens and watching the geese at the pond. My first real memory of seeing livestock was out in BFE. My father had taken a position with a corporate farming business. Our house was on one of the corporate land holdings, so we cared for pigs and horses on the property. Another employee, who lived up the road, had cattle (and possibly more). It was at this time that I was able to expand my collection of pets to include not only kittens and dogs, but also rabbits. It was wonderful to be around these animals that I'd never been able to interact with previously. I've always loved animals, and my parents had to constantly warn me to STAY OUT OF THE HORSE PASTURE. I didn't pay as much attention as I should but finally got it into my head when they told me that the horses could trample me, especially if they saw me carrying a bucket and thought I had food. I know my parents meant well, but their constant warnings of dire circumstances made me terrified of the animals, so much so that I wouldn't go near them anymore. I just admired them from afar. As an example, I had a playhouse near the barn and Dad had tied one of the horses to a tractor weight so it wouldn't wander off. I was in my playhouse one day when the horse drug the weight over so it could peek in. It scared me and because I couldn't figure out a way to get it to move without going near it (it was a dangerous animal according to my parents), I was near hysteria. It finally moved away and I ran out of the playhouse to find safety in the house. I never stayed in my playhouse again. I feel bad about it because Dad spent a lot of time putting fixing it up and putting in windows so it would be like a real house. I was just too scared that I might get trapped in there by another animal.

Among the pigs we card for, there were two pigs in particular that were more than just livestock to me. We kept them in a separate pen, named them, and they were mine to feed and water. They were so cute as piglets and I would chase them around the pen then run as they would, in turn, chase me. I never really thought anything of it other than it was fun that they could play with me. Later when the had gotten much bigger (their shoulders were the same height as my chest), Dad told me not to get into the pens anymore. I didn't mind though. They were too big to chase and it certainly wasn't fun to be chased by a large animal. That was also when I found out that pigs can and will chew off your toes if they have the opportunity. I used to climb the fence to peek over the top, but the pigs would nibble on my boots. Again, I never thought anything of it. If I couldn't get in the pen, then surely I could sit on the fence. I changed my mind when Dad told me they could bite me toes off very easily. Well, enough said. I was officially done with the pigs. Shortly afterwards they mysteriously disappeared. Although they never really told me, I'm fairly certain they ended up in our freezer.

Although they weren't part of the livestock for the business, we kept chickens for our personal use. I remember watching Mom feed them and thinking what a messy and smelly bunch of animals they were. I never wanted to go into the pen or henhouse because they had left their "deposits" everywhere. Ick! I also remember Mom and Dad having to cut their wings so they couldn't fly over the fence. I'm sure there was a time when the chickens had to be butchered but I don't recall those memories.

Aside from the livestock, the animals I was most involved with were my personal pets. We had a German shepherd called Frisker who was always in trouble for chewing on the corner of Mom's coffee table (it still bears the marks of his chewing). When we moved to BFE, he became an outside dog and eventually became very aggressive out of excitement of getting attention. Unfortunately, he got loose one day and, with his brother Tipper who lived close by, killed some sheep. We had to put him down because you can't break a dog of that kind of aggressive behavior once they start. We also had a Brittany spaniel called Princess, who was such a sweetheart and her coloring was beautiful. There were other dogs but I didn't form any special attachment to them. I did, however, have lots of cats. As kittens, we kept them in one of the storage sheds, one of which had a whole in the floor that, I think, led to a well. I remember one of the kittens fell in the hole and died. Another was attacked by an owl and the remains left in the yard. (My uncle was very nice about taking "my baby" to the field for a proper burial.) Not too long later, my rabbit pen was attacked by a dog or coyote and both rabbits were killed. I was upset but I was used to losing pets. Living on a farm isn't easy and especially in a remote area as we were in, pets are subject to being part of the food chain just like every other animal. There were always enough pets around for me to play with.

Learning to drive a bobcat: Yes, I can drive a bobcat. There, I've confirmed it. Most people are amazed that I was taught to drive a bobcat at seven years old. Guys, there's really not a whole lot to it. You start it, make sure the bucket is off the ground, put it in forward gear and unlock the break. Sheesh. I loved this machine. It was WAY cooler to drive than fooling around with my bicycle. Oh yeah. I had no fear. I did learn some healthy respect though. Dad asked me to scoop up some tractor weights with the bucket. I gave it a try, started to lift the bucket, the weights slid out and the sudden decrease in resistance made the whole machine flip backward. Now, they make these machines bottom heavy so they WON'T flip over. Did I know that? NO! Dad was laughing his ass off telling me to try again, but I chickened out and made him do it.

Experiencing my first "frog leg fry": Did you know that you can eat frog legs? I've never tried one, but my parents used to host parties on a regular basis. Of course, the first one I recall being allowed to attend was quite interesting. They made up special t-shirts, had a huge man-sized grill, and had a LOT of beer. Or should I say a LOT of kegs? I might have tried a frog leg if I hadn't seen how they were prepared. It's morbid, but when you place the poor frog's lower half in water (the legs stay intact as a pair) and add salt to the water, the legs begin KICKING. It freaked me out. They expect me to eat legs that could kick without the body attached? I don't think so! They would dip these legs in beer batter (yum) and then fry them up for serving. I remember seeing a lot of people in the field next door. There was a lot of noise from people talking and laughing and the fires in the barrels placed around the pasture made really pretty areas of glowing light in the dark. I spent most of the party playing entertainer to the kids in our front lawn. I remember teaching some of them how to make a paper toy with four points that you move with your fingers to reveal "predictions of the future". I don't know what they're called, but they were fun to make.

Learning to share my parents with a new baby brother: When I was eight, my brother was born. I will admit it -- I was a hellish brat. I was used to having the sole attention of my parents and suddenly this little squalling ursurper had all of their attention. Mom couldn't play games with me anymore and couldn't go on bike rides with me. I was told to "go check on your brother" when I was in the midst of a fun game and didn't want to be interrupted. He was such a pest, trying to go through my room all of the time, trying to run over me with his riding tractor, etc. He was cute though and eventually we learned to tolerate each other. I actually have tremendous feelings of guilt for the way I treated him during those years. I know it was jealously, but as the older sister I should have been looking out for him, not being mean. Flogging would be too kind. Fortunately he doesn't remember any of that and we have a pretty good relationshop. I think the eight years difference in our ages though has been a big part of our lack of closeness. I'm thankful that he and my sister are close, but there is only four years difference in their ages. It makes me envious at times.

Seeing my first flood: As I've mentioned, our house was on a dead end road....the end of the dead end road. Everyone had to cross a bridge over a nearby creek to reach our house. Mom and I used to go walking along the creek, occasionally finding arrowhead points, and startling deer out of their hiding places. But one year we couldn't do that because the creek flooded and water covered the road by about 4-6 inches. It was a very swift moving current and Mom had to hold my hands as I walked into the water with her. I remember how the water tugged at my bare feet and I was afraid of being swept away. I have never learned how to properly swim (I probably look like I'm drowning when I do try to swim) and I still choose to stay on land rather than sink in water when I have the choice.

My first crush on an older man: This is a very fond memory. We had an assistant on the farm who was from Taiwan. I couldn't pronounce his real name, but he told me to call him "Bo". He never minded when I came to chat with him while he worked in the hog houses. I'd watch him wash the pens clean, letting all the nasty stuff run into the deep channel that ran through the middle of the hog house, then he'd wash the channel out towards the outside to another removal system. He was my buddy. He even took me on a date once. (Okay, he took several of us kids, but hey this is my story.) We watched a double movie feature: ET and Grease 2. It was the first time I could remember going to a movie theater. We had popcorn and everything. He was a little concerned that Grease 2 wouldn't be appropriate and that we (the other kid and I) wouldn't like it, but actually I never forgot the song Michele Pfeiffer sang at the top of that stage ladder "He's a Cool Rider", nor the big motorcycle jump at the end. Bo eventually left. He never said goodbye, just wasn't there one day. I missed him terribly.

(to be continued)


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You never told me about "Bo" lol. I can't even remember my first older man crush....