The FarmWhen most people hear me talk about where I live, they kind of just roll their eyes, and pretend they’re listening to what I have to say. I know this is rude and all, but it doesn’t bother me too much anymore. What do they know? They don’t understand the true feelings I have about the place where I grew up. They don’t know what it’s like to put in a hard days work and when the day is done, look back at what you did, giving yourself a feeling of accomplishment. Even so, they don’t know what it’s like to work on a project for a week, and in the end be able to look at it for years to come. They just don’t know. Growing up on the farm, I’ve become accustomed to the sights, sounds, and smells. As a matter of fact, back in school, whenever we drove passed a feedlot, all my peers would say “that stinks” or “look at that cow, it’s pooping!” I’ve seen all this before for many years. The strong smell of manure doesn’t bother me at all. Often, when I come home from school, I find myself wanting to get out of the house and just walk around aimlessly. I 
can’t really tell you why, I just like to be outdoors. It gives me time to think and relax just for a bit, to straighten my head out when needed (which happens all too often). Something that has to be done at least once a week in the winter time is feeding the cows hay. This time of year, we’ve brought the cows off grass pastures and put them in a fenced in lot. They have no food for themselves to get to, so I, or someone at home, feeds them big round bales of hay. To someone who’s never had to do this before, I’m sure it sounds like a simple task. But when it is ten degrees out with a negative twenty degree wind chill, this simple task becomes something of a nightmare. Today’s weather is nice, so I cannot complain. I climb up on the Case 930 tractor without a cab, which means I am exposed to the elements of Mother Nature’s fury. The smell of lube grease on the steering wheel is rather pungent. I start it up and watch a big, black cloud of smoke barrel out of the smoke stack. It’s noisy as hell, being that the exhaust is coming right out the top in front of me. Vibrations from the engine rattle up the steering column and eventually make their way up to my shoulders. I can see just about everything from the seat, but when I get a load of hay, I cannot see right in front of me because I have this six foot round bale on the front bucket-fork, and directly behind me because there’s another six foot round bale on the back bale spear. I usually try to be careful when I’m feeding hay so I don’t hurt any of the cows, but when I get frustrated, I get impatient just push them out of the way using the tractor with the bale at the end. Once I fill the feeders with fresh bales, I have to walk out with a knife and cut string off the bales. This sucks, because you have to move the cows out of your way so you can get to the bale.
I struggle to pull the last few strings off this one ton “fruit by the foot.”If you’ve ever rolled up a sleeping back and tied it so it didn’t unravel, that’s pretty much how a round bale is made, except to scale. I almost marvel at the fact of how far farming has come 
since the days of my great-great grandfather. Back then farmers all pitched the cut hay by hand with a pitchfork into piles. Today, one person can do what would be a month’s work back then, done in about a week. When I finally do cut all the strings and pull them all off, I stand back and watch the cows eat. They seem oblivious that I’m standing right next to them. As I watch, I look around the lot and notice a few broken lines of wire. The sight of this makes me rather angry for many reasons. One, because that means calves will get out of the lot and cause trouble, like getting hit by a car, for instance. Two, my family and I spent many rough hours building this fence, and three, I have to get the supplies and tools to fix the broken sections of fence. I remember building this fence. This is probably one of the most exhausting, arduous tasks man has ever invented. Starting out, dad will string out one wire across the section he wants fenced, in this case was the north section of the lot. This is used for a reference when putting in the posts so they’re in a straight line. Then, I walk between twelve to fifteen strides and drive a post in. This is probably the hardest part of the job. It takes a fifty pound driver to put posts in the ground, which will tire even the strongest body builder’s arms out after a few hours’ work. Once all the posts are driven in place, we use wire clips to hang up the first ‘reference strand’ of wire. Then I follow up wit
h three more wires, and the job is finished. Keep in mind this is barbed wire, so by the end of the day, everyone working on the fence will have hands that are all scratched and gashed up, looking like raw hamburger. Another winter time chore and the last thing I have to do today is chop ice. Temperature usually determines how easy or difficult this task is. If it’s really cold the ice will be more than a couple of inches thick, which makes my job rather difficult. On the other hand, if it’s warmer outside then the ice is towards the thinner side and makes the chore easier. All that is needed is a small circle, so the animals can stick their mouths down to get a drink. I grasp the handle and begin thrusting my spade on the ice, chipping away small pieces. Today is warm for the winter season, so as I continue chopping, bigger and bigger pieces chip away and I eventually reach the water. I finish making the hole, and call the cows to drink. My hands are cold from grasping the handle, and my arms are fatigued from breaking the ice. By the time tomorrow rolls around, the hole I just made will be frozen back over with the ice being a couple of inches thick. Each year I keep back replacement heifers, so have to run water to them with a hose and fill up their tank. When the tank is full, I string the hose out down the hill so the water can 
drain out of it. This way the water inside the hose doesn’t freeze and cause it to leak. To finish up my day, I walk back to the shed and grab a bag of feed, which is made up of compressed alfalfa pellets called creep feed. This is a great source of protein, which is imperative that these growing calves have a surplus of in order for them to grow. I pour the feed into the bunk and watch them eat ravenously. To them, this feed is like “Lucky Charms” in comparison to their regular “Cheerios” of hay they get every day. I take one last look back to check and make sure everything is done, and all the animals are fed and ok. As I walk back to the house, I feel tired from all the work I just did, I have a few scrapes on my hands from repairing the fence, and I have manure on me from walking around in the lot. At this time, my fingers, nose, and ears are all freezing cold because I’m either too stupid or too stubborn to wear gloves and a hat to keep my appendages warm. I get a sick like comfort knowing that I get to do it all again tomorrow. As I kick my boots off and hang my coat up, I wonder what the weather will be like?
can’t really tell you why, I just like to be outdoors. It gives me time to think and relax just for a bit, to straighten my head out when needed (which happens all too often). Something that has to be done at least once a week in the winter time is feeding the cows hay. This time of year, we’ve brought the cows off grass pastures and put them in a fenced in lot. They have no food for themselves to get to, so I, or someone at home, feeds them big round bales of hay. To someone who’s never had to do this before, I’m sure it sounds like a simple task. But when it is ten degrees out with a negative twenty degree wind chill, this simple task becomes something of a nightmare. Today’s weather is nice, so I cannot complain. I climb up on the Case 930 tractor without a cab, which means I am exposed to the elements of Mother Nature’s fury. The smell of lube grease on the steering wheel is rather pungent. I start it up and watch a big, black cloud of smoke barrel out of the smoke stack. It’s noisy as hell, being that the exhaust is coming right out the top in front of me. Vibrations from the engine rattle up the steering column and eventually make their way up to my shoulders. I can see just about everything from the seat, but when I get a load of hay, I cannot see right in front of me because I have this six foot round bale on the front bucket-fork, and directly behind me because there’s another six foot round bale on the back bale spear. I usually try to be careful when I’m feeding hay so I don’t hurt any of the cows, but when I get frustrated, I get impatient just push them out of the way using the tractor with the bale at the end. Once I fill the feeders with fresh bales, I have to walk out with a knife and cut string off the bales. This sucks, because you have to move the cows out of your way so you can get to the bale.I struggle to pull the last few strings off this one ton “fruit by the foot.”
since the days of my great-great grandfather. Back then farmers all pitched the cut hay by hand with a pitchfork into piles. Today, one person can do what would be a month’s work back then, done in about a week. When I finally do cut all the strings and pull them all off, I stand back and watch the cows eat. They seem oblivious that I’m standing right next to them. As I watch, I look around the lot and notice a few broken lines of wire. The sight of this makes me rather angry for many reasons. One, because that means calves will get out of the lot and cause trouble, like getting hit by a car, for instance. Two, my family and I spent many rough hours building this fence, and three, I have to get the supplies and tools to fix the broken sections of fence. I remember building this fence. This is probably one of the most exhausting, arduous tasks man has ever invented. Starting out, dad will string out one wire across the section he wants fenced, in this case was the north section of the lot. This is used for a reference when putting in the posts so they’re in a straight line. Then, I walk between twelve to fifteen strides and drive a post in. This is probably the hardest part of the job. It takes a fifty pound driver to put posts in the ground, which will tire even the strongest body builder’s arms out after a few hours’ work. Once all the posts are driven in place, we use wire clips to hang up the first ‘reference strand’ of wire. Then I follow up wit
h three more wires, and the job is finished. Keep in mind this is barbed wire, so by the end of the day, everyone working on the fence will have hands that are all scratched and gashed up, looking like raw hamburger. Another winter time chore and the last thing I have to do today is chop ice. Temperature usually determines how easy or difficult this task is. If it’s really cold the ice will be more than a couple of inches thick, which makes my job rather difficult. On the other hand, if it’s warmer outside then the ice is towards the thinner side and makes the chore easier. All that is needed is a small circle, so the animals can stick their mouths down to get a drink. I grasp the handle and begin thrusting my spade on the ice, chipping away small pieces. Today is warm for the winter season, so as I continue chopping, bigger and bigger pieces chip away and I eventually reach the water. I finish making the hole, and call the cows to drink. My hands are cold from grasping the handle, and my arms are fatigued from breaking the ice. By the time tomorrow rolls around, the hole I just made will be frozen back over with the ice being a couple of inches thick. Each year I keep back replacement heifers, so have to run water to them with a hose and fill up their tank. When the tank is full, I string the hose out down the hill so the water can 
drain out of it. This way the water inside the hose doesn’t freeze and cause it to leak. To finish up my day, I walk back to the shed and grab a bag of feed, which is made up of compressed alfalfa pellets called creep feed. This is a great source of protein, which is imperative that these growing calves have a surplus of in order for them to grow. I pour the feed into the bunk and watch them eat ravenously. To them, this feed is like “Lucky Charms” in comparison to their regular “Cheerios” of hay they get every day. I take one last look back to check and make sure everything is done, and all the animals are fed and ok. As I walk back to the house, I feel tired from all the work I just did, I have a few scrapes on my hands from repairing the fence, and I have manure on me from walking around in the lot. At this time, my fingers, nose, and ears are all freezing cold because I’m either too stupid or too stubborn to wear gloves and a hat to keep my appendages warm. I get a sick like comfort knowing that I get to do it all again tomorrow. As I kick my boots off and hang my coat up, I wonder what the weather will be like? 
