I guess I'm just a cat farmer now

It was very hard for me to get rid of my last Jersey cow.  It left me feeling sad.  At least I still had the chickens, and consoled myself with that idea for a while.  But I never was chicken-crazy the way some folks are, definitely not in the way I have always felt about Jersey cows.  When I travel, the chickens are just something for somebody else to take care of:  they have to shut them up at night so varmints don't get them, gather the eggs, make sure they have food and water.  Not hard work, but the relatives around here all put in long hours at jobs in the city and it just makes one extra thing for them to do when they get home.  

I put the hens on Craigslist last weekend, but only got one call.  That guy thought he wanted them, but he found something closer to home.  I had them priced cheaper than any other chickens on Craigslist, and knew I'd sell them eventually.

Yesterday a local man on Facebook mentioned he wanted to add a few hens to his flock; I told him I had some for sale, and he came and got them.  I don't think I'll miss them too much, except for having the fresh eggs.  A next-door neighbor has hens, so perhaps I can buy eggs from her.  I sent her a message on Facebook, inquiring.  

We still have the Holstein steers we're raising for beef (they'll be butchered in October), and I have four barn cats.  That's the extent of my livestock, unless you want to count the horses that belong to Cora's parents.  I have all the advantages of horses with them here, and very few of the disadvantages.  I can't ride these days, but I can pet them if I've a mind to, and get a whiff of them (I love the smell of horses).  I can watch them running in the pasture.  Horses are some of God's most beautiful work.  

Lacking other critters to chore after, I have become more of a cat person than I used to be.  They eat in the barn, but they lounge on my front and back porches.  By the time I go outside to feed them each morning, they are waiting impatiently to escort me to the barn, as though I couldn't find my way without them.  

Mama Kitty left when I brought in the youngsters in mid-September.  She hated them, even ran when she saw them approaching.  Sometimes I wouldn't see her for a week or two at a time.  It's just in the last several days she decided to come home and stay.  Now she will even go in the barn to eat with the others, but everybody has to eat from a separate dish!  It's ridiculous.  I never thought I'd be chambermaid to a bunch of cats, letting them tell me what to do.  

I took about 15 pictures of Mama Kitty this morning while she was eating, but she has never been photogenic.  If she isn't eating, she will often run from the camera.  So what you see is what you get.

   

See how she deliberately looks away from the camera?  She always does this, whether she is eating or not.  

Anyway, I'm glad to have her back.  She's been a good, faithful mouser ever since she happened onto our property.

I will eventually get a dog, I imagine.  I would love to have a German Shepherd, but I don't want one in the house.  Cliff and I have discussed using an abandoned pen for a dog, letting it out, of course, when we are outside.  We'll see how I feel about this in a year.  Maybe the right dog will find me at the right time, like Mama Kitty did.

Peace.

Tribute to my Cousin

My husband, Cliff, was born and raised in the city, but as a kid his family visited relatives in a rural area.  He developed a fascination with tractors back then.  He recalls the first time he drove a tractor, an uncle's John Deere B.  The uncle rode along on the drawbar, no doubt to make sure the kid did things right.  

Cliff and I bought a place in the country not long after we married and of course, he bought a tractor.  John Deere came out with the 4020 around that time and he'd pull off the road and park just to watch a farmer plowing in the field. 

My husband says he first met Gerald at one of my family reunions.  We were newlyweds, and I imagine he felt somewhat awkward not knowing anyone.  He remembers Gerald being the one who met him as he got out of the car, introduced himself, and made him feel welcome.  

When we had our babies, Gerald and his wife were having babies too.  We'd travel north to visit them often.  The men would head to the shed so Cliff could admire the tractor and implements.  We women would compare babies.  

A time came when Gerald called and asked Cliff if he'd consider coming up for a couple of days to help him with the spring planting.  Cliff's dream had come true.  He was going to get to operate a big tractor. 

Gerald put Cliff on his biggest tractor, an Allis Chalmers D-19 with DUALS on it, pulling a spring-tooth harrow.  Cliff was beside himself with excitement.  Gerald was following behind him on the D-17, planting.  Cliff made too sharp a turn at one point, and the spring-tooth harrow hit a tire and climbed up on it, scaring and embarrassing my poor husband.  No permanent damage was done, though, and Cliff's dream of sitting on a big tractor and actually working a field had come true.

Gerald bought a motorcycle and started planning a long trip out west.  He invited Cliff to go along, as well as another cousin, Doyle.  I wasn't crazy about the idea, but tried not to pout.  They rode for days and saw all there was to see, coming back wind-burned and worn.  Cliff, back then, wasn't an early riser, but Gerald was.  Cliff said they'd wake up to see Gerald sitting there smoking his pipe, motorcycle loaded with his gear and ready to go.  Don't even think about waiting until the dew has dried off or the chill is out of the air, because time is wasting!  Then in the afternoon around four o'clock, when Cliff was ready to ride till dark, Gerald would announce, "It's time to pull in our horns and look for a place to stay."  

And they'd go get some bologna and beer and call it a night.

Meanwhile, Cliff had gotten enough of a taste of farming, hanging around with my cousin, that he wanted to try it himself.  We sold our little place at Oak Grove and moved within a few miles of Gerald to a rental house, hoping to get situated and find someplace to set up a small farm.  This was 1974, a bad year for farming, and we ended up going back where we came from within ten months.  But while we were there, Cliff got to help Gerald farm again.  This time Gerald's big tractor was a 1750 Oliver.  That was a thrill, Cliff says, because of the size of it.  You knew at a distance it was the 1750 by the noise from the transmission gears, he said.  Tractors are Cliff's passion:  He has a big Oliver tractor and an Allis Chalmers D-17 today because those are the ones he first fell in love with helping Gerald.  

But Gerald's passion has always been in restoring classic cars to like-new perfection.  He taught himself to paint and do the body-work and wiring.  He did the motor overhauls.  When he was done with a car, it was an unbelievable thing of beauty.

Gerald was a perfectionist in everything he did.  He built cabinets.  He could weld like a pro.  When he made up his mind to do something, it was done right.  He once built a huge blade from scratch that Cliff couldn't even believe, it was so marvelous in its perfection. 

Cliff carries Gerald's influence with him always, and speaks of him often, referring to him at times as "genius".  I hope and pray my cousin realized we held him in high regard and how much he has always meant to both of us. 

I leave you with a quote from my favorite movie, "It's a Wonderful Life":

"Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?"

We are going to miss Gerald.  I hope he knew how we felt about him.  

Keep the light on for us, Cousin.