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Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Riding The Milk Cow

My dad grew up in a time without gameboys, facebook or really any of the things that consume a kids time.  He, and his friends, had time on their hand to think of things to do that actually involved them doing it.  After hearing some of these stories, I have to wonder how he survived!  This is some of his story, in his words.

As a child growing up, all I heard was how tough it was to ride a cow with a saddle. One morning, my parents were going to town to buy groceries and asked if I wanted to go. I told them I believed I would stay home. Well I waited about 15 minutes to make sure they wouldn’t come back. I went out and brought in the milk cow. She was an old range cow we had broke to milk, so needless to say her temperament wasn’t the best. Now I guess I had better tell you the design of the barn. It was low roofed with 2x6 rafters and had a 4ft door and of course stanchions for the cows to put their heads into.

Just like he pictured it in his mind.......
Getting her into the stanchions was easy. A little grain and in she went. Next came the saddle that was a tad bit more challenging. As I carried the saddle to her, the first thing she did was cow kick both me and the saddle and knocked us across the barn. Needless say, I was a little bit more careful the next time I packed the saddle up to her.

Well, as you know, cows don’t have any withers, so I got the saddle in place, cinched as tight as I could pull it. Next I thought I would open the door because I didn’t want to be locked in the barn with her when I let her head out of the stanchion. The next step was to get aboard. That done, I reached up and opened the stanchion.

Well, from that point on, it went from bad to worse. The bucking and jumping was nothing, but them rafters were sure playing hell with my head! Next thing I know she spied the door and through it she went. Everything managed to go through, even my legs, but I did leave a couple of pounds of hide and meat (mine) on the door. Once outside things got better and I managed to get her rode.

It seemed like a good idea at the time...
I got the saddle off and thought no one will ever know about riding the milk cow, but I didn’t think about the bumps and bruises that was bound to show. That night when I milked, we only got a quart of milk. When my Dad asked why, I said I tipped the bucket over. He said, "yea sure you did. Did you fall down to get them bumps on your head too?"

Dad never said any thing but I am sure he knew what went on. I guess the saying of when your young and bullet proof, nothing can go wrong or maybe you are just plain stupid.

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