As Peggy would have looked, from a Illustation in a 1944 edition of a book byMiriam E. Mason, Susannah. It is one of my treasued books from Brushy Ridge School
One of the first concerns of my brand new life many years ago as a child was the apparent fear animals had of humans. But since I was born on a farm and times were very hard, I did not dwell on the subject too long at a time. The cattle, hogs, chickens and horses were an important part of the farm and used appropriately either for food, income or worked. The horses were worked extremely hard at times and when one could not do its share, it was sold to the dog food place as we called it. Life was hard to say the least.
I learned early in life, but like a lot of people did not always pay much attention to the senseless cruelty of animals, whether domesticated or wild. Chickens were used for food, as is the lowly field mouse to the Red Tail Hawk that is a fact of life. The food chain is long and unforgiving in all species of life and cannot nor should not be disrupted in most instances. This aspect of reality is not an issue with me. It is a natural occurrence from the minutest creature to the largest and a vital aspect of nature.
As a boy I quickly discovered the remarkable intelligence of animals, (those creatures we so arrogantly put below us) and realized that most of them I came in contact with had many of the same feeling as I have, fear, grief, contentment, happiness and most important affection. I must admit I was surprised. The more closely I got to particular animals; one was Jill, a female mongrel dog. She and I suffered greatly when her son Jackie and my dear friend lost his life under the wheels of an old pickup truck. I buried Jackie in the orchard under and an old apple tree and for days Jill laid there grieving. The ordeal took a dreadful toll on her and she passed away a few months later.
If given the opportunity most animals will respond to kindness, especially if they have no reason to fear you in the first place. A new born calf will quickly respond to kindness and become a faithful friend, relishing a human’s touch and gentle care. Most cattle will come when called if the their human master has never abused them, even though somewhere down the road they will be shipped to the slaughter house for food. Trust, respect and dignity goes a long way to ensure a good life for these creatures, grazing contentedly in their pastures, giving of their milk and new born calves. However it takes someone who does not mind that day when off they go to the market.
My first encounter with a particular cow came about one day when I was very young. Father bought her to provide milk for the family while he remained in Kansas City during World War Two. He name was Peggy, of Jersey heritage and was old for a cow, but gentle and trusting as she could be. She had given birth to a calf about two months before she came to live with us, but her offspring did not accompany her to our farm. She provided rich creamy milk to drink and cream for butter. She always stood quietly while being milked, munching on ground corn and oats and in the winter months given a generous helping of wet meadow hay.
One morning in the second spring of our arrival at the farm, Peggy was not at the barn and I was told to go find her and bring her in. I was hampered a bit by a badly bruised big toe and I grumbled about having to walk on it, but of course obeyed and went looking for the old cow. I found her a short distance from the house, grazing near a spring where sweet grass was growing. She looked up as if to say, “Oh my, I didn’t realize it was so late,” and she immediately started toward the barn.
I painfully caught with up her and gently scolded the cow and she stopped. We started out again with me limping along and then the idea occurred to me to ride her to the barn. Again she stopped and I climbed on her back and she looked around, shook her head and began walking calmly toward the barn. Upon arrival at the barn door I slid off quite pleased, only to confront Mother who loudly scolded me for riding the cow. That ended my riding Peggy and rightly so, for after all she was old. Unbeknownst to Mother I gave Peggy a generous helping of feed that morning.
Later that spring Father came home, for the war had ended and he made plans to buy more milk cattle. One evening when my twin brother and I returned home from school, I quickly discovered Peggy was nowhere to be found and I asked where she had gone and I was told she had been sold to the slaughter house, for she was no longer needed. The removal of Peggy from her home was my first reality experience as a boy. I was horrified to say the least. More to come. Adios
One of the first concerns of my brand new life many years ago as a child was the apparent fear animals had of humans. But since I was born on a farm and times were very hard, I did not dwell on the subject too long at a time. The cattle, hogs, chickens and horses were an important part of the farm and used appropriately either for food, income or worked. The horses were worked extremely hard at times and when one could not do its share, it was sold to the dog food place as we called it. Life was hard to say the least.
I learned early in life, but like a lot of people did not always pay much attention to the senseless cruelty of animals, whether domesticated or wild. Chickens were used for food, as is the lowly field mouse to the Red Tail Hawk that is a fact of life. The food chain is long and unforgiving in all species of life and cannot nor should not be disrupted in most instances. This aspect of reality is not an issue with me. It is a natural occurrence from the minutest creature to the largest and a vital aspect of nature.
As a boy I quickly discovered the remarkable intelligence of animals, (those creatures we so arrogantly put below us) and realized that most of them I came in contact with had many of the same feeling as I have, fear, grief, contentment, happiness and most important affection. I must admit I was surprised. The more closely I got to particular animals; one was Jill, a female mongrel dog. She and I suffered greatly when her son Jackie and my dear friend lost his life under the wheels of an old pickup truck. I buried Jackie in the orchard under and an old apple tree and for days Jill laid there grieving. The ordeal took a dreadful toll on her and she passed away a few months later.
If given the opportunity most animals will respond to kindness, especially if they have no reason to fear you in the first place. A new born calf will quickly respond to kindness and become a faithful friend, relishing a human’s touch and gentle care. Most cattle will come when called if the their human master has never abused them, even though somewhere down the road they will be shipped to the slaughter house for food. Trust, respect and dignity goes a long way to ensure a good life for these creatures, grazing contentedly in their pastures, giving of their milk and new born calves. However it takes someone who does not mind that day when off they go to the market.
My first encounter with a particular cow came about one day when I was very young. Father bought her to provide milk for the family while he remained in Kansas City during World War Two. He name was Peggy, of Jersey heritage and was old for a cow, but gentle and trusting as she could be. She had given birth to a calf about two months before she came to live with us, but her offspring did not accompany her to our farm. She provided rich creamy milk to drink and cream for butter. She always stood quietly while being milked, munching on ground corn and oats and in the winter months given a generous helping of wet meadow hay.
One morning in the second spring of our arrival at the farm, Peggy was not at the barn and I was told to go find her and bring her in. I was hampered a bit by a badly bruised big toe and I grumbled about having to walk on it, but of course obeyed and went looking for the old cow. I found her a short distance from the house, grazing near a spring where sweet grass was growing. She looked up as if to say, “Oh my, I didn’t realize it was so late,” and she immediately started toward the barn.
I painfully caught with up her and gently scolded the cow and she stopped. We started out again with me limping along and then the idea occurred to me to ride her to the barn. Again she stopped and I climbed on her back and she looked around, shook her head and began walking calmly toward the barn. Upon arrival at the barn door I slid off quite pleased, only to confront Mother who loudly scolded me for riding the cow. That ended my riding Peggy and rightly so, for after all she was old. Unbeknownst to Mother I gave Peggy a generous helping of feed that morning.
Later that spring Father came home, for the war had ended and he made plans to buy more milk cattle. One evening when my twin brother and I returned home from school, I quickly discovered Peggy was nowhere to be found and I asked where she had gone and I was told she had been sold to the slaughter house, for she was no longer needed. The removal of Peggy from her home was my first reality experience as a boy. I was horrified to say the least. More to come. Adios
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