While my children were growing, all of my family increased; wives, children and animals. We often housed many people, and more than a few families stayed with us, for weeks at a time. Sometimes brothers or relatives with growing families came up to build fences, pour a reservoir or build another home and a huge building for the family company. After coming home from California where my husband attended dental school, we found some cheap properties.

We had an old barn with cows, horses, chickens and rabbits; also I occasionally found a goat or lamb to bring home. The kids enjoyed bottle feeding them, but when it came time to eat them, they did not enjoy it so much. Of course we always had cats and dogs. I have always been sad that I never owned a baby pig.

We owned other property's and everyone participated in "Bucking Hay."
There were times that we were in the field bucking hay at midnight because rain was coming, and to save the hay it had to be done immediately.

I often needed to feed a calf that would not suck from it's mom, with a bottle, the bottle being much larger than human baby bottles. Fortunately cows are not born with teeth, so the worst damage was a crazy roll in cow shit, the funny thing is that when a calf licks your face, it feels like sandpaper.
When working with a colt it was a different story, they are born with teeth, an affectionate nibble on your ear while working with them can hurt. What hurts more is if you accidentally get kicked in the jaw.
Sometimes our bull escaped in the night, all family that were big enough went out looking, we discovered a bull roar sounded like a bear, especially in the dark, I swear my hair stood on end.

One of our little daughters learned where babies came from by watching from the hayloft while a cow gave birth. Of course it was no secret as we birthed horses, cows, cats and dogs, let alone the mice and rabbits that seemed more capable of reproducing than we wanted.
I loved going out in the cold mornings and seeing the cats,sleeping on the cows for warmth.

Because we came from farming families, with my dad often hunting for venison, it was not unusual to see a cow, or deer hanging in the garage ready for a family meat processing day, we also processed our own chickens.

During one year, we had perhaps three weeks we were not housing and cooking for approximately fifty people, with sometimes ten children under 10 years old. We did not have disposable diapers, so often I was changing four babies, then going into the kitchen to cook, it seemed that I was constantly scrubbing my hands, the smell seemed to be stuck in my head.

I loved it when we splurged and purchased food already prepared, home-made meant I was home making it. I learned how to make cheese, although when the boys milked the cows I sometimes wondered if milk was green not white. We ground our own wheat, for bread, grew gardens and bottled fruit and vegetables. When we put up a large green house we were very proud until our boys drove the tractor through it.

Horses were a pleasure and one of my favorite ways of escaping the crazy home occasionally. Although many mornings I found myself chasing horses that had escaped down the road before taking kids to school, in these days I was dressed in a long dress (it is so much easier to chase something wearing pants, me not the animal.)

We owned two horses, and at one time a Shetland pony; this one was barn sour and no matter where the rider was headed, always ended back at the barn, quicker than anyone thought possible.
Dipsy was a medium size horse and a complete pleasure to ride, I preferred to have just the two of us on our rides, no one else dictated where we went or how fast. I carried an apple in my pocket, while sitting on Dipsy atop the hill over the city, I would pull the apple out taking a bite; instantly her head would jerk around and she refused to move until I gave her the apple. When we arrived back at the barn, after I removed her saddle, she gave me very little time, before hitting me in the side with her head, reminding me she needed another treat.
Dolly was a little higher strung, and had a problem getting spooked and being unpredictable. As a friend she was great but I was cautioned about riding her.

While my boys were about 11 or 12 we had a young relative come to live with us, his name was Carl and he was homeless. He decided that Dolly should be his horse, he rode her a lot and I think he was the least trained of the boy or horse.
One ride on Dolly ended in her running over the kids pet sheep, breaking the sheep's leg, the kids were so attached to the sheep named "Mary Ann," that their father decided to see if he could save her, he bound and fixed the leg; we ate her a couple years later.

Gradually as I became more confident about riding I decided to ride Dolly, she knew me and as with all animals loved me. Carl was unhappy about me riding her, but offered to saddle her up for me. I thanked him; going out after he was done and mounted her, as my weight hit the saddle she immediately shot up into the air coming down on her side rolling me off, then standing by my head nuzzling me to see if I was alright, I reassured her and climbed back into the saddle, instantly she again shot up landing and rolling on me, then standing by me she was shaking a lot. By then I was badly bruised and worried about her, I hobbled to the house to find Carl standing by the window watching. He kindly offered to unsaddle Dolly for me and went to the barn where he fiddled with her saddle and then rode her.

I was in a lot of pain and it took me awhile before I realized Carl had sabotaged dolly and I. Earlier when I attempted to have Carl teach me about riding he had purposely given me opposite moves to direct the horse. I realized he most likely put something under Dolly's saddle causing her pain so she jumped straight up. Dolly's normal reaction was to run jumping the fence and avoiding capture.

It was not too long before Carl left moving into another family of his choice. He was extremely smart and talented, he played the piano beautifully. He had developed a technique of grooming a family, with charm and favors until he came to the point where the family he lived with realized he was dishonest and cruel, then he would announce he was leaving. I more than once had to collect him from a store where he shoplifted, this seemed to be something he did for the challenge because he had money in his pocket.

Looking back I sometimes wonder how we changed from farmers to Doctors, nurses and dentists along with many other professional titles.
I often felt that although my (now X) husband became a Dentist he would always be a "damn" farmer at heart. Not to insult farmers!