A humorous look at life back on the farm.
Our dear Uncle Art and my dad, Howard, became convinced that it was never too wet or foul weather to go fencing. For the grandkids, this doesn’t mean the skilled sport of fencing with chalk tipped sword.
No indeed, this was put the buckets of fence staples, extra barbed wire, metal and wood posts into the pickup and head out into the very wet woods and swamp. It seems that our wayward cows and heifers found the exact spot where the barbed wire or electric fence was done in order to get into a neighboring field or road. This spot was usually at the far end of a stretch or way into a wet swamp, complete with skeeters and deerflys, etc.
The idea was to find and repair the broken area of fence and chase the cows/heifers back into our land. I’m not sure how to describe the effort of pulling a line taught, pound in new staples into a wobbly very hard oak fence post or put new clips on a steel post, when all of the above is stuck in gooey swamp, partially submerged, or completely gone, all while the heifers had a wet snotty nose in the bucket or your jacket pocket, or leaning against you for attention.
Some might call it the ‘good ol’ days’, but, um, hmmm, it was time well spent so that during good hot days we could accomplish other, more rewarding work. Great training for the Christian responsibility of not blowing up in anger when the conditions were less than tolerable and getting a job done under adverse conditions without clubbing your fellow worker with the wet post that was just dropped in the mud, again.