You would think a farm kid would have observed the facts of life at a pretty early age, what with being surrounded by farm animals. My dad however, took extreme measures to ensure the daughters of the family were in no way subjected to anything he didn't want us to see. For instance, every season a bull would be hauled by truck and trailer across the farm yard and out to the fenced area behind the barn. I would always see the creature coming and going, but never actually knew what he was doing because I was ALWAYS shooed away. I was to be absolutely nowhere in the vicinity of the barn while the bull was there and that was final. I was told of the dangers of the bull and heard many stories about how viscious the animal could be. I had a great respect for the bull and still do to this day. My brothers could go and watch the whole operation, but NEVER me. I know, you should never say always or never, but those were the facts. When I asked dad why he brought the bull around, his answer was the same EVERY time, "to keep the cows company". Then he would smile or laugh and I got so I felt like punching him, just for saying it because I knew there was more to the story.
By the time I was 12 years old, I was in the Hudson Bay Union Hospital for a two week stint because of bronchitis. My friend and neighbour, Donnie Foster was also in for the very same thing. Another little bit older friend in the next room was Terry Grant. He was a town kid who was recovering from some kind of operation. His dad was the elevator agent and a friend of my dad's. We were all three enjoying our stay, well, sort of..or as much as you can enjoy being in the hospital. Donnie will remember how he and I would compare how much phlegm we had accumulated in our spitoons on a daily basis. Gross, but true.
One afternoon, I slipped through the adjoining bathroom to Terry's room and we started having a game of cards. We played for quite awhile before the nurses found out and they were not impressed. They made me promise to never go to his room again. Apparently, we were in for different reasons and mixing those reasons up weren't good....Now that I'm a nurse myself, I realize it was especially not good for Terry, he had a wound and I had the germs. When you're bored, card playing sure helped pass the time. I still love those adjoining bathrooms with the cute little inside locks. About four years later, I became a candy striper at that same hospital and learned even more about those bathrooms and how the whole bedpan idea worked.
My favorite thing about the hospital was that if you rang the bell, somebody would come running. That was a sweet gig for quite awhile, however, they soon got tired of it when one afternoon all hell broke loose when a lady showed up to have a baby. I had rung for somebody to get me some more kleenex. The nurse showed up in a huff, a little later than usual, and I was told in no uncertain terms that they were far too busy for me to be ringing for such insignificant things. That cured me.
My favorite treat was this fantastic toast and juice every night as an evening snack. I almost never got juice on the farm, mostly fresh fruit, so it was such a treat and good for a cough. Visiting hours were over by 8:00 p.m., and one Sunday night, some of us got to sit in the TV room and watch Bonanza which was over at 9:00 p.m. I think one of the nursing staff, Agnes Lewellin probably felt sorry for us and let us stay up. She was from the Etomami area, the same as Donnie and I.
There was a married lady who was also a patient and watching Bonanza too. I thought I might as well ask her the same question I always asked dad. Why do we need to get the bull? It seemed to have stuck in my brain like a broken record. Neither Donnie, Terry nor the nurses seemed to know the answer...,either that or they were avoiding me. She looked at me confused for a minute and then smiled. She asked what my parents had told me. I said it out loud...."to keep the cows company". She laughed and I blushed. Imagine being 12 years old and still being left in the dark about this most important thing! This lady did not in any way make me feel bad though. She treated me like I was the most important person in the world and that what she was about to tell me was equally important. She explained that the bull is brought to a farmyard to service the cows so they get pregnant and have little baby calves. I smiled and thanked her. I never felt more grown up in my whole life. The next chance I had to have a conversation with my dad, I told him what I had learned from this woman and he burst out laughing. Big joke dad! I punched him. I can still remember him laughing and teasing me by saying, "bad, old dad.....bad, old dad." He was such a teaser.
By the time I was 16, I had asked to witness the birth of one of the newborn calves. No way. I always got shooed away. I was getting frustrated. Never allowed to see when the bull comes to visit. Never allowed to watch a calf being born. One day, one of my brothers let it slip that one of the pigs was about to give birth to piglets that very day. The sow was in a separate pen out in the old, low-roofed pig house. It was made of logs, that's how old the building was. It was broad daylight. Dad was out in the field on the tractor. I seized the moment and went and asked mom if she thought it was a good idea for me to go watch the piglets being born and she said, "why not?" She obviously could have cared less. So out I went and watched that sow's every muscle twitch.
I stood there by the hour, knowing that pig houses have rats in them. I kept watch for anything that might move, but really there wasn't much. Finally, as the day wore on, the air became oppressive, I was past feeling sick from the smell of the pig barn and now smelled like it myself. I itched. The flies were driving me crazy and I was ready to leave. Suddenly, the sow started to give birth. Out so utterly slowly came the first part of the first pig. It looked so white and waxen, I couldn't believe it. When it plopped out onto the floor, it just lay there stiff and still. Out plopped another and another and another until there were six waxen, white piglets all laying on the straw of the wooden floor. They didn't move. They didn't make a sound. I waited for many minutes, but lo and behold they were ALL born dead. I was horrified. I know that sows will sometimes eat their young, especially if there's something wrong. The sow started to move around and make some noises like pigs do. I imagined her starting to chow down on her offspring and ran out of there like I was being chased by a banshee! There was no way in the world I wanted to see that. I ran to mom and told her...she was incredulous as was everyone else.. To this day, I don't know what happened to those piglets.
That experience cured me from wanting to see a real live birth for quite some time. I am happy to say that once I left home and before mom and dad sold the farm, dad let me watch one of the cows give birth to a calf. It was only because my brothers were there to egg him on, I'm sure. Even they felt sorry for me because I was about 18 by now.
By the time the cow's labor had progressed, I felt so much sorrier for the cow than I did for myself at not having seen a birth. Rightly so, as I was to find out myself in a few years. Don't let anybody tell you that animals don't experience pain, because you could see it written all over that poor cow's face and body. Her huge brown eyes were glazed over and she was dripping in sweat. Her body would heave and be wracked with painful contractions and she made a sad noise with each. I prayed it would be over soon and sure enough, the first thing that poked out was one solitary light colored hoof.That's what sticks in my mind. The body made it's way out bit by bit and then all of sudden in one last whooshing gush, the whole calf was born. He fell to the floor and then kept trying to get up little by little, until finally, he stood up all by himself, really wobbly-like. He wasn't even taught how, he just knew what to do instinctively. I was amazed. He wobbled his way over to his mother and knew enough to start suckling. Unbelievable. He head bunted her a couple times and she started licking him to clean him up.What a champ! What a team! Later, when the cow turned around and started eating her own afterbirth, I knew that was enough for me. The dog by this time was hanging around seeing what morsels she could get and I decided to leave.
Incidentally, even after all these decades, I still have never witnessed a bull at work in the cow paddock. I guess I lost track of that somewhere along the line.
By the time I was 12 years old, I was in the Hudson Bay Union Hospital for a two week stint because of bronchitis. My friend and neighbour, Donnie Foster was also in for the very same thing. Another little bit older friend in the next room was Terry Grant. He was a town kid who was recovering from some kind of operation. His dad was the elevator agent and a friend of my dad's. We were all three enjoying our stay, well, sort of..or as much as you can enjoy being in the hospital. Donnie will remember how he and I would compare how much phlegm we had accumulated in our spitoons on a daily basis. Gross, but true.
One afternoon, I slipped through the adjoining bathroom to Terry's room and we started having a game of cards. We played for quite awhile before the nurses found out and they were not impressed. They made me promise to never go to his room again. Apparently, we were in for different reasons and mixing those reasons up weren't good....Now that I'm a nurse myself, I realize it was especially not good for Terry, he had a wound and I had the germs. When you're bored, card playing sure helped pass the time. I still love those adjoining bathrooms with the cute little inside locks. About four years later, I became a candy striper at that same hospital and learned even more about those bathrooms and how the whole bedpan idea worked.
My favorite thing about the hospital was that if you rang the bell, somebody would come running. That was a sweet gig for quite awhile, however, they soon got tired of it when one afternoon all hell broke loose when a lady showed up to have a baby. I had rung for somebody to get me some more kleenex. The nurse showed up in a huff, a little later than usual, and I was told in no uncertain terms that they were far too busy for me to be ringing for such insignificant things. That cured me.
My favorite treat was this fantastic toast and juice every night as an evening snack. I almost never got juice on the farm, mostly fresh fruit, so it was such a treat and good for a cough. Visiting hours were over by 8:00 p.m., and one Sunday night, some of us got to sit in the TV room and watch Bonanza which was over at 9:00 p.m. I think one of the nursing staff, Agnes Lewellin probably felt sorry for us and let us stay up. She was from the Etomami area, the same as Donnie and I.
There was a married lady who was also a patient and watching Bonanza too. I thought I might as well ask her the same question I always asked dad. Why do we need to get the bull? It seemed to have stuck in my brain like a broken record. Neither Donnie, Terry nor the nurses seemed to know the answer...,either that or they were avoiding me. She looked at me confused for a minute and then smiled. She asked what my parents had told me. I said it out loud...."to keep the cows company". She laughed and I blushed. Imagine being 12 years old and still being left in the dark about this most important thing! This lady did not in any way make me feel bad though. She treated me like I was the most important person in the world and that what she was about to tell me was equally important. She explained that the bull is brought to a farmyard to service the cows so they get pregnant and have little baby calves. I smiled and thanked her. I never felt more grown up in my whole life. The next chance I had to have a conversation with my dad, I told him what I had learned from this woman and he burst out laughing. Big joke dad! I punched him. I can still remember him laughing and teasing me by saying, "bad, old dad.....bad, old dad." He was such a teaser.
By the time I was 16, I had asked to witness the birth of one of the newborn calves. No way. I always got shooed away. I was getting frustrated. Never allowed to see when the bull comes to visit. Never allowed to watch a calf being born. One day, one of my brothers let it slip that one of the pigs was about to give birth to piglets that very day. The sow was in a separate pen out in the old, low-roofed pig house. It was made of logs, that's how old the building was. It was broad daylight. Dad was out in the field on the tractor. I seized the moment and went and asked mom if she thought it was a good idea for me to go watch the piglets being born and she said, "why not?" She obviously could have cared less. So out I went and watched that sow's every muscle twitch.
I stood there by the hour, knowing that pig houses have rats in them. I kept watch for anything that might move, but really there wasn't much. Finally, as the day wore on, the air became oppressive, I was past feeling sick from the smell of the pig barn and now smelled like it myself. I itched. The flies were driving me crazy and I was ready to leave. Suddenly, the sow started to give birth. Out so utterly slowly came the first part of the first pig. It looked so white and waxen, I couldn't believe it. When it plopped out onto the floor, it just lay there stiff and still. Out plopped another and another and another until there were six waxen, white piglets all laying on the straw of the wooden floor. They didn't move. They didn't make a sound. I waited for many minutes, but lo and behold they were ALL born dead. I was horrified. I know that sows will sometimes eat their young, especially if there's something wrong. The sow started to move around and make some noises like pigs do. I imagined her starting to chow down on her offspring and ran out of there like I was being chased by a banshee! There was no way in the world I wanted to see that. I ran to mom and told her...she was incredulous as was everyone else.. To this day, I don't know what happened to those piglets.
That experience cured me from wanting to see a real live birth for quite some time. I am happy to say that once I left home and before mom and dad sold the farm, dad let me watch one of the cows give birth to a calf. It was only because my brothers were there to egg him on, I'm sure. Even they felt sorry for me because I was about 18 by now.
By the time the cow's labor had progressed, I felt so much sorrier for the cow than I did for myself at not having seen a birth. Rightly so, as I was to find out myself in a few years. Don't let anybody tell you that animals don't experience pain, because you could see it written all over that poor cow's face and body. Her huge brown eyes were glazed over and she was dripping in sweat. Her body would heave and be wracked with painful contractions and she made a sad noise with each. I prayed it would be over soon and sure enough, the first thing that poked out was one solitary light colored hoof.That's what sticks in my mind. The body made it's way out bit by bit and then all of sudden in one last whooshing gush, the whole calf was born. He fell to the floor and then kept trying to get up little by little, until finally, he stood up all by himself, really wobbly-like. He wasn't even taught how, he just knew what to do instinctively. I was amazed. He wobbled his way over to his mother and knew enough to start suckling. Unbelievable. He head bunted her a couple times and she started licking him to clean him up.What a champ! What a team! Later, when the cow turned around and started eating her own afterbirth, I knew that was enough for me. The dog by this time was hanging around seeing what morsels she could get and I decided to leave.
Incidentally, even after all these decades, I still have never witnessed a bull at work in the cow paddock. I guess I lost track of that somewhere along the line.
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