Stepping In It

     Everyone knows where there are cows there is manure, and lots of it.  But did you know that when farmers scrape out the barns they sometimes pile the manure into mounds that dry out, harden and look just like a small hill of dirt; especially when piled against the end of a barn?   Well, let me assure you that as a 19 year old new bride I did not know this.  Thus, resulted the most embarrassing time of my life...still to date.

     As I mentioned, I was a brand new bride and knew absolutely nothing about dairy farming; but, good little wife that I was, I was eager to learn and to help out in any way that I could.  Wanting to impress my new husband and make things easier for him, I would volunteer to round up the cows and bring them in for milking while he was still working in the field.   Easy enough.  I just put on my boots and walked down over the hill on a beautiful day, often picking wildflowers along the way.  When I reached the cows I just had to call them a couple of times and they pretty much herded themselves back to the barn.   I was getting sunshine and exercise while helping out...what could be better!

     Then came "that" day.  That one day that someone left the gate open and before I could get to it one of the cows got out.    Closing the gate behind me, I went after her.  I don't know if you have ever tried to herd a cow that has escaped or not, but I guarantee you that once they get out they have no intention of going back in.  I chased that cow all over the yard trying to keep her from getting in the road.    Kenneth was still in the field and there was no one in sight to help.  I knew I was on my own; just me and Bessie, and at this point, Bessie was winning.  

     Shooing her toward the other end of the barn, I opened the door to the waiting stall and decided I would guide her that direction.  She had other ideas!   Heading toward the tobacco barn, she ran straight toward the big dirt mound at the lower end of it...or so I thought.    First step I took my boots sunk clear to my knees.   The more I tried to move the deeper I sunk.  My boots were completely buried and I was stuck tighter than glue on a stamp.   No matter what I did I couldn't move.  What was I going to do?  I did what any red blooded 19 year old girl would do - I started crying and screaming.   All the while, Bessie was standing in the corner and I'm sure she had a smirk on her face.

     I don't have any idea how long I stood there screaming and crying; it seemed like an eternity.  Finally, just as Kenneth pulled in on the tractor, here came his parents running across the road from their house.  They had heard me screaming in the house.  All three got there about the same time and after their initial shock and assurance that I wasn't hurt, do you think I got any sympathy?  Of course not!  I thought they would all roll on the ground laughing so hard.   If I could have moved I would have slapped all three of them!   

     When Kenneth was finally able to stop laughing, he pulled me out, minus my boots (which I never wore again!).   Needless to say, I had learned the difference between a dirt pile and a pile of manure and they had a funny story to tell, at my expense. 

Until next time...that's my view.
Kat