Sheriff Without a Gun

This is a touching story from Doug.  I think we can all appreciate his sentiments.

“Sheriff Without a Gun”

              In “The Andy Griffith” show Sheriff Andy Taylor refuses to carry a gun. Many find this so odd and so outrageous that a Sheriff would not carry a gun that they; print newspaper articles about it, make TV shows about it and a movie about it. Andy Taylor is a man you can trust. He is a friend to everybody. And he will always do the right thing and never let you down. Andy Taylor does not need a gun, he is respected.

              Having been raised on a Dairy I was taught that when you die there are four Kingdoms of Glory. I would imagine that most are familiar with these but for those who weren't aware of the fourth let me just say that it is a special place prepared for the Dairymen. Where God having realized the hardships associated with dairy cows allows a few more things to slide. Most common among these is swearing. Now it is just impossible to work with an animal as stubborn as a milk cow and not cuss just a little bit, or so Dairy Lore would have you believe. Even more incredible to me than a "Sheriff without a gun" is a dairyman who will not swear. Earlier on it came to my attention that Uncle Ross did not swear. I had my doubts as to whether or not that was even possible for a dairyman so I began to pay close attention.  Ross has never let me down. As I saw his example I thought to myself, if he can do it then I can do it. Turns out as colorful as a milk parlor can be some nights, construction job sites can be much worse. And when I am in those situations, still, I think of Ross.

              This may seem like a very small and insignificant thing to some of you, but for me it is huge it has allowed me to have a much greater degree of self-respect and to think that at least in one thing no matter the situation you can count on me to do the right thing.

               I have often thought, “Wouldn't it be nice to raise my kids in Mayberry.” As I have pondered on this I have realized that I can. I just have to surround my kids with people like Uncle Ross who, like Andy Taylor, is a man you can trust. A friend to everyone. And who no matter what will always do the right thing and never let you down.

“The Dairyman Who won’t Swear”

Thank You Uncle Ross

The Juniper Shelter

From Jerica:

At the Cassia County fair,  Juel told me it was my turn to write in the blog. I know it was a couple weeks ago but life has been...well, life. 

At my family reunion a few weeks ago, we were talking about how my older 4 siblings got to do a lot and the younger 4 got the shaft of "life". We never went on vacation, had swimming lessons, and many more. My dad kept saying stuff like "how horrible of parents" they were. It got me thinking about everything they did do for us. Sure we did the majority of stuff on the dairy or down at the flat but i learned a lot that other kids didn't learn. After living in a city since 18 yrs old i was able to see how different "city-folk" are. 

I recently got a job in Twin Falls and I am now outside of the Mormon bubble. I didn't know how much of a culture shock just moving to Twin is. I hear the stories and life styles my coworkers have chosen and I can't help but be happy for the examples my parents have shown. I have made some mistakes in my life but not as serious as those of my coworkers and I know I couldn't have the life I do now without the hard work and example of my parents. I have chosen what I did in my life for myself. Growing up in Juniper has built a huge shelter over my head but I wouldn't be who I am without my childhood/teenage years taking place in Juniper or without the parents I have. 

I keep thinking about those general conference Sundays when the kids would go outside and play soccer with two of us in tutus or playing softball by the grain shed or even those hot summer days filling up the "swimming pool" and freezing because the water was so cold but we swam anyway because we have tough skin. 

Being head butted, kicked, stepped on, etc has molded us to who we are. I don't know about you or anyone else but I take pride in who I am, who my parents are,  and where I grew up. 

Building Haystacks

Sorry it has been a while since the last story... you know how Summers go.  Here are some great memories from Crystal.  I can relate on all counts.  Especially the part about Uncle Ross... he was some kind of mind wizard with those bales... it was rare, but I remember getting him good once with Dad... I can still hear the  "hohhh... boy" as he attempted to lift the greenest of green bales... followed by laughter all around, including from Ross himself.  I also echo her thanks.  

Good times!

From Crystal:

I got to buck bales this week at work!  Okay, so the bales were something like 20"x10"x10" and covered in plastic wrap, but still.  We got about 50 of these little straw bales in this week in preparation for fall, they came with an assortment of scarecrows.  As I was throwing these bales off our conveyer belt as fast as I could ...stacking them with proper farm technique mind you, I couldn't help but be taken back to all those days on top of the stack having bales sent up the elevator at us as fast as the people below could send them.  The girls down stairs kept trying to turn off the belt cause they thought I had more than I could handle, but that farm pride had kicked in and I let them know that those things could come up as fast as they could send them.
 
It made me stop and think about everything I do.  I think everything I do I'm still just building haystacks.  I work with the same competitive speed I learned from competing with Douglas and trying to live up to Jami's reputation.  I maintain the same pride I had in trying to make sure my part of the stack was not the one weaving and lopsided.  I know I didn't always succeed in this, but I also learned in the act of building haystacks how to maintain a positive expression no matter how hot and tired I was.  I learned to enjoy my work and how to have fun when I worked.  Ross had an incredible ability to make light bales look heavy and heavy ones look much lighter.  This was horrible on the back, but good for the spirit.  I couldn't help but laugh every time I about threw a hay bale over my head or didn't even manage to move it in my first attempt because I had unconsciously judged it's weight based on the way Ross had given it to me.  I leaned that to sit down is the kiss of death, it is much harder to get going again after you have rested.   

I maintain pride in knowing I can do hard things and receive the same satisfaction when I look over my work.  There is no better feeling in the world then looking over a well completed haystack and knowing all the work you put into it.
 
Thanks to all who taught me how to build haystacks.

Forts

I love, Love, LOVE this one from Crystal.  Forts were a big part of growing up Juniper style.  Where else would kids be allowed to exercise such creativity?

From Crystal:

I think we should give mention to the many clubs and clubhouses/forts that accounted for so many of our days.  I particularly remember being a small child and being excluded from the “big” kid’s club house.  Where if I remember right Jami was queen and Aaron was king ….dang they were cool. 

But I do believe that when we became the “big” kids (Doug, Brad, Laura, Jerica, Myself and occasionally the younger boys Jason, Forest and Levi) is when the real fort building took place.  The “old house” or old church farm grain bin was really a carpentry experience training facility.  We were not shy about stealing old slabs of wood and less old buckets of nails and hammers to turn our “old house” into a three story mansion.  

Of course accomplishing this feat did not come without some painful learning experiences.  For example: If you slip while standing on the bar which stretches across the rooms (the only way to reach the third floor area with your hammer) you should make sure to gracefully fall in front of or behind said bar and not take it up the center.  

When building a swing use enough twine.  

When building a floor use enough support boards and nails.

The best feature of our fort was the trampoline swing.  We found the frame of an old one man jumper; you know the kind the little trampolines that are about two feet wide and 8 in off the ground.  The frame had only two legs remaining.  Simply by hanging the legs on the bar that ran through the center of the house we had the best swing man has ever built (we just had to remember not to swing to high or the entire thing would jump of the bars….which happened many a time).  

Second best feature was probably the toilet in the corner …don’t know what that was ….Doug?

Does anyone have a picture of the “old house?”  Remember the lean on that thing?  …haha, and yet we had no qualms about standing on the roof.

The “old house” was not our only fort, just the most popular.  We also had “the valley,” and old pig pen …the one where we lost the hammers and made Dad and Ross not too happy, we had forts in the mountains and forts in the straw stacks (remember picking buckets of carrots, who knew that 10 gallons of carrots was not a feasible lunch for 5 kids).   

P.S.  If any of you do have a pic of said house send it my way and we will get it attached to this post.  jami_c_hurst@hotmail.com

Blessed to be his Daughter

From Jerica:

About two winters ago, I decided I would help out on the dairy by learning how to milk the cows and help with the morning milking. At first I thought it was a great idea, because I would be helping my dad and thought he might have wanted the help. I got a week into it and I was starting to regret it but I stuck with it. When spring came around I would have to get up and chase the cows down the hill behind the house to get them into the barn. I will admit, I was probably the worst cow milker that dairy has ever seen, but it helped me appreciate what my dad (and every other dairyman) did for my family. I knew he sacrificed a lot for us, but by having the experience of milking the cows opened my eyes to what a strong, hard working man he is. I do love my dad for all that he has done for me and my family. His hard work did not go unnoticed. I have been truly blessed to be his daughter.

Real Life Tonka Trucks

From Jerica:

Forrest, Doug, Brad, and I were riding our bikes down the road toward Rushton's farm. It was right after Forrest got his bike and it still had the training wheels on it. We were going around the corner by the tree just down the road from the dairy and when we got about half way between the corner and Rushton's farm a huge mine crawler thing came around Rushton's corner. It was taking up the whole road. Doug, Brad, and I all saw the thing coming but Forrest was nonchalantly riding his bike down the middle of the road. After much yelling, he saw it coming, hopped off his bike and ran him and his bike to the borrow pit. I never did know why he didn't just ride it to the side of the road. Not a very good story, but it's one I came up with.

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Thanks Jer!

Those things are massive!  I remember Dad telling me the only thing you go off the road for in a loaded hay truck is an airplane.  However, when we came across a semi hauling one of these giants, we managed to get our loaded truck off the road rather quickly!  I also remember Ross asking the crew in said truck if we could use their monster Tonka truck to haul the rest of our hay.  The fellows said they would be happy to haul our hay if we could load the truck... needless to say, we spent the rest of the summer hauling hay the usual way!  

Did You Hear the Joke About the Skunk?

Never mind, it stinks...

                           Ross


From Kammy:

One night the kids and I returned home after dark from a trip to town.  Levi was in charge of the chickens and I pulled into the lower lot so my car lights would shine towards the coop; giving him enough light to feed them and gather the eggs.   He opened the door and entered; when he exited a few seconds later he had a stunned look on his face.   I guess three skunks in a 5’ by 5’ coop rattles you just a little bit.  Well, as most of you probably know chickens and skunks do not cohabitate in a friendly manner.   This would usually be where Juel stepped up to the plate, but he was in Malta taking care of some church responsibilities.   With no husband and no gun, I turned to Ross, he graciously grabbed his 22 and came to our aid.

Ross headed to the coop to check things out, Levi as his assistant.  I bravely held the gun at the far end of the coop.  Ross popped back out to get the gun, confirming Levi’s report of three skunks.  Levi stayed at his post, albeit with lots of disgusting noises.   Returning, Ross took position and shot the first intruder.  Levi was carrying on rather loudly about the situation and the skunk.   From my well- ventilated corner,  I was trying to talk him down and said something to the effect of, “Levi, calm down, it’s not that bad!”  Ross came walking out and looked at me with tears running down his face and said, “OH, YES IT IS!”  

I can’t remember how the rest of the culprits where dealt with, seems like maybe Ross took out one more and the third dirty little cheese ball escaped,  but the images and sounds of that moment are branded on my memory.   Taking into account the situation, I managed not to laugh that night, but every time I relate the incident and my memory pulls up the image of Ross’s face and the pitch of his wretched rejoinder, the laughter can’t be contained.     

 Anyway, with the skunks gone the surviving chickens (No, not me, the feathered ones) and the mighty hunters could call it and night and go to bed. . .well, maybe after a shower!

 P.S.  Thanks Ross for coming to our rescue on this and other occasions, and for supporting Juel in his callings.

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Surely a good skunk story brings a memory to your mind... send it my way!  jami_c_hurst@hotmail.com

The True Crop

If this was a sponsored blog, today's post would be sponsored by Kleenex.  Doug has always been a very gifted writer, I think most of you will identify with his perfectly worded sentiments.  We each owe a great deal to Juniper Dairy and the men who's spirits embodied it.  Grab a tissue and enjoy!

From Douglas:

I have been slow and even hesitant to post on this blog, not because I have nothing to say but because the farm has meant so much to me. Juniper dairy has always been more than just another farm I believe it is so special because of the two great men that ran it. Some might say that the farm failed, but I wonder, has there ever been a more successful farm? I believe that milk was a byproduct and that you and I were the true crop.

So I would like to share with you a few things that I learned on the farm from two great men and how they still help me.

Broken things.

If you are like me then I am sure that you have at one point or another complained about the broken things on the farm or the equipment that no longer works quite right. I have since learned to be grateful for those broken things because they represent fathers and bosses who were willing to let me work and learn.

Above is a picture of a very familiar auger on the farm. (It is not the latest model but no auger has ever looked so good) What many of you do not realize and don’t see is that the fly wheel on the top has been snapped in half.

It was early one summer morning and I was out doing the morning chores. One of my assignments that morning was to move the auger from one grain bin to another. I gave the auger a real hard tug to get it out of the first bin, as the auger had been set in motion I soon learned how slippery the end could be. Needless to say I lost hold of it and watched helplessly as the heavy motor pile drove the end into the ground and the fly wheel snapped. What a start to a beautiful morning and I now had to go explain to Dad what I had done. I found him at the mill and told him simply that I had broken the auger. In classic Dad fashion he asked if it was the fly wheel that I had broken. I confirmed that it was and he off handedly mentioned ‘they can get away from you pretty easily can’t they.’ He then said “notice how I knew exactly where it had broken.” 

I then headed off to feed the cows I needed to move some hay and needed to pull the ford ten wheeler up the edge of the hill to get some hay, as most of you know the ford’s brakes consisted of turning the key off at the right moment, which I did. The truck then fell out of gear though and I began rolling down the hill past the grain mill. I tried mashing it back into gear but was unsuccessful as I rapidly gained speed. I tried pumping the brakes but to no avail. As I came to the barn I then had to decide if I should try to get on the dirt road at that speed or take out the fence between the manure pit and the evaporation pond. Not having faith in my ability to maneuver onto the dirt road with no brakes at that speed I decided that the fence must go. As I rounded the barn I saw a new, tall pile of sand that looked like a good runaway truck barrier to me so I drove straight into it. After wiping the sweat from my brow I then proceeded to explain to my dad what I had done to the truck. Memory fails me now but I do know that there was one more thing that I broke that morning and had to tell my father about. (I feel like it involved one of the tractors that I tried to move the hay with but can’t remember for sure.) And I remember thinking as I headed to explain the last one to my Dad, “I have broken all this and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Dad and Ross knew full well that letting us inexperienced kids work would result in many mistakes and some of them costly. But I firmly believe that raising good men and women was way more important to them than a business was. After breakfast Dad then had me in the shop fixing the fly wheel as you will notice in the picture that follows it has been welded all the way across. Ross walked into the shop as Dad was showing me how to fix it and just laughed when he saw what I had done. They not only gave us a chance to work and make mistakes they taught us how to fix them. This I think relates to every aspect of our lives.

Think Again!

Here's a good one from Utahna... I'm sure none of us can relate!

From Utahna:

While at the flat one day I was driving the utility tractor picking up pipe.  We finished one row and Uncle Ross sent me out the gate onto the road and gave me instructions to go in the next gate where the pipe would be set up.  Before taking off he said “Don’t run over the fence”!  

I'm sure you can imagine what was going on in my teenage head. “Ughh yeah!  Did you really have to tell me that?  I'm not that dumb!” 

So I took off…I'm sure singing at the top of my lungs (cause no one would be able to hear me over the tractor). Or maybe I was carrying out a conversation with a boy... you know, me being both sides... out loud. Yeah embarrassing, I probably shouldn't admit that kind of thing. But when you are stuck behind the wheel of a truck or tractor all day, you gotta find something to entertain yourself.  

Anywho back to the story.  

Just be-boppin' along and you guessed it.   Thump. “DOUEEE!”  I had forgotten to watch my trailer, and yup, I had run over the fence.  And YES, he did need to tell me not to run over the fence! 

He was nice and didn't even get mad at me.  And somehow, I even got out of fixing  the fence! ;) 

Lesson learned: if you think you're smarter than that… Think again. 

Why Do They Call it PMS???

BECAUSE MAD COW DISEASE WAS ALREADY TAKEN!!!

Haha... Levi's favorite joke.

But seriously, this is one story about a mad cow you are not gonna wanna miss!

From Jason:

Every morning before school I had to feed the cows.  While I was feeding, either Dad or Uncle Ross would milk the cows, if they saw me in the morning they would con me into gathering the cows from the corral to the holding pen for them.  

One such morning, I guess I wasn't sneaky enough, so Ross got me to go get the cows for him.  I hiked up the hill and brought all the cows down and around, when I got to the straw pile I did all my whooping and hollering to get the cows up and going; there was one cow in the corner that was not getting up. I walked along the wall up to her and kicked her to get her going.  She looked at me and as she got up, she charged at me!  With a lightning-quick-farm-ninja move, I stepped to the side and she hit her head on the wall. As I looked at her from a distance, she seemed pretty defensive. I decided not to press my luck with her so I just looked at her number (I can’t remember what it was now) and went on. When I had gathered the rest of the cows in the holding pen, I went in and let Uncle Ross know I had gathered them all except for one and gave him the cow’s number.  

Ross asked “Why didn't you bring her in?”

When I told him that the cow had charged me he gave me a questioning look as if I were talking nonsense.  He confirmed the number with me and was pretty confident that “that cow would not do such a thing.”  Together we went out to get the cow.  As we neared the straw pile he went up to check the number on the tag as I hung back, keeping my distance from the mad cow.  

When Ross confirmed the number he turned around to tell me that “this cow would not hurt a …..”

As he spoke I saw the cow charging toward him in the background, I pointed at the cow stuttering Uncle Ross's name.

Uncle Ross said “What?”

He turned around to see what I was pointing at; just then the cow hit him sending him sliding in the fresh manure.  The cow broke off and turned around for another run.  Not quite sure what to do I waved my arms and hollered while Ross raised his hand at the cow while working his way off the ground. Between the commotions the two of us made, the cow backed off.  

As we walked away from the straw pile I said to Uncle Ross “Nice cow huh?”

He didn't have much to say.

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Aren't you glad you stopped by?!?  I told ya it was a good one!  To keep reading such fine literature, e-mail me your stories!  jami_c_hurst@hotmail.com

FARM PROUD!!!

From Juel:

Anybody recall how important pride was in our work as we hauled hay; trying to make the stack straight, but more over making sure we all got our fair share of the bales off the loader.  Most memorably was with Ben and David.  Four of us on the truck, Kammy behind the wheel singing the Frito Bandito Song; Ross and I would try not to let Ben or David get any bales.  I remember quite a few, not dirty tricks, but inventive tricks to get my fair share of the bales.  Long, hot, hard days that were oh so fun.  Where did those days go?  Some of my best times have been on the back of a truck or on top of a stack sharing work and time with my coworkers:   friends and family.  Windy, 90* days hauling dry bales of hay.  Following which, one would just stand in the shower at night with cold water running into open, bloodshot eyes, trying to dislodge some of the hay and sooth the scratches.  Can’t forget trying to clear your nasal passages of Green Boogers.  Then at last, a sound night’s sleep.

From Jami:
And then remember scoffing at the stacks formed by harrow beds? How 1 week later they were being braced with logs?  Yeah...

I also remember looking down at the stacks and trying to figure out how many of those bales I had lifted during their journey.

Oh and also... they talk so much about black lung disease caused by smoking.  At the end of those days as I was cleaning out all the green snot, I couldn't help but imagine all the scientists fighting over my lungs when I die to figure out this new "green lung disease".

One more thing... have any of you ever heard my dad's impression of my mom singing the Frito Bandito song???  It it entertaining... I would request it the next time I saw him if I were you! :)

What made you proud?

Young in Juniper

From Juel:

I recall long ago Ross and I going for firewood down to the cedars by the rest area.  I was driving the white dodge and I believe Ross was in a blue Chevy.  The Dodge had a full ½ turn of play in the steering wheel.   Anyhow, I’m not sure how this happened (Being as how we always drove at a reasonable speed): but we came to a light rise and fall in the road (well as a remember it more of a cow trail)  and somehow the front end of my pickup came off the ground and when it came down again my front wheels had turned.  I was all over that road turning that big steering wheel from right to the left, over and over again, struggling to keep the front of the pickup in front of me!   Which I managed to do eventually.  Ross was behind me laughing hysterically (my story) at my dilemma. 

Oh to be young in Juniper!  

It appears I should have given David lessons on driving.  I did Jami; and it has served her well over the years.  I know; because I have heard her stories!

Udder Chaos!

Straight from my journal... and everyone knows you can't lie in your journal.  Haha... wish I would have written more about my farm experiences and less about my romantic obsession of the week...

Added commentary is in parenthesis.

May 29, 2000-Memorial Day

Fed my cows at 6 am, then went to the flat and Dad and I moved 3 lines and set one line over the fence. We were waiting for Ross to come and pick up the line, but after waiting a few minutes, we got a little bored so we moved one of Alberto's lines (Ahh, yes, farm bored).  Boy!  That was fun!  NOT!  It was mud up to about my knee!  Ross finally got there and while we were picking up the line we got stuck, so Aaron had to walk about a mile to get another pick-up and a chain to pull us out.  In the mean time, the rest of us walked about 1/4 mile with hammers, pliers, and fence posts to build a gate.  Good times.  We made our gate and got the line all picked up, so I'm thinkin' "Yeah! I'm goin' home!"  So I sat on the tool box and took off my boots and socks.  (This is where things get interesting.)

Well... there had been a  cow get out through our gate.  So they (Dad and Ross) decided they should probably put it back in.  First they were chasing the cow on foot, running down the fence line yelling at the cow.  I thought it would go right in the gate (like every other cow we'd ever chased-sheesh... you think a girl would learn from experience).  Well, obviously the cow had another plan and she took off.  So, Ross got in the pick-up and continued the chase.

Well... Brad and I were sitting on top of the big tool box in the back.  Now, I don't know if Ross forgot that we were back there or if he really just didn't care (I tell myself the first and it helps me sleep better at night).  But off we went... swerving back and forth, slowing down and suddenly speeding up again, bouncing over sagebrush, uneven ground and what felt like small sink-holes.  There was more than one occasion when Brad and I wondered if we would make it home alive.  We were holding on for dear life.  Every time we turned we prayed that we would stay on the toolbox.  When we swerved left Brad had white knuckles and silver-dollar eyes.  One violent jerk of the steering wheel and we were suddenly turning right which meant Brad could relax a little and it was my turn in panic mode with the wide eyes and white knuckles.  Back and forth it went.  (These 5-10 minutes felt like hours... I think Brad will agree.)  Finally we hit a bump that knocked Brad off the toolbox and into the bed of the truck.  Normally, I would have helped him.  But, since my own life was in jeopardy, he was on his own.

Every time we slowed down a bit, poor Brad would try to make it back to the tool box, but just as he would get up we would speed up and he would jerk backwards or we would swerve and he would hit one of the sides of the pick-up.  Finally, he decided we were never going to slow down, so he decided to just go for it, naturally, just then, Ross slammed on the breaks and Brad once again hit the side of the pick-up.  But this time, he landed in a corner and decided that he would just stay there.

The corner looked pretty cozy... pretty safe.  Safer than the toolbox.  So, I let go and let myself fall into the back of the truck.  Unfortunately, I landed on a chainsaw and my bare foot hit a roll of barbed wire from previously mentioned fencing project.  So my little toe was all cut up.  But like I said, the corner represented safety, so when I got to one, I stayed there.

The crazy chase wasn't enough to scare the cow through the gate, but I guess she decided the fence would be OK.  So she went right through the middle of it.  (Cows!)  One more fence to fix before we could go home...

After the cow was safely on the inside, and fences mended, I asked Brad if he wanted back on the tool box.  He shook his head, a definate "NO!"  However, Aaron joined and made a third passenger, Brad decided the tool box would be okay if he was the middle passenger.  We decided we had just experienced something far better than a carnival ride (though neither one of us wanted a second ride... ever).

Confessions of a Farm Girl

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: For protection of the innocent (cough... oh, excuse me) it is IMPERATIVE that Uncle Ross not be allowed to read the following.  Thank you in advance for your cooperation!

Signed,
The Management


From Jami:

So, being a "girl" in the farm-world is no small thing.  First off, no one thinks I belong (ask Grandpa Hurst) and secondly, no one expects me to be able to keep up and pull my own.  So I am already at a disadvantage and have to prove myself an asset.  I had to put forth 150% effort to be able to hang with the guys.  Up until now, I have been reluctant to concede that I may have gotten a little a tiny bit a smidgen of an iota of special treatment.

Aaron and Jim, you are gonna want to make sure you are sitting for this.

One hot summer day (I believe I was 14 going on 15) Jim, Aaron and I were loading the truck (I wanna say Old Blue, but why were there 3 of us loading Old Blue?).  I may have taken a few bales from the boys (WHAT???  Ross and Dad did it to me!!!)  Fed up, Jim and Aaron united in letting me know "Fine!  If you think you can load the truck by yourself, do it."  They both sat down and folded their arms.  

I'm sure they expected me to get backed up and beg for their help... Ha!  They don't know the determination of a farm girl.  I was loading that truck just fine by myself.  

However...

Not too long after they sat down, Ross happened to drive by to check our progress and found two strapping 16-year-old young men sitting idly with their arms folded while one ultra determined 14-year old girl carried out the work of two grown men.

He wasn't happy.

Like at all...

What was I supposed to say?  I apologized to them after Ross left...

Yeah I didn't.  

I giggled and smirked as the three of us finished loading the truck.  I probably didn't take their bales though...for the rest of that load...who can really remember though?

LUCY! You got some 'splainin' to do...

From Ross:

Who remembers the white Dodge?

This incident happened in August 1987 as I recall. We will need some help from David Little to verify the date and some other important detail that I, to this date, have not been privy to.

As Sanford and I were running the combines (95H) harvesting the wheat on the “Big Field” on this particular August afternoon, we could see some unusual activity happening at the dairy.

The Dodge pickup had pulled out a short while earlier headed toward the flat, which was normal and expected. Then as I recall, the Massey pulled out headed in the same direction, followed a short time later by the K-8 winch truck.

As Sanford and I had both pulled up to a truck to dump our loads at about the same time we mentioned to each other what we had seen, and had seen the same things.

Sanford said that although we didn't know what was going on, “at least no one had been killed or else someone would have been up to get us.”

That was good enough for me, and we went on cutting grain.

Now this is where the details get sketchy to me and possibly in need of some clarification. Apparently as David was driving the pickup down the road in his usual “safe manner”, he entered the curve by Merrill Nelsons well at an unsafe speed, to which he lost control and rolled the vehicle, I’m not sure how many times. There were no injuries (that were admitted to) in the incident.

I would like to know just what happened sometime before I die, David and Ben.

Here piggy, piggy, piggy...

Here's one you are NOT gonna want to miss!  If you haven't heard it, you are in for a real treat.  If you have heard it, reading it will be that much better since you can "hear" Ross telling it as you read, his inflections and chuckle.  I love to hear Ross tell a story.  Here it is:

Traveling Pigs-April 1999

Ross Hurst

            I’m not sure how many of you have ever seen a stock rack with two pigs in it sliding down the freeway at 70 MPH, but I have ... and in my mirror, even. I don’t know just how the rack came out. We’ve hauled many animals in it with no incident.

On this particular day however, I got "LUCKY". It was quite a sight, a rack with those pigs doing 70 MPH and slowing fast (and staying in their own lane, each pig riding on their own plank, I might add.) with a semi right behind with his brakes locked, blue smoke billowing out from all the wheels. And I watched it all in my mirror as I was getting stopped myself.

When things finally stopped, and the smoke settled, the pigs were in the rack with the semi about 20 feet behind parked on the interstate. The pigs didn’t appreciate the ride however, and proceeded to get out of the rack where it is cut out for the pickup wheel wells. The one decided he would rather walk the rest of the way to the butcher, and so off he went. The other one stayed close.

The truck driver, another motorist, and I got the rack put back on the pickup and got the traffic going again.

There was a pickup pulling a horse trailer that wasn’t far behind that stopped. It just happened to be some team ropers on their way to a rodeo. They had never roped a pig before and thought they were up to the challenge. There were three men with their lasso’s and to work they went. One of them took off after the pig that was headed north while the other two stayed with me to get the pig that was still close to us.

Those guys were good. It didn’t take much time at all to have the first hog loaded up. Just throw the rope and then toss the pig in the pickup. As simple as that.

We caught up to the other pig about one-quarter of a mile away, heading back toward us. That third cowboy wasn’t having as much luck as we did, but then that second pig wasn’t in a very good mood and didn’t want to be messed with. We got him anyway, tossed him in, then tied the rack in so it couldn’t come out. And down the road I went on to the butcher. 

I never did get the names of any of the people that helped me that day.  They either left before I could ask them, or they refused to tell me. 

And what of the pigs?  One of them had a very small scrape on his rump but no bruise.  They came out of this with no injury whatsoever.

From Jami: Ha! Except that they were still on their way to the butcher!  And you thought your day was bad...  Also, can you imagine the stories told at the next several truck-stops and rodeos?

The Girl Made of Steel

Hey everyone!  Thanks so much for the positive feedback.  I am really excited about this blog and can't wait to hear from you all!  

Jerica sent me this story today.  I was amazed at how tough she was that day, but reading and thinking about it now as an ER nurse gives the story a whole new angle for me.  One of the ER docs I work with talks about the "overall sign" meaning if you see a guy come in with muddy boots, dirty overalls (thus... overall sign), and calloused hands-you gotta take him seriously-this is not a guy who comes in for frivolous stuff.  Not only do you have to take him seriously, you have to dig deep, this is a guy who will down play everything!  It kills me the stuff that comes to the ER by ambulance every day, I always think "REALLY?  My parents wouldn't have even taken me to the doctors office!"  So it makes me laugh that Jerica-run over by a ginormous truck-has to wait in the pick-up for the rest of us to finish picking up the hay! Definately a positive "overall sign".  

Enjoy!

From Jerica:

During the summer of '98, we were down in the hay fields going around to pick up the last of hay bales. Joe and I were riding on the running board of the old Ford truck half full of hay with a few people on top and Catie was driving. For some reason, I thought it would be fun to keep leaning back while holding onto the door/side mirror of the truck. I had done it a few times and each time Catie had told me to quite leaning back and get in the cab with her. We were turning at the end of a field to go put the hay loader onto the side of the truck. Right when we turned I leaned back and lost my grip. I remember falling off laughing and as I was laughing I saw both sets of dually tires coming right for me. I thought I should role to my left and try to avoid it but I couldn't move so all four tires came on top of me from my right hip to my left shoulder. The truck had stopped and people were yelling trying to figure out what had happened. I looked up and saw people peering over the top of the truck. Joe had told me not to move but I just got up and started crying for my dad. Joe had said he thought I was dead and it was a traumatizing experience for him. I'm pretty sure it was that way for a lot of us that day. My dad grabbed me and brought me to the pickup where I had to stay there until they were all done. Brad and Doug were at the pickup too and started yelling at me. I was crying but no tears were coming. I couldn't believe what had just happened. 

When we got back to the dairy, my dad put me in the Suburban and went to tell my mom to take me into the hospital. I wanted Catie to come with us (of all people, the one who ran me over). When we got to the hospital, we went in for x-rays and it killed me to lay on my right side for the x-ray. Turned out, it was just a fracture on my pelvis. No other injuries. I stayed in the hospital for about a week and I was told to stay on the crutches for at least two weeks. When I got home, I lasted a few days on the crutches and decided I could walk without them. By that next Sunday I was crutch free but limping. As far as I know, today I am functioning normal :)