Green Acres!
by Dax Montana on May.06, 2006, under General
Like a twenty first century schizoid man Mr. Douglas, I gave up the hustle and bustle of city kitchen life. I moved from a crazy mixed up world with twisted sense of values and jumped into a much more simple life.
.
.
(Song to accompany this post)
.
.
This is a view from my basement window. I find myself staring out into those misty mountains on a regular basis. I feel calm and relaxed and strangely at ease with the world. I have been trying to live humbly and hubris free. It ain’t easy, especially for an egomaniac like me.
My first night on the farm, one of the “Brothers” called. A calf was being born in the lower pasture. We gathered up some flashlights, rope, and liquid soap. We jumped into the truck and headed for the pasture.
Several direct connects later, the pasture was filled with family members, each with rope and soap and light. Cowboys we ain’t! We herded that cow ‘round and ‘round that pasture. She eluded every toss of the lasso. Finally the loop went around that cow’s neck. Three of us held tight as that heifer dragged us around. Someone finally lassoed her legs, and with many great tugs, she finally succumbed to the ground. I was then instructed to “soap up.” I found out that liquid soap acts as a lubricant for hands and arms while pulling a calf from a womb. Nasty just doesn’t seem to describe the moment.
Anyway, as gross as it was, it was honest work. There was a need and someone had to do the job. That night it was me. It felt good to do hard, honest, dirty work. The “Brothers” named the baby calf “Dax” in my honor.
Although, I was only a temporary “hired hand” while I waited for my new job, I wasted no time getting acquainted with the farm. The following morning, I found myself watching the sunrise from between two of the six chicken houses. Chickens were arriving Friday morning and the houses needed preparation.
I found myself suddenly working the other end of chicken production. Instead of selling cooked and processed chicken, I was now involved in the raising of chicken. It all seemed surreal and somehow appropriate that I now have to scrape chicken litter from the bottom of my boots.
After several hard hours of working the chicken houses, I was rewarded with a couple of hours of great fishing at the pond. The pond was stocked with bream the size of dinner plates, and they always seemed hungry for my bait. There were forearm sized catfish in the pond too. After fishing, I can say that I was tired. Not just tired I need to sleep tired, but tired like my bones and muscles hurt I need a coma tired. It felt good, really good.
My whole life it seems that I’ve tried to run away from this simple life. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.
Just Damn!
May 6th, 2006 on 7:37 pm
It was good that you could turn the calf and save it. Sometimes if it is already in the birth canal and breached it is just about impossible to save the calf and cow both. I have had to pull a few with a horse and one time we hooked up the tractor to the rope. Nasty bloody business but just part of running cattle. The simple life suits me just fine now although I was up to my neck in the hustle and bustle of business for years. I missed it at first but now it just seems like it was a dream-some of it good and a some of it a gotdam nightmare.
May 7th, 2006 on 6:16 am
Welcome home, brother. Let’s get together. No cokes, no smokes. Maybe we can walk and talk. Life is grand in these green hills…
May 7th, 2006 on 8:14 am
Sounds like you’re enjoying the country life; I tried it, my husband is a farmer but I could only last 4 yrs. I am a city girl at heart…
May 7th, 2006 on 9:28 am
Good to have you back, Dax! As always, I enjoy the music you put online to… illustrate your postings…
May 7th, 2006 on 9:31 am
What a beautiful view! I miss seeing all that greenery. Chickens make great pets too. I used to have a red rooster as a pet. He’d love to go for car rides and he’d sleep on my horse.
May 7th, 2006 on 1:07 pm
Sure is a pretty view.
May 7th, 2006 on 3:17 pm
Green Acres!
The story of the neophyte cowboy….