Practicing what you preach: Are you tough enough for the farming life?

By Codi Yeager
Sun staff writer
I have always thought of myself as a “non-city” person. Growing up in rural Leelanau County has made me think of myself as someone who doesn’t scream at mice or cover their nose when within 20 feet of a barn; someone who knows how to handle being on a farm or in the so-called “wilderness”. When a good friend invited me to spend the day at her farm, along with another friend, I realized just how wrong I was.

I had been to the farm before and it hadn’t been a big deal, as long as I stayed with my friend while we were doing chores. This day would be no different. My friend, Claire, ran to greet me as I got out of the car, crunching the gravel under my boots. I was wearing an old t-shirt and my blue jeans that had holes in the knees. (I had learned long ago NOT to wear anything white or at-all decent.) We talked for a while in the driveway while we waited for another friend to show up. About 10 minutes later a black jeep pulled up and our friend Mel jumped out, apologizing for keeping us waiting. With our entire party assembled, we began walking towards the big old barn that housed the hay, horses and equipment. The barn had originally held dairy cows but had been redone to accommodate the farm’s 16 horses. One wall held saddles, bridles, halters and pitchforks. The rest of the first floor was devoted to stalls, with the second floor acting as a hayloft.
Our first farm chore for the day was to throw down hay into the stalls where the horses would find it. Claire instructed Mel and me to do this while she poured the correct amount of grain into the feed buckets. Doing as we were instructed, Mel and I started our ascent to the hayloft up a narrow wooden staircase. The light was dim and as I reached out for a railing to steady myself, I felt instead the silky wad of a spider web. I let out a yelp and jerked my hand back before frantically waving it in front of Mel saying, “ Get it off! Get it off!” By the time Mel could do anything, the web was already long gone, thanks to my waving. After a moment, we continued cautiously up the remaining steps and made it safely into the hayloft. When all the horses had hay, we climbed back down to ground level where Claire was waiting for us.
The next task on our list was to fill all the water tubs in the pastures so the animals would be able to drink while they were out grazing. As Claire went to “water” the cows, Mel and I pulled a hose out to the horse pasture. Since the day was heating up, most of the horses were crowded around the water tub. The tub itself was almost empty. If the horses had been ponies, or even normal sized, it wouldn’t have been quite as intimidating. Unfortunately, these horses were draft horses, their hooves the size of dinner plates or bigger. Mel and I warily ducked under the fence wire and into the pasture. I grasped the hose tighter and walked as lightly as I could over to the water tub, Mel following right behind me. As I bent over to watch the clear water pour into the tub, I could see those huge hooves stomping at the flies right next to me. Suddenly I felt a huge nose blow into my hair and I froze, afraid to move. Turning around ever so slowly, I stared up into the eyes of a towering horse. I shifted slightly to the side and the horse stepped up to the tub where it promptly started drinking. Still in a slight daze I backed away and out of the pasture, glad to be done with that particular job.
Mel quickly caught up to me and we walked back to the barn. Once inside, Claire, who had had no problem with the cows, asked us if we wanted to go to the house and take a short drink break. I was beginning to feel the heat, so I quickly agreed. We trudged up to the house and plopped down on the old couch that was the only furniture on the porch. Claire handed Mel and me each a cold can of Pepsi before popping the top on her own. I drank thankfully and enjoyed sitting and talking to my friends. The peace was nice while it lasted because after 10 minutes or so, it was time to get back to work.
As we walked down the porch steps, a medium-sized, brown dog rounded the corner of the house. Claire saw him and quickly went over to grab his collar. “This is Barney, our hunting dog,” she explained. Mel bent down to try to pet him, but pulled her hand back in a hurry when a she heard a low growl and he curled one of his lips. Claire assured us that he was really very friendly. Then she also warned us not to get lower than him, look him in the eye or pet him. By the time she was done talking, Mel and I had our minds made up to pretty much stay away from Barney at all costs.
Claire then told us what our next job would be: collecting eggs from the chicken coop. Finally something I knew how to do. Mel and I ran towards the low building that contained the laying hens, anxious to get away from Barney. We heard Claire shouting after us, “ Don’t run away from him, he’ll think you’re a coward!” When Mel had closed the door firmly behind us, we both breathed a sigh of relief. Collecting the eggs was very easy, and was almost like a treasure hunt. We looked carefully into each of the laying boxes for the smooth, cream-colored eggs.
After all the eggs were collected, Mel went over and tugged the door open. I heard a low growl before she gave a short shriek and slammed the door closed. She turned and looked at me with a scowl on her face. “That dog was looking at me like I was his dinner!” she exclaimed. I gave a nervous laugh and replied “ Well, I guess we’re stuck in here then.” We set the eggs gently into one of the laying boxes and leaned up against one wall of the coop. “ I can show you how to hypnotize chickens.” I offered with a shrug. Claire had showed me how on one of my past visits and I thought I could remember how. First of all we had to catch a chicken to hypnotize. This was easier said than done. After a couple of tries and a few pulled-out feathers, we managed to capture a chicken. I had Mel hold it on the ground while I drew a straight line away from its beak in the sand. I told Mel to slowly take her hands away. She did and the chicken sat there, staring straight ahead and clucking softly. For the next 20 minutes we hypnotized chickens, yet we began to tire of this after a while. I walked over to the door and peaked through a crack. I couldn’t see any sign of Barney. I slowly opened the door and Mel crept up beside me. We shot out the door, slamming it behind us and running for all we worth towards the house.
Suddenly I saw Barney around the corner of the barn. Both Mel and I put on an extra burst of speed that led us up the steps and into the safety of the screen porch. We sat down on the couch, gasping for breath. “That was close” Mel said. I nodded my head, thankful I had made it through the day alive.
My experience on the farm was a humbling one. I realized I may not be a city person, but I’m not a farm girl either. I also gained a lot of respect for my friend Claire that day. Farms are fun, but living on one is for someone with a little more guts than the average person. As for me, let’s just say I’ve learned a lot.