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I remember when I was a boy we
used to have a milk cow, and like a lot of other people we also had
hogs. Callaway had built several floored hog shelters, or pens as we
called them. Well, my Dad would turn the cow out in the company
pasture which covered several acres and at night he would catch her
up and put her in our barn. Almost every other house had a barn back
then.
Once Dad couldn't catch Old
Betsy although he had tried for two days. So, in a tempered mood,
Dad took his shot gun and shot Old Betsy thinking she would go to
the barn I guess. But all he accomplished was ruining her milk bag,
rendering her no good for milking anymore. So he killed her and
transported her to Conyers to a cannery behind the old court house.
There, him and Mom and a
couple of friends cut her up in little pieces and canned every bit
of edible meat there was. We ate canned beef for a long time.
Of course, Dad took a lot of
kidding about that old cow. But after that we never owned another
cow.
I remember as a boy, Dad has a
collar on her and would have me take her over to the ball park and
stob her out for about 4 or 5 hours every day. We had an old T Model
Axel we would put through a chain loop and drive it deep in the
ground.
Yes, those were the good old
days. Especially for memories, huh?
By the way, Arthur Day, better
known as Rabbit was my Dad.' |
