Country Gal

I am the product of the prairie...born and raised.

I have driven tractor, rode  on stone boats, cleaned barns with a pitch fork,  hauled grain, slopped pigs, milked goats.  I have ridden out to  muskrat traps and watched as they were skinned and hides tanned.  I have helped with the butchering of  rabbits, sheep, goats, and steers .  I have plucked  and drawn chickens and turkeys and shorn sheep. 

 I have walked barefoot across stubble fields, dirt roads, and   cow  pastures stepping in spots that were  even softer, warmer, and stickier  in consistency than any cold rain water filled mud puddle could ever be.

I have played on 'soft' ice  on the  school damn and  I have skated on a dugout until my frozen feet itched and burned bringing tears for hours afterward. 

I have ridden horses while they were outfitted with bridles, saddles, and sometimes even harnesses; and at other times just with a rope around their  neck. I have fallen off some of these same horses,  once been knocked out, and rode home again because my leg was too sore to walk that far.

I have caught grasshoppers in a Cheese Whiz jar and held them captive  in the hot sun in July.  I have chased snakes and been chased by snakes.  I have had the smell of skunk on almost every vehicle I have owned and porcupine quills on the nose of every dog befriended.

 I have  played 'chicken' with a badger while bareback on a horse.  I have carried numerous pails  of water to gopher holes after blocking the 'escape' hole with rocks; and with garden hoe in hand attempting , sometimes successfully and not without some ruthlessness, to hit the running wet rodent  until it ran no more.

At the age of eleven I fed, watered, and  bedded 48 cattle  in March for two weeks on my own while the parents were away, in Ontario ,  on business.

I have shoveled grain in a bin while the  grain was augured in  and have also shoveled grain out of the bin while the  grain  was being augured out. I have cleaned bins of old moldy grain and mouse nests with shovel and brooms.  I have driven half tons and grain trucks without gas pedals or brakes across fields and gravel roads.   I have lifted bags of fertilizer,  dragged and spread straw bales  and unrolled round feed ones.

I have hauled the backseat out of my car to transport a lambing sheep to town. I have vaccinated, docked, dehorned, and circumcised all that
demanded such procedures.


But.. I must admit that without a doubt the strangest countrygal thing that I ever ever have done was to hold onto the head (as in the part with the eyes and ears and nose) of a male goat while a veterinarian collected goat semen from another part of its body.

And that is all I am going to say about that.

 

Country Living

Not too long ago someone spoke to me about the lifestyle of those who live in rural Canada.

Their breathy awe filled voice spoke with phrases sprinkled with pastoral metaphors, odes, and similes  when they described the abundance of Nature's Beauty,  the Simplicity and Quietness of Daily Living, the Purity of Air and Water, the Relaxation,  Freedom from Schedules and Traffic found in the Crime Free Rural Lifestyle, as well as the total Economic Freedom  from Financial Burdens as a result of the  Ability to Live Off The Land.

I let them speak.  I let them fantasize. I let them think that the  Nirvana type lifestyle in their mind's eye of country living was every bit as good as they dreamed.  I did not contradict or explain, or 'point out', or correct. 

I let them ignore the presence of 150 pound  security dog in the yard , the building full of  tools such as: chains,  hammers from claw to sledge, generators, gas tanks, saws, wagons,  ATV,  snowmobile, axe and .22 rifle. The majority of these items my city friend would have  had a hard time even naming let alone using with efficiency or safety. 

 I avoided discussion of sewer pumps, sump pumps, water heaters, and cut off valves.  I did not point out the  shed filled with cut and cured wood for winter burning.

 I did not comment on the need for two well maintained  , gas filled vehicles needing to be plugged in for at least 4 months of the year 24/7...one to drive..the other to pull.

The existence and frequency of the siting of skunks, snakes, raccoons, squirrels porcupines, coyotes, deer, moose and occasional bear along with lynx and cougar were not discussed.

The absence of mosquito control, pest   inspectors, law enforcement officers, fire departments, water inspectors, plumbers, and electricians was not even touched upon.


Further to the conversations that did not take place, the incident of the neighbour walking 3 miles for help after his arm was caught in the baler, and his choosing to walk another mile even further as there were children playing in the first yard and he didn't want to upset them. 

This non conversation also did not cover the subject of blocked roads in winter and wet and washed out roads in summer. Nor was the possibility that the hour long trip to the nearest ER ward over icy roads during a snow storm that looms in the back of every rural resident's mind from October to March, ever mentioned or hinted at.

I am not quite certain why so many subjects were not touched upon with my Fantasizing Urban Innocent. Perhaps it was because I liked the idea of someone from the City being a little envious of my Country Bumpkin ways. But more likely the cause was because, deep down,  I was hoping against hope they would offer in some monetary way to trade living arrangements.

Alas, the offer didn't happen.

I am still enjoying my Pastoral Life free from Pollution, Crime, Social Pressures, and  am able to partake of  Nature's Seasonal Offerings that build Strength of  Character and  Instill Values that are  so often the result of there being 'No Where Else to Go'.




I suppose the pleasure of country life lies really in the eternally renewed evidences of the determination to live”--unknown

“The country life is to be preferred, for there we see the works of God; but in cities little else but the works of men. And the one makes a better subject for contemplation than the other.”

William Penn