My brother Alan reminded me to always look down when walking across a corral.
There were things we did from a young age that we never gave a second thought about. I guess if I were born today I would work on being a gymnist. We played in the stacks of hay. Walking up and down wobblely bales of hay stacked next to the corral ready to feed to the cows.
When we moved from the Tipton farm to the Swanson farm I remember that corral fence intimately. My goal was to walk on the top of the two inch railing from the edge of the milk barn to the back covered shed. The hardest part was the wobbly gate. I would balance as best I could to walk quickly across without falling off. Toward the yard I would fall into the dirt in front of the gate. If I fell into the corral – well you know what was the largest make up of that dirt. There was one side of the corral that I didn’t walk on as it held the pen for the bulls. I didn’t want to fall into that pen. The fence was not open rails like the rest of the fence, but solid so the bulls would not be provoked if they looked into the yard.
Mostly, I practiced every day doing this balancing act. No spotters or people watching me in case I fell. My knees and elbows were mostly skinned up during my childhood.
Later it seems that Dad go rid of the cows and my horse Queenie had the run of the corral. She would come over to the fence when I did my balancing act. I would slide on her back, grab hold of the tuft of her mane and trot around the corral. She was a lazy type horse that enjoyed that more than the big ole heavy saddle. That was the time of Annie Oakly and circus acts. I would imagine that I was a circus performer riding around the ring. I was too scared to really stand on the horses back or do any real tricks.
My cousins Pam and Corky came out to visit frequently to ride the horse, play in the stacks of hay and the barn. They lived in the town of Greeley, so this was a treat. One time, probably when we were still living at Tipton’s Corky fell and broke his arm while jumping off the stacked hay. He was probably about 2 or 3.
At Swanson’s we had this great ole barn that Dad used to keep his machinery. The best part was the hay loft on the second floor. You had to climb up rails along the wall and then crawl through a hole in the floor to get up there. I think there was a step that could be lowered down by rope that the adults used, but kids always tried to shimmy up the wall and through the hole.
Not much was up there except tall gables of the barn, piles of burlap sacks used for the onion harvest and stacks of old horse harnesses used at the turn of the 1900’s when they used horses to farm instead of tractors. There was a big closed door that lead to the front of the barn and a smaller one that was always open that lead to the side of the barn into the corral and covered shed for the cows. The most fun was to dare each other to jump out into the corral from a story high into the manure pile below. Sometimes we hung from the edge of the door opening and dropped down. Other kids were braver and just plan ole jump out the one story window. I don’t remember getting hurt and it sure was fun.
Once I was older it seemed harder and harder to shimmy up the wall rails and go through the floor to the second floor of the barn. I guess confidence wains as one gets older.
My cousin Pam would have been a great gymnist. She could even do back bends with ease and keep the momentum going. I never could get the back bend right and usually fell on my butt in the process.