tractor

Bears Just Ain’t That Bad

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Growing up way,way in the country the last place bordering a game reserve, the nearest neighbor a mile away, I was always aware we didn’t live in the sticks, but I hoped to someday. The woods were full of wild pigs, deer, coyote, foxes, alligators, a few black bear, snakes, birds, and a plethora of other wild creatures.  It wasn’t a great idea to go stumbling around in the dark out there, especially without knee-high boots, a pistol, and a light.  

It was not uncommon for hunters to come walking up to our place, any time of the day or night, reporting being stuck in the deeply rutted roads and off-road areas of the reserve, muddy, fatigued, and bedraggled, desperate for help in getting out of a mud hole. Daddy or my brother sometimes cranked the tractor,  bounced them back to their disaster, and pulled them out.  It could take quite a while and was a lot of work.  More often than not, if they had no cash, they left personal property to be redeemed when they came back with cash.

One morning about daylight, visitors of a different type came walking up, a teenage couple who’d gone parking and gotten stuck.  The girl explained, they’d spent the night in the car, afraid to walk out, thinking a bear might get them.

I was amazed.  Her father must have been nothing like mine. There wasn’t a bear big or bad enough to warrant getting caught spending the night in a parked car with a boy.  I’d have faced a dozen bears rather than Daddy with a story like that!

Woman’s Work is Never Done

 

“Them that don’t work, don’t eat.” We must have looked like a hungry bunch because Daddy made sure we worked.  Farm work was a regular thing, but when Daddy had invited folks in for a holiday, he kicked it into high gear.  The place had to be groomed; brush cut, fence rows cleaned out, fields bush hogged.  It was always good to have something new lined up to show progress; another few acres cleared, some pecan trees planted, a new field fenced.  It wouldn’t do to have folks thinking we’d been just lying about.

Work was divided into “Man’s Work” and “Woman’s Work.”  Women were lucky.  As far as “Man’s Work,” Daddy believed in equal opportunity.  Womenfolk were expected to work right alongside the men, just as hard and long.  Due to our lesser strength and inferior expertise, however, we couldn’t be expected to handle complex tasks involving tractor driving, bush hogging, and equipment use, when there was lesser manual work to be relegated to peons. We were, however, excellent candidates for piling brush, chopping bushes, and wielding simple tools such as hoes, post-hole diggers, shovels, and wheelbarrows.  Fetching and carrying were our forte!

Fortunately for the girls, once we had labored long and hard with Daddy, we were free to pursue “Woman’s Work”; that would be cooking dinner after a long day’s work.  As often as not, Mother worked alongside us, so “Woman’s Work” started after “Man’s Work” was complete.  “Man’s Work” was over at the end of daylight.  Men couldn’t cook, clean, do laundry, or milk cows.  Fortunately for men, according to Daddy, there was some obscure Bible verse I never heard quoted or referenced anywhere else, that said, “Thou canst not take what thou cannot give.”  He also hinted at possible hormone issues.  How’s that for rustication?  I often felt sorry for Daddy and Billy as they collapsed at the end of a long day while we were cooking and cleaning.  They must have felt just awful.

Anyway, back to the holiday.  Once we’d worked like fiends preparing, the long-awaited guests arrived, amid compliments on the resort-like beauty of the farm.  “I wish I lived here.  It looked so restful.” (You should have been here the last week!)  Daddy’s mood was effusive.  He was a wonderful host.  “Get Aunt Lou some more coffee and cake!”  “We’re running low on iced tea out here.”  He’d charm my cousins.  They’d be riding horses, riding the zip-line running from a tall elm to way past the pond, and swimming in the pond.  It must have looked like a theme park to poor, deprived children who had to lie about watching cartoons, riding bicycles, playing with friends, and drinking Kool Aid all the time.  I felt so badly for them when they’d say, “I wish he was my daddy!”  So did I!