Boon Lake – Part 6
What started as frightening in January of 1966 was feeling as if we had always been on the farm in Boon Lake Township.
There was no aspect of farming that we had not experienced, tackled and survived. Though our equipment was not huge, we took care of the 160 acres. Orlin would get through the morning milking and it was either field work or feed grinding. Chicken, hogs, sheep and cows . . . they all had different recipes for the concentrate that was added to ear corn and some oats.
There were some things that we could not have counted on. When I had the chicken chores and the milkers washed, Carrie and I headed for the house. There was laundry and once a week bread baking. The north kitchen window faced north to take in pretty much the farm yard in total. The east kitchen window took in the pasture. One great day, I had a batch of bread going. I could hear the feed mill on the south side of the barn as that is where the auger would empty into the window of the feed room, adjacent to the silo. Carrie in the highchair and me up to my elbows in flour. There would be fresh bread for supper. The Hutchinson radio station was on most times if I was in the house.
After a bit, I thought I should have seen Orlin take the mill to the granary. I went up to the north window and looked out. What I saw made me sick. Orlin was bent over the mill at the power take-off shaft using his free arm, waving his red bandanna. I didn’t do anything but rush out the back door. Orlin was bent over using his arm as a brace against the hitch as his overall jacket was twisted into the take-off shaft, wanting to take his arm with. His arm had caused enough pressure to shear off the pin. I shut off the tractor and ran back into the house and grabbed the biggest butcher knife we had. I had to slice and dice the jacket to relieve the pressure on his arm.
What a close call. Orlin’s arm didn’t have any feeling in it for the rest of the day as the twisted cloth of the jacket had cut off blood supply from nerves, tendons and his elbow joint. I felt horrible, Orlin felt horrible that he had been careless not paying attention to where the jacket bottom was flapping. Carrie was feeling horrible as her Cheerios cup was empty. What a close call. Accidents with power take-off shafts could fill volumes. All three of us felt horrible but Orlin and I felt relief that made our legs weak. We went into Hutch later that week. We needed to buy a new chores jacket. The new one was shorter with elastic at the sides and not the free swinging type that had the huge patch pocket on the bottom. Yup . . . good old memories of farming “101.”
—— to be continued.
About all that I have gotten done on this 5th day of April is tune up the sewing studio from last weeks stitching marathon.