Fountain City, WI Farm Pets...

Since I grew up on a dairy farm, there were animals around all the time.  Some of those animals provided the reason for our income as was true of the milk cows.  Milk cows gave birth to a cute calf every year but I didn't consider cows or calves pets.  We also had hogs that provided some of the farm income.  Sows had litters of pigs several times a year but I didn't consider sows or their progeny pets. We had chickens most of the time and they provided part of our food chain so I didn't consider them pets either.  

We did have a dog most of the time but our parents had some rules for a dog that was allowed to live on our farm with us.  Those rules were that the dog had to be good with cattle and had to always live outdoors.  The first dog I remember our family had was a collie named Pal.  We must have had that dog from the time of my birth as I remember that it was around as I started school at age six.  I remember liking Pal but I don't remember how long he lived.  He was good with cattle and went along with me when I walked into our pasture to get the cows headed to the barnyard for their evening milking.  Pal was good at nipping cow back legs and making sure they headed in the direction of the barn.  We had other dogs but I was not a lover of dogs like my three sisters were so I didn't spend much time pampering the dogs.  

We also had cats on our farm.  Basically, the same rules that applied to dogs also applied to the cats.  So the purpose of the cats was to keep the mice and rat population down and be able to live outdoors as they weren't allowed in the house either.

Food was not purchased for our dogs or cats.  The dogs were fed table scraps and the cats supplied their own food from their hunting expeditions in the barn.  Cats were given milk to drink during the time of milking both morning and evening.  Dogs probably drank water from the same water sources that the cows had which was an outdoor stock tank in good weather and drinking cups at their stanchions during the winter months.  Rain provided much of the water needs of outdoor animals.  

My mother loved singing canaries so she usually had a canary in a cage in our home while I was growing up.  I listened to the singing canaries but didn't get attached to them.

But there was an animal on our farm which I really loved and that was Patches, a riding horse.  Patches was probably bought primarily for my brother, Jim, who was nearly three years older than I am.  Jim had a period of time in childhood when he wanted to be a cowboy.  He got a lariat and roped fence posts and his three sisters. He and a friend, JoDell Jerrod, even started to build a cabin so he could live outdoors like Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. So one day, a horse was bought and a corral was built where the horse would live.  Jim may have been about eleven years old when Patches joined our family.

These two pictures of Jim and Patches must have been taken on the same day.  This photo below of Jim and Patches was taken in the front yard of our farm home looking west across the county road and into a neighbor's pasture.  

The picture below has our farm barn with silo plus the chicken coop and granary partially shown in the picture.   

Jim's desire to be a cowboy may have been encouraged by our Grandpa Groves who lived during his retirement in Fountain City, WI just five miles from our farm.  He and our Grandmother had met in Montana in about 1909 when he was working in the harvest there and she was homesteading near Ryegate, MT.  They married there in 1910.  Though our grandparents only lived on their homestead for five years before moving back to WI to farm near Grandpa's parents, Grandpa carried many memories and much love for his Montana years.  He also loved taking road trips from WI to Montana as often as possible.  One of those trips was planned for August 1954 when my brother was 12 years old.  Unfortunately, Jim and Patches had a serious accident during their morning ride to the pasture to get the cows headed to the barn for milking.  Jim was riding Patches in an area that sloped downhill and had morning dew causing slippery conditions.  Patches stumbled, went down on his front legs and Jim was thrown off and onto the ground beside Patches who then rolled onto Jim's body which severed his urethra and caused internal injuries.  Jim was unable to get up.  Patches turned back and returned to the barnyard.  As our father saw the riderless horse coming into the barnyard, he knew an accident must have happened.  He hurried off through our fields in the car to find Jim.  He was able to find him across a fence where he picked him up, carried him to the car and drove back to the house to get our mother.  They drove Jim to Dr. Skemp's office in Fountain City.  The Dr. met them outside of his office and told them to take Jim immediately to the hospital in Arcadia, WI which was 20 miles away.  The extent of Jim's internal injuries would not be known until Jim was examined at St. Mary's Hospital in Rochester, MN  after he was transported there by ambulance from Arcadia that evening.  Surgery began by midnight.  His pelvis was fractured as well as his urethra being severed.  Jim would be hospitalized there for five weeks.  His recovery returned him to perfect health but his trip to Montana did not happen.

In January 2011, Bob Berndt sent the photo with the barn in the background to Jim and other family members.  Jim responded with memories that are helpful as I write this story about Patches.  

Jim Groves:  "... I have the old saddle on Patches.  I got my new saddle in 1954 from Grandpa and Grandma Groves and Uncle Vernon upon their return from their western trip that August.  My riding accident was on 10 August 1954.  Since I was supposed to go with them on this dream trip to the "Old West", they brought back a new saddle for me, purchased in Cheyenne, Wyoming, as a consolation present since I could not travel with them.  Dad and Uncle Vernon carried it up to the 6th floor Pediatric Ward in St. Mary's Hospital in   Rochester, MN, and plopped in down on the foot of my bed.  The rest is history. "

Now for how I fit into this story.  Though Patches was mostly Jim's horse, I grew to be very fond of Patches also.  I learned to saddle and ride him probably by age twelve.  I learned how to entice him with an ear of corn so I could slip a bridle on him and then get him saddled.  Jim had taught Patches to neck reign so I continued to use the same process when I was riding him.  Both Jim and I rode Patches for pleasure on our farm and to use him when we needed to go after the cows in the pasture.  Patches was probably better than any of our dogs as an animal that worked well with cattle.  I loved riding Patches into the woods and all around to find where the cattle were eating and lounging between their morning and evening milkings.  Patches was a help at times when I would find an apple tree in our woods with ripe and yummy apples on it in the fall.  Sitting in the saddle I could reach higher in the tree where some of the best apples were.  But one time I got off from Patches keeping the reigns in my hand to pick some apples from lower branches.  As I was ready to climb back on Patches, he knew that would mean we were ready to head for home.  Therefore, he knew it was time to take off at full gallop whether or not the rider was ready and able to get properly seated.  To Patches it also meant that the shortest route home was the best route even if it dragged the halfway seated rider through a broken down barbed wire fence.  To this day I have scars on my left leg where the barbs pierced more deeply than mere scratches but I valiantly stayed on the horse and made it home with the cows I had gone to get.  I'm not sure that any apples made it with me however.  My cuts probably could have been stitched but I bandaged myself as well as possible and didn't admit my episode with Patches to anyone.

Patches could be somewhat ornery and threatening.   He didn't really like much attention and was known to bite the arm of someone wanting to pet or pat him on his forehead.   As soon as he was freed from his saddle, he would whirl around, tear off through his corral and come racing up behind anyone who dared to be in the corral with him.  As I was learning to survive around Patches, I knew to take off running as soon as the saddle was removed and put into the smokehouse where it was kept.  Our family used the smokehouse for storage and not for smoking meat.  I could always make it out of the corral before Patches caught up with me.  I would give Patches an ear of corn as a treat after our ride which he devoured quite quickly.  Eventually I learned that Patches would respond differently to me when I took a "tough" approach and assumed that he was bluffing about his arrogant meanness.  I would take the saddle off, put it away and start walking toward the corral gate without looking behind me.  As I was swiftly walking away, Patches would come thunderously charging behind me!  I would twirl around with my fist in the air and demand that he "stop!"  He would rear into the air as I cleared the corral gate and turned to toss him his ear of corn.  It always worked.  I was never run over by a charging horse.

Maybe a horse isn't usually in the category of a pet.  But Patches was the animal that I was closest to on our farm while I was growing up.  I loved riding him myself and also loved the occasions when we had relatives or friends with younger children who would come for a visit because they would always want to "ride the horse".  My parents were very reluctant to allow younger children to ride Patches alone but we would saddle him, put a child in the saddle and walk him around and around our house to give them "rides on the horse."   I earned lots of brownie points with my cousins for all the times I took them riding on Patches.

I would never again live on a farm after I was married where I could have my own horse  but our family did live across the street in Loomis, NE from a pasture that had a pony named Sugar that our young sons loved to ride.  

Later we lived on the grounds of Camp Timber-lee near East Troy, WI where there were 60 horses.  Our son, Jamie, learned to love horses also and spent much time grooming, cleaning, feeding and riding those horses and twirling a lariet.  

Next photos are of Jamie on a horse but not sure where.

Next photos are of Jamie who joined a Wagon Train that rode through Kerrville, TX one weekend.  Not sure whose horse he is riding.

So my love of horses has passed to my sons.  It is fun to write this story about my favorite "pet" and to recall my experiences with Patches.  He brought joy on many occasions during my growing up years.