When I was little my parents used to take me to the barn with them, my Dad made me safe area to play amongst the straw, while my parents milked and did chores. The milking was all done by hand.
I was safe and warm in the straw. The kittys would visit..as would my dog/dogs..as I had quite a few different ones. Everything was just peachy keen except for those damn Banty (Bantam) roosters. They would fly right at my legs, and of course I would scream and bawl my eyes out. I never considered them pets and I never named them..they were evil. I named just about everything else, but never the banty hens or roosters. I loved all the other farm animals except for them.
One Fall when I was about three years old, the neighborhood men were putting up silage..somehow I was unattended. Who knows who was supposed to be watching me..perhaps I was supposed to be staying near the house..but instead I wandered into the pasture next to the barn. Imagine that. I was not afraid of cows..and I was not afraid of bulls with rings in their noses either…
There I was standing next to that big old bull stroking his leg..telling him he was a nice cow..well I don’t actually remember that..but that is probably what I was saying. My Dad said I was definitely petting the bull on the leg.
From what I am told..the men working all noticed me at once..perhaps my Mom was hollering for me. One of the young boys, jumped the fence, ran in and grabbed me quick as a wink and ran right back out of the pasture carrying me like a football… I was saved by a neighbor boy named Max:)