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Post by papaof2 on May 5, 2021 15:13:51 GMT -6
We lived with my grandparents for a while and they kept chickens. Familiar scene ;-)
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Post by arkansascob on May 6, 2021 10:28:29 GMT -6
Wifey keeps her roosters thinned down. She hates to see her girls with nekid backs.
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Post by 9idrr on May 6, 2021 17:53:44 GMT -6
Wifey keeps her roosters thinned down. She hates to see her girls with nekid backs. Used to have a great cookbook, about 52 Sunday dinners with recipes for chicken fixed differently every week for a year. You got that many roosters?
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Post by texican on May 7, 2021 19:05:12 GMT -6
Being careful of my egg bucket, I said, “No, they do the nasty,” and I clapped my hands together lightly, “And then roll over and watch ESPN.”
bret, your experience does hold a lot of truth.
A little light humor.
Like the farmer that had a bantam rooster that was always servicing the hens. The farmer told the bantam that if he did slow down he would turn legs up. One day the farmer was over where the chickens scratched and noticed the bantam was legs up and said told you that would happen.
The bantam opened his eyes and said hush and pointed up and said vulture.
Texican....
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Post by bluefox2 on May 8, 2021 8:10:57 GMT -6
I remember helping my Dad in the hayfields as a young'un. We were working a field once with a stream along one edge. I was riding on the old dump rake since we were doing loose hay for the farmer. Dad was watching as I was having trouble with the rake releasing and dropped a front wheel over the cut bank into the stream turning that Ford 8N on its side. He went over to the farmer and borrowed a chain and his John Deere, wrapped the chain around the Ford and pulled it back out and upright. Then we went back to work without missing a beat. I was about 11-12 at the time. I am not sure which one was tougher, that 8N or my Dad.
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Post by papaof2 on May 8, 2021 13:01:29 GMT -6
A note on tough equipment - when the tree crew was here, I moved the 55 gallon plastic barrel (future rain barrel) that serves as my platform for getting the Husqvarna (150?) backpack blower on my back. I didn't notice that the barrel was slightly unlevel until the running blower tipped the barrel on its side. The blower did a 360 and was still running. I moved the barrel to a more level spot, hoisted the blower onto it and then strapped myself in. I'm getting very good service from the blower I picked up used about 5-6 years ago ;-)
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Post by bretf on May 10, 2021 17:57:22 GMT -6
I remember helping my Dad in the hayfields as a young'un. We were working a field once with a stream along one edge. I was riding on the old dump rake since we were doing loose hay for the farmer. Dad was watching as I was having trouble with the rake releasing and dropped a front wheel over the cut bank into the stream turning that Ford 8N on its side. He went over to the farmer and borrowed a chain and his John Deere, wrapped the chain around the Ford and pulled it back out and upright. Then we went back to work without missing a beat. I was about 11-12 at the time. I am not sure which one was tougher, that 8N or my Dad. Bluefox2, I think our dads and their generation were the definition of tough. Mine could outwork anyone I knew until he got colon cancer around 80. And the dump rake. I haven't thought of that torturous contraption for decades. That rotten thing dang near broke my leg before I figured out how to work it. And my sister's. And like you, we pulled it with an 8N. Sister and I traded off, who drove and who ran the rake. Thank goodness, we never laid the tractor on its side. Surprising, since we were both in grade school then. Another piece of equipment did break one of my sister's bones. Dad had a tractor for a while, he was trying out while considering buying it. I don't know the manufacturer, but it was fun to drive. It had hand brakes at each back wheel and we'd lock one up and spin in circles in the barnyard. To start it, you hand to crank it. My sister and I didn't know about an engine kicking at the time. Well, that little tractor did kick, and one day, it kicked back and the crank hit her arm. The other kids in our grade school thought we were making it up when she went to school with a cast on her arm and we told everyone it was because she was kicked by the tractor.
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Post by papaof2 on May 10, 2021 18:09:43 GMT -6
In the early days of automobiles = possibly more Model T's than any other because cheap cars sold the most - the cast on your arm was a common badge of car ownership. I'll guess that those people became more careful of the spark advance after the first kickback ;-)
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Post by bretf on May 10, 2021 18:35:44 GMT -6
When I was very young, Dad had an International pickup, 50's vintage. In later years he told me it was 6 volt, and always drained the battery. Someone with electrical knowledge (Papa, were you hanging out in Burns, Oregon or Boise in the late fifties) told him a 9 volt would run it without hurting any of the electrical components. A 12V would fry them.
When I had knowledge about such things, I wondered about a 9 volt but he said they were available back then.
Still, there were times the battery wouldn't have enough juice to crank over the engine. We were on the canal road above our house one day, skiing. I was too small, but Dad taught my brothers to waterski in the irrigation canal, pulling them with the pickup.
There's a spot where the road rises and goes away from the canal, so we always had to stop there. We did, and pulled in the tow-rope and got whichever brother it was out of the canal and loaded up.
And of course, the pickup wouldn't start.
Dad got the handyman jack out and raised one back wheel. With the key turned on, the tranny in 3rd, he spun the raised wheel a coupe of times, hand cranking the pickup with the back wheel.
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Post by papaof2 on May 10, 2021 19:05:26 GMT -6
Two, four, six, eight and twelve volt batteries are readialy available - lead acid only comes in two volt increments as each cell is two volts. An eight volt battery AND the generator's voltage regulator being adjusted up to eight volts would have worked, but with very short life for the various bulbs.
Electric golf carts (and similar vehicles) are often 36 or 48 volts and the 48 volt vehicles use either six of the eight volt batteries or eight of the six volt batteries. Early solar power systems used golf cart batteries because they were the cheapest source of 200+ ampere hour batteries and it's easy to put together multiples of six volt batteries for 12, 24 or 48 volt systems.
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Post by texican on May 13, 2021 22:35:01 GMT -6
As a child, my maternal grandfather had a old case tractor that would not start occasionally and he would use the crank to start it. I would work the gas and it would start up. Probably a weak battery, but $$ were hard to come by. He also had a spark plug hose to air up the tires. Grandfather let me drive the tractor when I was only 5 or 6 until I hit a gate post, then it was drive in only open fields.
Grandfather also had an old Studebaker pickup. This was a great truck. Thick steel body and bumpers, but was a column 3 speed which was a problem for a 6 year old.
My maternal grandmother decided that I was old enough to go to private school and the farming chores ended, but my sis and I had to collect eggs each day when we got home. One day in the barn hay loft, sis and I went to the hole in the hay bales where a hen liked to lay her eggs and when we looked down into the hole there was a snake eating eggs and off to the house we went and grandmother came out to the barn and stated that it was only a chicken snake and killed it and feed it to the rat terriers.
Living on a farm and ranch was exciting for two kids.
Texican....
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Post by ydderf on May 16, 2021 0:26:39 GMT -6
When I was 7 or 8 visiting at grampa's homestead my 10 year old cousins and I shot a crow with a pellet rifle. My granny made the older boys pluck and clean it then she cooked it for our lunch. The rest of the herd got to eat homemade bread with honey. I'm pretty sure my mom and aunts were snickering on the other hand I learned to not shoot crows or other non food animals.
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Post by bretf on May 17, 2021 19:47:43 GMT -6
In the early days of automobiles = possibly more Model T's than any other because cheap cars sold the most - the cast on your arm was a common badge of car ownership. I'll guess that those people became more careful of the spark advance after the first kickback ;-) Our wood splitter requires a very soft touch. Pull it with fingers loose and let the pull-handle slip away after each pull or else.
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Post by bretf on May 17, 2021 19:55:02 GMT -6
As a child, my maternal grandfather had a o;d case tractor that would not start occasionally and he would use the crank to start it. I would work the gas and it would start up. Probably a weak battery, but $$ were hard to come by. He also had a spark plug hose to air up the tires. Grandfather let me drive the tractor when I was only 5 or 6 until I hit a gate post, then it was drive in only open fields. Grandfather also had an old Studebaker pickup. This was a great truck. Thick steel body and bumpers, but was a column 3 speed which was a problem for a 6 year old. My maternal grandmother decided that I was old enough to go to private school and the farming chores ended, but my sis and I had to collect eggs each day when we got home. One day in the barn hay loft, sis and I went to the hole in the hay bales where a hen liked to lay her eggs and when we looked down into the hole there was a snake eating eggs and off to the house we went and grandmother came out to the barn and stated that it was only a chicken snake and killed it and feed it to the rat terriers. Living on a farm and ranch was exciting for two kids. Texican.... My first memory of driving, around 6 years old, was on the 9N ford in Grandpa's hay field, pulling the slip while the men loaded it with hay. One day, Dad did something with a lever. I didn't know what it was, but as I drove between the bales, I pulled that lever up. It was the hydraulic lever, and by the time Dad got to me and the tractor, I was driving in a wheelie that would make motor cyclists proud. Dad let me know to keep my hands off the lever from then on. I did, at least until I understood what it was about. Then I'd mess around, raising the front wheels off the ground and navigating with the rear-wheel brakes. But not where Dad could see. I
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Post by bretf on May 17, 2021 20:02:57 GMT -6
When I was 7 or 8 visiting at grampa's homestead my 10 year old cousins and I shot a crow with a pellet rifle. My granny made the older boys pluck and clean it then she cooked it for our lunch. The rest of the herd got to eat homemade bread with honey. I'm pretty sure my mom and aunts were snickering on the other hand I learned to not shoot crows or other non food animals. I've only eaten crow figuratively, not literally. But about the age of your experience, I shot a bird one day and felt horrible about it afterward. I decided I'd only shoot to protect the chickens or if I did shoot something, I had to eat it. (But starlings didn't qualify, the rotten vermin. I had no compulsion against shooting them. Or rats.) Anyway, that's why I strongly believe raccoon tastes better than rockchuck.
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Post by papaof2 on May 17, 2021 22:03:29 GMT -6
In the early days of automobiles = possibly more Model T's than any other because cheap cars sold the most - the cast on your arm was a common badge of car ownership. I'll guess that those people became more careful of the spark advance after the first kickback ;-) Our wood splitter requires a very soft touch. Pull it with fingers loose and let the pull-handle slip away after each pull or else. That sounds like a prime candidate for an electric starter - even just exposing the crankshaft nut and using a battery-powered impact driver to spin it ;-) Makes you wonder if anyone ever analyzed how many broken-arm-while-cranking people bought a vehicle with an electric starter the next time...
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Post by papaof2 on May 18, 2021 21:47:49 GMT -6
If you appreciate the electric starters on vehicles, refrigeration and air conditioning based originally on Freon or the paint colors - other than black - available on vehicles, you might want to read this page: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_F._Kettering
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Post by bretf on May 28, 2021 17:03:21 GMT -6
I referenced a place in the Chad Smoke stories a couple of times I feel a special connection to; Crane Creek Reservoir. I don’t know when I first went there, but I recall going often from when I was about six. Grandpa knew the farmer / rancher at the upper end of the lake. We’d stop in at his house, Grandpa would go talk, then we’d drive down the horrible “road” through the rocks, fields, and sagebrush to our preferred fishing spot.
I have many fond memories of those trips. Normally, we did day trips. But once, we threw a tarp out on the ground and spent the night. No one brought salt, so Dad chipped some off a cattle block. Once, Grandma, my brother, and I were catching fish faster than Dad and Grandpa could clean them and Dad threatened to cut our lines.
After my grandparents passed away, we didn’t go there for many years. Then one day, on a whim, I drove up and found the “official” way in to the lake. I convinced the rest of the family to go there with me, and we’ve been going again, making new memories for a new generation of the family.
My work was a bit slow leading up to the Memorial Day weekend, so I decided to extend my weekend and took two more days off. Thursday, I loaded my canoe and went to the lake. While the public access road goes to the dam on the west end of the lake, we’ve always caught more fish near the east end. In the general area we used to fish with Grandpa. So I thought I’d see how long it took me to paddle to the far end and enjoy a beautiful day on the lake.
It was a picture-perfect day when I arrived. I put the canoe in the water, loaded up, and shoved off. After nearly an hour of leisurely paddling, I decided if I planned on fishing there with the canoe, I needed to look into an electric motor for it.
Still short of my goal, I stopped at a spot I though looked promising. I dropped my anchor, put a night crawler on the hook, and dropped it over the side. In a very short time, I had a bite, and reeled in a decent sized channel cat. I unhooked it, rearranged the worm, and dropped it over the edge. Again, I got a fish right away.
Despite the quick success, I looked across the lake and a knot formed in my stomach. The water that’d been so smooth such a short time earlier was choppy. The canoe was straining against the anchor rope. I reeled in another fish. And then another. It was substantially smaller than the others, so I dropped it back in the lake with encouragement to grow bigger.
I looked out across the water. Uh oh. The heavy chop was now topped by numerous white caps. The fish were biting, but there I was in a canoe, about three miles from my pickup, with the wind pushing in the wrong direction. Grumbling, I decided the prudent thing would be to head back.
The moment I pulled the anchor in, the wind pushed me towards shore. That was okay. I’ve never had the canoe in rough water and was unsure how it would handle. I figured it would be a good idea to walk and pull it along. Yeah, right.
The area where I beached wasn’t the best. I bailed out into hip deep water. That was fine, until I slipped just as a strong gust knocked the canoe against me, and down I went. I struggled up, then proceeded to pull the boat along for a while, and saw the fruitlessness of the endeavor. I beached the canoe and climbed in.
Forsaking the almost comfortable seat, I kneeled in the center and paddled, paralleling the shoreline fifteen to twenty yards out. The canoe handled good and I made great headway, although the effort was nothing like my leisurely paddling on the way to fish. It was hard work, the hardest paddling I’ve ever done. But that wasn’t the worst. It was my knees, kneeling for so long. I rose up and sat on the yoke, testing the stability. The canoe felt okay and the change in position helped, but my knees still protested. So I beached at a good place and walked until I thought I was up to kneeling again.
I had to get out another time, this time when the wind was so strong, I couldn’t make any headway, no matter how hard I paddled. At last I was close to the pickup, and walked the final quarter mile just to limber up.
I loaded up to leave. And despite the hard work and stopping fishing sooner than I planned, I was stoked. It was a challenging day, a learning day. I learned a lot about how the canoe handles in rough water. I learned more about handling the canoe. I had enough fish for supper. And I imagine Grandpa was smiling down at me.
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Post by texican on May 28, 2021 21:21:55 GMT -6
I loaded up to leave. And despite the hard work and stopping fishing sooner than I planned, I was stoked. It was a challenging day, a learning day. I learned a lot about how the canoe handles in rough water. I learned more about handling the canoe. I had enough fish for supper.
Having enough fish for supper even with bad weather is always a great day.
font size="7"]And I imagine Grandpa was smiling down at me. [/font][/b]
Knowing Grandpa is smiling down at you is the icing on the cake.
This is what memories are for.
Thanks Bret.
Texican....
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Post by texican on May 28, 2021 21:35:57 GMT -6
If you appreciate the electric starters on vehicles, refrigeration and air conditioning based originally on Freon or the paint colors - other than black - available on vehicles, you might want to read this page: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_F._Ketteringpp2, The article on WIKI is well worth the time to read. Charles Kettering was an innovative individual and inventor. Mr. Kettering helped to boost the automotive industry. I remember the naming of Kettering University. Thanks pp2. Texican....
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