​One of the many blessings my five siblings and I experienced growing up on our farm was our horse, Major. We spent days with Major and he was a great source of entertainment for all of us. Like most animals, Major had a personality all his own. He knew how to get his way without ever hurting us.
Major was a racehorse before he came to the Maxwell farm. Though he had been burned in a trailer fire and was unable to race, his bloodlines and persistent attitude made him the challenge champion of the neighborhood. Many neighbors and friends came over to see if their horse could best Major, but none ever prevailed. Through all the years, Major never lost a race.
     Major was often tethered in our apple orchard. When Major grew tired of his location, he would yank the stake out of the ground and run with his head to the side so he wouldn’t trip himself on the chain. When he was thirsty, rather than drink out of his water tub, he would trot to the hydrant, use his head to turn it on and then proceed to get an icy cold drink. As clever as he was, however, Major never would turn off the hydrant when he was done! Many times the driveway would be drenched in water because Major left the hydrant on. The ducks, of course, loved the swampy driveway and always took the opportunity to frolic in the mess Major had made.
     When Major tired of having someone on his back, he would find a tree with a low branch and squeeze himself under it, knocking the rider to the ground. He would then proceed to turn around and look at the rider, as if to say, “What are you doing down there?” When the rider tried to remount, Major would spin in a circle or take a few quick steps, making it impossible to get on. When Major was tired of being ridden, that was it for the day. No amount of coercion or persistence would change his mind.
     Sometimes we would ride Major to our aunt and uncle’s house a quarter mile up the road. Major would be trotting along, sometimes with two or three of us on his back, then stop suddenly with the riders all tumbling forward over his neck to the ground. If we stayed longer than Major wished, he would untie himself and head for home, leaving us to walk back.
     Major was one of the many benefits my siblings and I enjoyed from growing up on a farm. Another benefit was eating from the fruits of our labor, dining on farm fresh food every day. You too can partake in our farm’s harvests by visiting our Country Cupboard Store and choosing from our many offerings, including beef, cheese, pork, eggs, and baked goods. We hope to see you soon!

This article appeared in the February Issue of 50+ Lifestyle Magazine    
    I grew up on a farm in the 1970s where we had beef and dairy cattle, hogs, sheep, horses, dogs, cats, ducks, and chickens. In the chicken house, there was a large flock of hens and a couple of roosters. One of the banty roosters we named Rooster Cogburn, after the character played by John Wayne in the movie True Grit. Like Wayne’s character, the gritty rooster had spunk and was a non-conforming spit fire. Rooster was also the barn yard bully. He would attack anyone and everyone daily. Rooster typically would go from pen to pen, harassing every animal on the farm. It was not unusual to see Rooster riding on the back of a cow, perched on a cow stall, dive bombing a cat, or scratching in a pig feeder to find the best kernel of corn.
     While I was milking the cows, one of my favorite things to do was harass Rooster by squirting him in the face with milk right from the cow. He would look around very indignantly, trying the find the source of the annoyance. Of all the animals on the farm, Rooster probably harassed the ducks the most. There was a mud puddle, about the size of an automobile, in the middle of the barn yard. The ducks would spend most of their days in and out of that mud puddle. Our flock of ducks consisted of 3-5 hens and one drake, whom we called Duke. In the spring we would have 10-20 ducklings in our flock as well. Duke was the man in charge of his ladies. On this particular day, Rooster was being extra obnoxious, especially to the ducklings. Finally, Duke had enough. He grabbed Rooster by the nap of the neck and dragged him in the mud puddle and proceeded to stomp him into the mud until Rooster’s entire body was buried. As if he’d said “uncle,” Rooster was finally let go by Duke. Rooster got out of the water, shook himself off and ran back to the chicken house. From that day forward, the ducks were off limits to Rooster. Finally Rooster had met his match.
     Cinnamon Ridge offers many great items fresh off our farm at our Country Cupboard Store, including farm fresh eggs. Our website is www.tourmyfarm.com

     The article was our January submission to 50+ Lifestyles magazine. I hope you enjoy.
     The house was painted. The trees were trimmed. The lawn was immaculate. My mother’s hard work over the last year to prepare our farm for my sister’s wedding reception had paid off. The result of her saving flower seeds and planting bulbs was simply beautiful. Our farm had never looked this good—even the plant colors were coordinated with each other. On my sister’s wedding day, the flowers were a symphony in bloom. My mother could look around after the guests had left and breathe a deep sigh of satisfaction.
     The day after the wedding, my parents traveled six hours to the groom’s reception in Northwest Iowa, leaving my older brother and me behind to care for the farm in all its radiance for several days.
“The pigs are out!” This wake-up call from my brother the next morning lurched me out of bed in a hurry. “Quickly close the gate to the front road so we can contain them in the farmyard.” I rushed out, half dressed, and shut the gate in the nick of time. OK, at least they were contained: 400 hogs now having the run of the place. But two hours later, we still had had no success in corralling them back into their pen.  Frustrated and caked with sweat and grime, my brother and I stopped to regroup and catch our breath.  Then my brother had a marvelous idea: “Let’s lock them out! They will beg us to get back in because they will be so thirsty!!” Being the younger brother with shorter legs and likely to get some of the most unpleasant tasks, I thought this was a fool-proof plan. Just the thought of the pigs waiting at the gate, desperate to be let back in where they belong, made my tired self gleeful with delight.
     We woke up the next morning to the sound of thunder, followed by the whoosh of heavy rain. It took us a little while to connect the dots; having the pigs beg us to get in now didn’t seem very plausible. Instead of the pigs being thirsty, they were hungry, and they soon discovered the best source of food available was my mother's hard-earned, carefully planted roots and bulbs in the garden. In no time at all, the hogs turned the yard and flower garden upside down as if we had gone in with a plow. To add insult to injury, they created a big wallow right in the center of the flower garden. Of course, we knew we were in big trouble. But what could we do? Well, we set out after milking to put them into their pen. But now, the pigs were enjoying their new-found freedom (and scrumptious eats) and were even more difficult to put away. Finally by nightfall, six hours later, we saw the last of the 400 hogs waddle back into their pen. But, of course, the clouds were still darkening...  Neither one of us got a lot of sleep that night because mom and dad were scheduled to arrive the next day.
     When our parents drove up, immediately the farm became like a crime scene, complete with interrogating and arresting the criminals. Between our father really putting the verbal squeeze on and my mother crying, we felt like we had dug ourselves into a hole we would never see the end of. We spent months doing on farm service projects, including restoring the lawn and flower garden. Still to this day, I look at the carefully planted flowers on my own farm, and I remember the day the pigs got out.
     Thanks to everyone who stops by the Country Cupboard Store on our farm in rural Donahue.  When the flowers planted around the store bloom this spring, perhaps they will remind you of this story and bring a smile to your face. We sell many items off our farm, including pork.