Mother Nature Calls

Poison ivy produces urushiol to protect the pl...

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If you are a little squeamish over the term “cow poop” or get excitedly upset at the declasse  and somewhat gauche discussion about bodily functions in polite conversation…stop now. This is a story about peeing on the farm.

Yes, I know it is a strange topic to come back to after so long an absence, but I felt the urgent need (pardon the pun) to talk about it, after a brief discussion about farm men today.

Mike once told me when I first visited the farm, “If you see a guy standing still and away from everyone with his hands on his hips, don’t look.” Which of course made me look the first time it happened. Oops, bad move. Seems farm guys find it inconvenient to run to the house when their daily or hourly liquid intake decides to become an outgo. They find a comfortable place (that is, one not covered in poison ivy and close by) and let it go like a firehose. If there are people around, no problem, the truck or truck door will act as a urinal door just as well.

Women on the other hand, don’t come equipped with an anatomy that allow for such, uh, convenience. Therefore, when you are out in the middle of a field working with the guys and you have to do what you have to do, you better have a large bladder (what my mom used to call a 500 mile bladder, because my dad never stopped on a road trip until he’d logged 500 miles), have absolutely no modesty, or find a place of privacy. That, of course, can be a problem. Say you hop on over to the fence row where there is a nice little thicket of bushes and underbrush…have you looked for snakes? Are there ticks, mosquitos, or chiggers to worry about? What about poison ivy, poison oak, poison sumac or blackberry thorns, thorny locust trees, or animal dens?

Yeah, it could end up being a trip you wish you absolutely did not HAVE to take!

When I’m working with Mike and necessity calls, I chose the barn for liquid release. Seems less to worry about trying flood out a “gopher hole” as Caddyshack calls it, than getting nipped on the backside by a previously unseen critter. But even that is not without its problems.

Like a dog that circles before making a deposit on your city neighbors lawn, you seek out a perfect place: fairly level so the flood downhill doesn’t end up on your shoes, clear of obstuction that might hender its absorption into the dirt floor, and private, of course. Now you take your stance. None of this standing with your hands on your hips stuff for you. Oh, no! You have to stand with your feet wide enough apart to allow a downward stream that lands anywhere but your legs. Check. Now, you need to decide which way to turn. Do you want to face towards the door so you can see someone coming in, or is it best to turn your backside away and hope if you don’t see them, it won’t matter that they see you in a full moon shot? Don’t like your direction? Turn around…yep, dogs have it right.

Ok…you are situated again and ready to “drop your drawers.” Uh-huh…now you need to decide just how far to bend your legs. Might not be a bad thing for all those sweet young things out there, but at my age, getting up can be far worse than getting down…might need to move closer to a hay wagon or something that can be used to push up on. Oops, it’s across the barn. Start over, level area. Check. Positioned according to barn door. Check. Foot stance. Check. Squat-lifter. Check. Who knew it could be so much work?

So now you realize that you cannot let loose of that first tinkle quite yet. The crotch of your britches is in your way. Hmm. Do you pull the crotch forward, backward, slip a leg out, take the britches off entirely until you are done? Oh, wait…where’s the tp? There is none, this is after all a barn, and barns come neither with porcelain pots nor tissue dispensers, let alone a place to wash your hands. What now?

You really, really need to go…so you decide to take your chances, push the crotch forward, and drip dry. It’s not like you can lift one leg into the air and yell out, “Hey, Mike open those shutters wider. I need a good breeze in here to blow dry!”

Ah, but I digress…I mean, ahhhhhhhhhhhh, it feels so good after so many hours! You finish and start to stand back up to adjust your clothing. Whoops, forgot about that extra weight you gained that now makes you top heavy, huh? Watch it! You almost took a header face-first into the spot you just watered!  But you finished, your safe, your shoes are only a little wet, and no one will notice the wet spot in your crotch. Emerge triumphantly, you went in a city-girl and came out a country-girl! I don’t recommend any whoots or fist twirls on your way back to the field, though. They already wonder what took  you so long.

By the way, your pay was docked, too.

About cattlebaroness

I am a graduate of the University of Kentucky with a BA in History, nearing completion of a Master of Arts in American history. Born and raised first on military bases around the world, then in Orange County, CA, I moved to Kentucky when my children were small. I now live on a small family farm and am learning about farm life, planting and our newest addition to the landscape--cattle. Until a month or two ago, all I knew about 'cows' were that they came in brown, black and white and that some are raised for milk and others for meat. I am a quick study out of necessity.
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