The Writer's Pen

My earliest memories of the farm always involve livestock. There were always chores to do, no matter what time of the day or what day of the week. The earliest chore I remember was washing disks for our cream separator. I was 5 years old and my sister, Darlene, was my boss since she was 6. We were supposed to use hot water, but we waited for the water to cool off so we wouldn’t burn our hands. By the time we got done, I don’t think there was enough hot water to kill any germs.

My brother, Glen, and I were less than a year apart in age. Together we learned how to tie our shoes, ride our bikes, shoot BB guns, mow the lawn and ride on equipment pulled by horses driven by our dad and grandpa. We would ride with them as they spread manure and hauled loads of hay or corn home from the fields. We “helped” when the men came to thresh oats, and enjoyed large dinners and lunches with them. We slept well at night and woke the next morning ready for another adventure.

My dad and grandpa were among the last farmers to use horses. I remember helping my dad hitch a team when I was about 5 years old, and after getting slapped in the face by a horsetail, I never helped again. Shortly after that the horses were sold and my dad bought another tractor to do the work the horses had done. I think it was a bittersweet day for everyone when the horses were loaded on a truck and hauled away. Gone were the days of hollering at horses when their wagons were being loaded. Now it required starting a tractor, putting it in gear and driving ahead a few feet. On the bright side, though, tractors didn’t slap you in the face with their tails.

Horse sense is a term synonymous with common sense, or good judgment. It could also be said that being astute, wise or shrewd is showing horse sense.

Consider the horse: They work hard when they need to, eat and drink when they get a chance, and sleep standing up in order to be ready at a moment’s notice. I’ve seen horses standing in a field all facing the same direction. Without using a weather app, I can immediately determine which way the wind is coming from and how hot or cold it is outside.

As a farm boy, I didn’t always use good judgment and often learned life’s lessons the hard way. Glen and I spent a lot of time working and playing together, and even though we approached things differently, we usually covered for each other if there was a problem. One time Glen and I decided to cook hotdogs over an open fire, pioneer style. It didn’t matter that pioneers didn’t know what hotdogs were, one noon we asked our mom if it would be alright to build a small fire in the grove to cook our meal. She gave us some food and matches, and a stern warning about being careful. We gathered sticks to make a fire, but couldn’t seem to get them burning. Glen decided a little gasoline might help, so he dumped some on the sticks. I lit a match, and immediately the gas ignited the sticks and burned my face. My wounds weren’t serious, and we came up with a story that didn’t mention gasoline.

Another time, Glen and I took some of our dad’s rifle shells. Dad felt that we were too young to shoot his rifle, but we were tired of our BB guns. We set up a target range consisting of tin cans and rocks. We set the rifle shells on the rocks and hit them with a hammer trying to shoot the cans. All was fine until one of the shells backfired and went into Glen’s knee. We weren’t able to get the shell out with our jackknives, so we put a band aid on his knee, and dreamt up another story.

I’m not sure if horse sense is something you’re born with or something you acquire as you get older. I had good role models as a child, as my parents were hard-working Christian people. Both of my grandfathers would come around our farm, not only to help my dad, but to teach their grandkids some practical skills. I was in awe of the way Grandpa Brockshus could splice a rope and impressed by how quickly Grandpa Hembd could dress out a chicken. Both were skills they had learned out of necessity.

I often wonder where I would be today without the role models I had as a child. I also wonder if our country would be different today if people in leadership roles had started out riding on horse-drawn wagons and spending time on farms learning practical skills. Using good judgment, being astute, wise and shrewd can take on different meanings for different people. I’m not sure if there is any horse sense used in any of the bills or actions in our legislature today. But, I believe that horse sense can be just as valuable after the fact, especially if something was learned by the experience.

Roger Brockshus and his wife, Rita, live in Spirit Lake. They both spent their youth on farms near Ocheyedan. They are mostly retired now, and spend time with their children and grandchildren when schedules allow.