Short on Foresight, Long on Hindsight

by Pat Stovall of Marysville, MI

Fred, his wife Ann and their seven children, all city born and raised, moved to a small farm in Hillsdale, MI. Among other things like his kids and vegetables, Fred decided to raise cattle. Having little start-up money and even less cattle raising know-how, he went to an auction and bought two very young calves for seven dollars each. Smug over his great bargain, he made a pen for the calves in the barn. It was the beginning of winter and the nights were getting cold. Soon one of the calves sickened and died. He convinced Ann that in order to save the other scrawny calf, he would have to house it in their basement. He erected a make-shift pen, put down lots of straw and had plenty of feed near-by. The calf appeared to be in bovine heaven.

The kids thought it was a great lark to run downstairs and pet the too cute moon-eyed calf. Fred let the kids quibble over a name and most of them agreed that Housey was a suitable name. They ran up and down the stairs gleefully singing, “We have a Housey in our house,” to the tune of Old McDonald Had a Farm.

The downside of all this fun was that since Housey couldn’t be house broken they had to fill buckets with his not so fragrant calf ca-ca and haul it up stairs to the outside. Being raised in the city and petless until this time, they thought it was worth it.

Their friends thought it was pretty zany because all their cows and calves were kept in barns. They had learned not to get too fond of baby critters because eventually they would have to part with them one way or another. Certainly they were taught never to name a farm animal that could one day be turned into your dinner.

Housey continued to eat, to ca-ca, and to grow. The pails became heavier and the kids less ecstatic. Ann became the enforcer of the bucket brigade and soon her patience was wearing thin. Fred convinced her that Housey was a wonderful distraction for the kids through the long winter. He enlarged the pen as needed, pleased with Housey’s expanding height and girth. A fine healthy animal.

They all excitedly welcomed their first spring in the country. The outside air blew fresh as only April air can. The inside air from their basement reeked as only calf ca-ca can.

Ann pronounced one of the few ultimatums of her life. She demanded that Housey be out of the basement or she would be out of the house. Fred realized that he had to act quickly and just as quickly became perplexed as he considered how to get the calf-cow up the narrow basement stairs.

He gathered the older children and with harness and rope in hand proceeded to the basement. Housey accepted the harness but shied at the flight of stairs, determined to steer-clear of them. Then began coaxing and balking, pushing and balking, swearing and balking. Housey acting more bull-headed by the minute.

He called a time-out and the whole family sat on the stairs considering their options. The five year old said, “Daddy, what about the window?” They looked from her to the window. It was about four feet up from the floor, only two feet by three feet, too small to get a calf-cow through.

But Fred saw an out. He grabbed some tools and began knocking out the window and the cement blocks under it. The kids cleared the debris while he began shoveling away the wall of exposed dirt. The opening was large enough but he still had to shovel a sloping path to ground level. He continued on good-naturedly, hoping no one would comment on his lack of foresight that caused all this effort. After three more hours of work, amidst shouts and cheers Housey was led up the slope to be properly housed in the barn. They continued to call him Housey, although one of the kids thought Barney would be a better name. Fred’s friends and neighbors kept the story alive whenever a good laugh was needed.