Before I had been in M---- long I was willing to admit that hitherto I
had seen and heard little of the dark side of life for the dumb
creation.
The doctors rented stalls for us in a big livery barn, usually trying to
keep one or two of us at a time out at the farm on pasture.
At this latter place I learned considerable of the beauties(?) of
country life from our standpoint.
The Stringers were average people, ambitious, but erring in judgment.
They were thoughtless and ignorant, rather than cruel--intentionally
cruel, I mean; but it does not alleviate in the least the pangs of
thirst and hunger, the pain of extreme heat and cold, the tiresomeness
of long continuance in an uncomfortable position, or the woes of a
mother torn from her offspring, to know that carelessness is the cause
of the trouble.
I tell you I used to pity even the chickens on that place, and, in
conversation with other animals, there and elsewhere, I have found that
the Stringers represent the majority of farmers. There are so many what
they call "big things," to attend to, that there is no time for either
attending to dumb creatures' comforts or stopping the small leaks in the
grain sacks.
I am not surprised at all that so many farmers die poor, and so many go
fretting through life declaring that farming don't pay. It will never
pay the great "Stringer" majority.
Speaking of the chickens, I have seen them trailing their wings through
the hot dust, day in and day out, peering everywhere with their anxious
little eyes for one drop of water.
On that farm there was only a well, and the water was drawn by means of
a pole with a hook on the end of it. It was pretty slow, hard work, so
that no animal got all the water it really needed at any time; besides
we are just like "other folks," we need to have water where we can drink
if we are thirsty, not be obliged to gulp down a lot when we don't want
it, simply because we know it is all we will get for hours. Men feed us
things that burn and irritate our stomachs just as salt fish does
theirs. They drink when they are thirsty if that is every few minutes,
but with an equal longing for water we must wait their convenience, if
that is all day.
We are ofttimes sick and feverish, too, just the same as people, but we
can't speak, and so we must endure the torture, after being driven
furiously through the dust and under a pelting sun.
It is terrible to suffer from a burning thirst, but no worse for a man
than for a horse, and no worse for a horse than for a canary bird. We do
not suffer always in proportion to our avoirdupois or mental caliber.
Mrs. Stringer was in the habit of shutting hens up, who differed with
her on the subject of sitting, in boxes or barrels without food or
water, and a good many times she was surprised, after leaving them there
three or more days, to find them dead. A terrible death to die, to all
but literally burn up with "setting-fever," inward thirst and lack of
fresh air.
If I were a man what I am going to say now would be wicked, but I am
only a horse. Well, I have often thought that a place I hear men around
livery barns speak of, said to be heated by fire and brimstone, will
like as not receive many recruits from among ministers and deacons who
have neglected to water and shelter their horses and stock here, and
among the so-called Christian women who let their chickens, especially
setting hens, die of thirst.
People who are so stingy of God's cold water here will know what thirst
means in eternity, or I am mistaken. And the hogs on that farm--how they
beg (squeal) for something cool and clean to drink.
Somebody, who thinks just as the Stringers did, laughs at the idea of a
hog wanting a clear, cool drink. More is the pity! Why, time and again
have the poor swine told me that they only drink swill and such stuff
because nobody ever offered them anything better. They don't mind having
decent swill used to mix their messes with, but they can appreciate a
clean drink as well as a man can. I get out of patience, too, hearing so
much about the "dirty hog," when the poor creature would be clean if he
had half a chance. Of course, his ideas of cleanliness differ from a
dainty maiden's; he enjoys a mud bath, but he will always take clean mud
if he can find it, and he doesn't enjoy wading around in a filthy pen
more than you or I would. Is there anything cleaner or prettier than a
young pig? Take one and give it decent care and surroundings and it will
never disgust you with its filth. The majority of swine are fed on
rotten, putrid things, simply because they are swine.
One blessing, the careless owner of either hog or fowl, who allows it to
eat that which is unclean, will get it all back second-hand if he eats
the creature.
There were not less than a dozen calves in a barren lot on this place,
and I used to actually dread my day out there, because of the ceaseless
bellowing for water kept up by the helpless creatures.
It was the business of the hired man to fill up a tub over in the lot
for their convenience, but there was always "so much to do," and
everybody was in "such a hurry" that it was forgotten or neglected more
often than it was attended to, and then the owner wondered why his
calves were such "scrawny things."
The cows were little better cared for, though they usually got a small
allowance of water once a day. They did not begin to give the milk they
would, had they been abundantly watered, though, and suffered in
proportion. There was one thing that Mrs. Stringer was righteously
diligent about and that was salting them. This would have been most
commendable had there been drink supplied in connection; as it was, it
only augmented their misery.
We horses fared better, because Park was sent out with strict orders to
refill our trough with cold water twice a day. Of course, he did not
always obey, and I suffered enough, long sweltering days, to make me
pity the other creatures that fared worse.
The most trying thing of all would be when, during the day, we--cows,
calves and all--could hear the familiar sound of that well-pole as the
family drew and appropriated the cooling liquid. It did seem they might
understand the bellowing on all sides; but if they did they heeded not.
My master was so busy the first year that he paid little attention to
the farm, but the second summer, toward the end, he had a pump put in
the well. That worked wonders for awhile, and then they grew as
neglectful as ever.
Of course, we did not stay out there much in winter, but were back and
forth sometimes. For my part, I wished I might not go at all, but the
lecture my master gave Mr. Stringer one evening paid me for being
present. It was coming on a cold sleet storm, and his cattle were
huddled on the leeward side of the barn, otherwise unprotected. Their
piteous lowing could not but attract the attention of a man like Dr.
Dick.
"Why did you not provide shelter for them?"
"Hadn't lumber."
"There seems to be a good many boards and pieces of timber going to ruin
around here, and there is all the straw decaying in the field where the
machine left it. You could have built sheds, and any essential that was
lacking we would have provided."
"Well, it don't hurt critters to stand out; it jest hardens 'em."
"I tell you, sir, you are mistaken. All domestic animals need shelter,
clean bedding and plenty of food. They need it, and it is their right.
They furnish you with food and much of the money you have; do they not,
in turn, deserve something? Besides you are defrauding yourself when you
defraud them. The neglected cow will not begin to do as well in the way
of milk and butter as the one that is well cared for. The food she eats
must go to keep her from freezing; it acts in the place of fuel, as it
were, while if you attended to keeping her warm, it would go to make
milk and meat. These are unalterable laws of nature; disregard them and
you pay the penalty, not only here but hereafter. God has promised mercy
only to the merciful."
We went on, then, for the storm was increasing, but a few days after I
noticed that rude sheds were in process of construction, and the straw
was being brought in to help in the work.
I am so glad that my master dares to speak his mind, and yet he never
does it in a way to offend. Any one can see that he feels every word
that he says, and above all he practices what he preaches.
Speaking of the care of cows reminds me of one that used to hang around
the livery stable and pick at the straw that was thrown out from our
bedding; and at night, especially very cold ones, she would come and lie
on the manure pile. Some of the men said it was for the sake of the
little heat in the manure, and they thought she must have a wretched
place at home, and be almost starved into the bargain. I watched my
chance, and asked her about it. She said her owner was quite well off,
but that he looked upon an animal as having no more feeling than a
wagon; indeed, that he took better care of the latter than he did of
her. That she was hungry all the time, and "oh, so cold." She was not
giving milk just then, so they paid no attention to her. She said she
had been in the pound twice, and that was dreadful, but she would as
soon be there as at home.
I guess the pound man thought she belonged at the livery stable until
Park Winters called his attention to the matter, and she was driven off
and I never saw her again.
It seems strange that people can sit down to well-filled tables, knowing
that their animals are starving; and lie in soft, warm beds, knowing
that they are freezing. Master says that for all these things man shall
be brought into judgment, but it don't help the dumb creatures now.