Old farm machinery in action, (my father did all these jobs)

Even though I was never a farmer in this life, I was born with farming in my blood.

I would be a hobby-farmer (no kill), and I would cherish waking each morning to the sound of roosters.
 
Even though I was never a farmer in this life, I was born with farming in my blood.
I would be a hobby-farmer (no kill), and I would cherish waking each morning to the sound of roosters.
You've got to toughen up a little or else a farm full of geriatric animals producing next to nothing awaits you, and what fun is there in that, (keep a gerbil instead! 👩‍🌾👨‍🌾).
 
You've got to toughen up a little or else a farm full of geriatric animals producing next to nothing awaits you, and what fun is there in that, (keep a gerbil instead! 👩‍🌾👨‍🌾).
My great uncle and aunt owned a hobby farm, and that's my kind of farming.

Killing, slaughtering, butchering, it's never been for me. I don't even like seeing wild game that my husband bags when hunting, though I have on many occasions helped cut and wrap wild meat.
 
I was born on a farm in NE Colorado, in 1942. My folks raised Sugar Beets. We moved to Denver when I was about 6 years old, so my "farm" memories are fairly few. I do remember a horse barn....my Dad may well have plowed, etc., with horses. He got a deferment from the draft, because farmers were deemed "essential" for feeding the nation during wartime.
 
We never had horses but we used some horse-drawn equipment that had been modified to use with tractors.
I really enjoyed this little video.

This photograph was taken only five years ago, and yours truly was responsible for making the haycocks, or "hobbles" shown, (my mate who was used to big machines as a farm contractor was appalled when I dragged him in to help, and with no skill he was virtually useless!):

SV201182.JPG
 

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