Junior: Friday Fictioneers 3-13-2015

Bessy, our milk cow, rejected her calf, Junior. Every four hours I would give him a huge bottle of milk, and he started thinkin’ I was his mama. He would follow me around the farm like a puppy dog. That cute little calf never got far away from me.

When you own a farm you raise food to eat, that’s the farmin’ way. When Junior got bigger, I had to help lead him to the stock trailer. It was terrible. I couldn’t eat that meat. I’m not a farmer, nor do I raise food. I raise pets and grow food.

(100 words)

Thank you, Sandra Crook, for the photo prompt.

Rochelle Wisoff Fields hosts Friday Fictioneers, a flash fiction challenge. She gives us a photo each week that prompts our stories of 100 words or less. It is fun, addictive, and challenging. If you would like to participate, please click on the link below for more information:

Friday Fictioneers

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103 thoughts on “Junior: Friday Fictioneers 3-13-2015

  1. As a kid, we raised farm animals for meals also. Every now and then we would get to close to one o them for mealtime With my sister,we always told her that we took our cattle to the farm zoos for the children to pet. We bought the mean cattle at the livestock sale that would hurt people and couldn’t live in a children’s zoo. It worked well for her- for a while.

    • How funny. That’s a great idea to tell her that. I cannot raise an animal and then eat it. Never again. Nope! Junior wouldn’t listen to anyone but me and I was the only one that could get him into that trailer. TERRIBLE!! Never again.

  2. Oh, Pj that had to be horrible!! One of my friends lived on a farm and she had a pig named bacon. I freaked out the next year when they tried to serve me bacon from Bacon. I bawled for hours and my mom had to come get new and take me home!! My heart aches for you!!

    • That was a very long time ago but yes, it was hard! I couldn’t eat that meat. How sad for you over Bacon. They should never have told you! I would have been the same way.

  3. Dear Joy,

    My husband and his siblings used to spend summers on their uncle’s farm. He tells a similar story of a calf named Barney. When they teased his sister the following summer calling dinner “Barney burgers” she burst into tears.

    It’s a sweet story. I could see where it would sow seeds or vegetarianism. As is often asked of me, I’m curious as to how you arrived at that story from the prompt.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    • When I looked at the photo prompt it reminded me of the field in front of our farm house. Whenever I think of that field, I think of Junior because he was allowed to run around free in that unfenced field. (We knew he wouldn’t run off). I probably should be a vegetarian but I’m not. I do eat meat but in very small quantities. (And I always thank the animal for giving its life for me to have that meal). I don’t live on a farm anymore and haven’t for many years.

  4. That must be a terrible experience. I couldn’t eat something I’d known either. I love lobster but I couldn’t be responsible for choosing one from a tank in a restaurant to be killed so I could eat it. Yet I do eat pre-packaged meat and fish, whilst admittedly feeling a bit uncomfortable about it. Good story.

    • I eat meat Sandra, I just won’t eat meat I have raised. I haven’t lived on a farm for many years. My experience with Junior happened many years ago. Although I do eat meat, I eat it in very small quantities and I always thank the animal for giving it’s life for me to have that meal. I can understand about the lobster. I wouldn’t be able to do that either. Especially knowing they are boiled alive.

    • This happened many years ago but as you can see, it still has an effect on me. I do eat meat but I don’t eat it in large quantities. I also don’t raise the meat I eat. LOL. And, I always tell the animal thank you for giving its life for me to have that meal. Actually, I “ask” that the animal be thanked.

  5. Awwww, my grandma had a similar story and never ate beef again. That, and she was paranoid of mad cow disease. But that’s beside the point….I like your ‘thanking’ practice. I think it’s a good one!

    • How sweet of your grandmother to completely stop eating beef. I didn’t stop eating beef or stop eating meat. I just don’t raise it to eat. This happened many years ago but it still bothers me about Junior.

  6. Such an awful thing to have to do. We had a couple of pigs when I was growing up, which we called Johann and Sebastian. They disappeared one Easter. It took me a while to work out what had happened to them, at least I didn’t have lead them into the lorry.
    Claire

  7. That’s a hard lesson to learn, that’s for sure. I can’t imagine – it’s hard enough to put down one of our animals because they’re so sick they just can’t live a good life anymore! Well wrought tail. (P.S. I haven’t been able to find your stories the last two weeks – so if I haven’t commented ….)

    • Yes they do. I hope she gets less frightened. Something must have happened to scare her. My little dog is afraid of the sound of the rain on the roof, thunder, when the ice melts from the eaves of my home and falls to the ground, fireworks, and the sounds my home alarm makes when I am setting it. When she is afraid, she runs for cover under my kitchen chair. I spend a lot of time at my kitchen table because the chairs are more comfortable for me to sit on (I have a bad back).

        • Yes, it was heartbreaking. Junior was no longer a calf when he was butchered and had been out in the pasture with all the other cattle, but still, I had that bond with him. I feel sorry for the kids in 4H that raise calves, lambs, ect. from babies to adults and have to take them to the fair to be sold and then butchered. I couldn’t do that, especially after what I experienced with Jr.

          • 4H is an agriculture club for boys and girls. It focuses on farm life. Farming and ranching (agriculture and animals) for the boys and home related activities for the girls, like quilting, cooking, canning, ect. Both the boys and girls are involved in raising animals from them being a baby (lambs, piglets, calves, bunnies…) to being taken to the fair then being auctioned off to be butchered.

          • I was thinking the same thing when I was typing the comment to you. I am sure that has changed quite a bit over the years though. What I told you was how it was many years ago. I’m sure that it isn’t quite so stereotypical anymore.

  8. So sad. My mother told similar stories, she lived on a farm and helped raise and care for the pigs, they loved her. And then she had to hand them over to the butcher…

  9. This story broke my heart. It reminded me of a time my father took my cat away from me and gave her to someone else, so he said. Never believed that. Sorry you had to experience that with Junior.

  10. The process of how we get our food could be overwhelming if we think about it. I’m not a big meat eater because of my thoughts on the process of getting the meat to the table. I’ve never eaten lamb because of the bible reference.
    I would imagine living on a farm and getting attached to an animal could be even more devastating. Good story about what happens when you live on a farm. Emotionally powerful.
    Isadora
    p.s. I noticed a great many responses to your story. Do you read a lot of the entries or is it that you post your story early? I don’t seem to attract more than a few. Thanks for answering in advance. ๐Ÿ˜Š

    • Are you a fairly new blogger? Have you ever taken any of the classes (free) that WordPress gives? If you are a new blogger or have not taken any classes, then you probably don’t know many people on WordPress. Taking classes gives you the opportunity to meet many new people. Find blogs that you would enjoy reading and follow them, and comment on their posts. The more you interact with people, the more friends you will make. Sometimes it takes a venue like one of their classes to meet a lot of people. I have taken several of their classes plus I have been blogging since November 2013. That is the reason for the difference.

  11. I was raised on a dairy farm. My job was bucket-feeding the calves. I remember one I named Whitey who I trained to ride–although they don’t make a very good pony. The poor guy wound up at the sale barn. After a while, you learn not to become too attached to the animals.

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