Part 1 By Tom Bache
Terry and I would see the owner now and then when he visited the farms. He was partially paralyzed from polio, so our child - ish perception was a mix of fascination spiced by a frisson of repulsion at the sight of his braces and wheelchair. But I recall him as a very nice man that Mother and Dad viewed with much affection and respect. Our life on that beautiful farm was idyllic. Summers brought chores – mowing the grass and picking and canning vegetables and fruit to be kept in our large freezer for winter meals. It was also a time for swimming in bordering Fishing Creek, a large tributary of the Susquehanna River. There was a nearby bridge over a broad and deep pool that was popular with families and teenagers. Mother taught Terry and I to swim in that pool. Show-class Angus steers fit well with the farm objectives. Dad was a certified judge for Junior Market Livestock Shows, so he knew what was necessary to excel. Soon after we moved to Magee Farms in 1953, he bred or bought two Aberdeen-Angus calves with bloodlines offering blue-ribbon potential when they reached the Show age. Terry and I began handling these ram- bunctious calves before they reached their first birthday. Terry and I were 10 and 11 and a bit small for our ages. The steers were deep black and very strong. Terry called his Ebony -- a bit obvious for an adult, but an erudite choice for a ten-year old boy. I dubbed mine Zookie. To me, he must have looked like a Zookie. Throughout his short life, Ebony was big, slow-moving, and docile. Zookie was smaller and had a mean-looking head
with a personality to match. Terry loved Ebony. I never trusted Zookie or liked him much. As farm boys, Terry and I did many chores. Some were to help at home (naturally we hated them). Farm work required more muscle than we had yet, and operating farm machinery was too complex or dangerous for young boys. So our most important and productive activity was to raise and train Angus steers to win prizes at Junior-Market County Fair shows in the area. This is the story of that chapter in our lives.
CHAPTER ONE MOLASSES NIGHTS Livestock Shows
In the cold months, the smell of molasses permeated our barn. Terry and I lugged tin buckets from the stove, steam rising as the thick, dark syrup slid into the grain. We poured it into troughs and stirred until the sweetness coated every kernel. Ebony and Zookie pushed at their pens, their eyes wide with expectation. It wasn’t much fun, but necessary to prepare these beasts their purpose: to win prizes County Fair Livestock Shows and then be sold for a good price.
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