Let’s Go Swimming

Thanks to April for today’s cow picture. Notice that these cows are not swimming...

Let’s Go Swimming! (12 July 2019)

Today’s story is set to the theme of one of our favorite songs, “Let’s Go Swimming” by Laurie Berkner. Unlike the goldfish in that song, and unlike your mother who spent many of her growing up summers swimming in the river, I was not much of a swimmer in my youth.

You might remember that I dreamed of turning the manure pit into a swimming pool when it was first constructed. That didn’t happen, but I would occasionally go “swimming” with my brothers in the pond on our property. My mom never liked us swimming in the pond. It may have been the fact that we didn’t know how to swim, or it may have been the plethora of bacteria that I now realize must have been in that pond. There’s probably a reason that people put chlorine in pools… and don’t let cows poop in them… 

Nonetheless, one of our favorite things to do in the pond was to wrap the pond moss around us so that we would have enough buoyancy to float. I remember thinking how wonderful life was floating lazily in the pond on a warm summer day… watching the bugs crawl around in the moss wrapped around our bodies.

I probably could have done without the bugs, but they weren’t so bad. The good news is that unlike the stream leading to the pond, the pond had no leeches (I think that leeches require fresh moving water). I never did get real comfortable with leeches suctioning onto my ankles as often happened when I waded in the stream. They were kind of unsettling...

I do have good memories of swimming with my family at Lava Hot Springs. My parents tried to take us there each summer to swim and then stop at a park to eat a picnic that my mom prepared. Getting away from the dairy to go to Lava was a significant operation. The two milkers had to start early in the afternoon to be done by around 5 so we could get to Lava in time for a couple hours of swimming before the pool closed. Meanwhile, the rest of us had to hurry and feed the cows and calves, move the pipe, and finish the rest of the daily chores by that same time. The problem was that if anything went wrong, as was so often the case- if a pipe broke, the cows got out, or we were just too slow- the trip would be cancelled. I remember being very disappointed when that happened.

I did learn to sort of swim as I got older thanks to a scoutmaster that taught me a basic swim stroke. He taught me to lean to my side with my head above water and make a motion like I was picking apples with my hands while simultaneously scissor-kicking my feet.  I earned my swimming merit badge thanks to this stroke, even though I was certainly the slowest scout to swim required distance. 

I made much more progress after I married your wonderful mother. Ya’ll would’ve been so proud of Wayne, Lyle, and I swim-racing back and forth in the pool at the center of the Liberty Square apartment complex as Marci taught us how to swim. One of the million side blessings that came from marrying Marci!

But the greatest swimming achievement goes to the cows. I distinctly remember the day when five cows managed to do what I only dreamed of doing… they went “swimming” in the manure pit! It was not uncommon for cows that got out to wander into the manure pit. They would step further and further into the filth until they became completely stuck. Eventually the cow would discover her dilemma and start bellowing and making a lot of noise. At that point, we would start a rescue operation to get the cow out of the manure pit. The severity of the situation depended on how deep the cow had managed to make it into the pit, but it was always a lot of work.  We almost always had to use our tractor to help pull, lift, or pry the 1500-pound cow out of the manure pit.

The sides of the manure pit were made of reinforced concrete about one foot thick. Apparently, that was not thick enough because over the years, the pressure from the manure inside the pit caused the walls to start cracking and even bulge out in several locations. To solve this problem, my dad used the tractor to push a large amount of dirt around the sides of the pit, pushing it firmly in place to help support the sides from breaking any further. That worked great, but we soon found out that it also made a nice ramp!

One day as we were sitting down for dinner, our neighbor called to let us know our cows were out. We left our dinner to get cold, and ran to gather the cows. As my brothers and I were trying to round up the cows, we watched in horror as five cows broke through the fence at one side of the manure pit, climbed the ramp of dirt, and jumped directly into the side of the pit. The cows were all in a very dangerous situation, but four of them were in areas where the manure was fairly thick, so they were sinking quite slowly. However, the manure at the deepest end had been mixed with water and was soft enough that the cow that jumped in there was sinking quickly. It was a huge and urgent operation to rescue that cow.

By the time the tractor was in position and we had grabbed the “hip-lift”, we had to dig in the manure with a shovel to get to one of the cow’s hips.  We tightened the hip-lift apparatus on the cow’s hips, attached it to the chain connected to the bucket of the tractor, and started to lift. I watched in horror as the cow’s weight, plus the suctioning power of the manure, proved to be too much and the hip-lift raked across the cow’s hips and snapped into the air. We tried again and again, tightening the hip-lift so tight we worried about breaking the cow’s bones. But each time it would slide off the cow.

Meanwhile, the cow continued to sink until only her hips and her face were above the manure. We fastened the hip-lift again, tightened it as much as we possibly could and started to lift. I watched in horror as the cow’s nostrils descended below the manure, letting out a few bubbles as they went. My dad also saw this and started yelling to my brother that was manning the tractor to “Pull! Pull! Pull!”. The tractor lifted, pulled, and seemed to mostly drag this cow over the edge of the manure pit. I watched in amazement as the tractor dragged that manure-covered cow until her nose reappeared above the manure, then over the edge of the pit, and down the slope. Once we took the hip-lift off the cow, we watched as this slightly-stunned cow got up and wandered away, probably not realizing how close she came to drowning in her own poop.

So, to paraphrase the words of Laurie Berkner, let’s go swimming, let’s go swimming, but not in the manure pit...