Artie Sharp (F)
(11:59) Ms. Sharp describes milking their cow and taking her to graze.Florence-Lauderdale Public Library Digital Archive Interview with Artie Sharp September 20, 2011 Florence, Alabama Conducted by Rhonda Haygood and Patti Hannah (Also present are: Lee Freeman and Mrs. Sharp’s son, Jack Sharp) Cli...
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Florence-Lauderdale County Public Library
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Florence-Lauderdale County Public Library |
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Oral histories -- audios and transcripts |
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Oral histories -- audios and transcripts Artie Sharp (F) Florence-Lauderdale Public Library |
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Oral histories -- audios and transcripts Milking; Cows |
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(11:59) Ms. Sharp describes milking their cow and taking her to graze.Florence-Lauderdale Public Library Digital Archive
Interview with Artie Sharp
September 20, 2011
Florence, Alabama
Conducted by Rhonda Haygood and Patti Hannah
(Also present are: Lee Freeman and Mrs. Sharp’s son, Jack Sharp)
Clip 6
Artie Sharp: Daddy’d say, “Now you go back down there at the cornfield down at the river bottom and you pick up anything you can find. It don’t have to be a big area. Just a little nubbin, just anything we can feed the cow to milk her. And we’d go back down there, see other people was picking up corn besides us. About everybody’d pick up corn. We’re lucky to get two or three good ears after it got on late in the fall. He said, “Put shuck and cob and everything in the sack and get here and Mama’ll chop it up with a ax and feed the cow while she’s milking.” There wasn’t nothing to feed the cow. It’s wintertime. I’d graze her in the summertime. So, I’d go down and pick up every little nubbin I could find and bring it up there and chop it up or Mama would to feed the cow while we, she’s milking. And to go milk, honey, was a nightmare. The cow had a calf. And Mama had to do the milking because Daddy left before daylight going to work. And the calf was a little bull. And you talking about a mean one. He was pretty good size. And to milk—this don’t sound interesting but, to tell you just what it was like to milk. Mama had a little ol’ stool she’d sit on to milk and an old cat was always follow her to milking. And she’d get over here to sit down to milk, you have to milk old cow you got to sit on her right side with your back turned towards her head and you here under her washing her bag getting ready to milk. Well she won’t give the milk down till you go open the stable and let the calf out and let it suck first. She knows what she’s doing. She got to feed that baby first. Well, Mama’d say, “She ain’t gonna let the milk down. We got to go get the calf out and let it nurse first.” Well, we’d go and Daddy made a halter to put on the calf. We’d put the halter on the calf and Mama’d get him by the halter and the ears and I’d take his tail and we’d twist it. He was trying to get to the cow to get all the milk and she was bawling and he was bawling and we’d finally get it out there and when he’d get up there to get hold of the tit, he didn’t want to let go and he’d butt her bag, you know, that was making the milk come down. He’d butt her bag and get all that milk coming down good. Well, Mama said, “The milk’s come down. It’s beginning to stream out. Get him by the tail. We got to put him back in the barn.” And to pull him off of that cow and him hungry and wanting to eat and poor old Mama, she wasn’t a very big person and she’d just wrestle with that calf and with that halter and its ears and him trying to get back to mama to eat again and be twisting his tail and pushing him and finally we’d get him in the barn in the stable and shut him up. Well, Mama’d have a, some water she had to wash the cow’s bag off to where he’d been nursing and wash all that slobber off and then she’d milk and the cream is the last thing to come and if we didn’t get the cream we wouldn’t get no butter and she’d say, “Now, she’s holding up that cream. We’ve got to let that calf back out again to let the milk come back down again before we can get the cream.” And so that old cow knew what she was doing and sometime Mama’d forget and she’d sit on this little old stool and so she set the milk
bucket over here. I had to keep the calf out of it while she was doing that. And she’d set the milk bucket down and the old cow would give a hard kick and over would go the big bucket of milk. And old cow knew we was fixing to go get the calf and we’d have to open up the door and go get the calf and bring it back and get that other milk she was holding up to come down so we could get the cream. Now twice we went through that to milk. And sometimes I’d get sorry for the poor old cat sitting there and meowing and Mama’d take it, the tittie, and excuse me, and she’d squeeze some of that milk in the cat’s mouth and it’d sit there and drink while she was—it was something else. Anyway, that was a way of life. It was horrible. And then spring come. Here was a normal day. After we’d get through milking and Mama’d take the bucket of milk if she saved it and didn’t spill it, she’d go to put it in the house. Now she sent Old Jersey, I got a picture of her right over there, she had big Old Jersey and had big crooked horns and mean horns, looked like one of these, not as big as these Longhorn cattle horn but she had big ferocious horns. And I’d have to put a rope around them horns and I’ve got to go to a old place called Uncle Lex Johnson’s orchard about a half a mile from home to graze her. And under the plum trees and the shade where I could stand it and fill her up. Let her get all she wanted to eat. And the calf’s in the stable way—we lived way up on the hill. I come off Thompson Hill, come to across the road and go to Uncle Lex’s old orchard. And she’d say, “Don’t you bring that cow back here till you get her good and full, now. If you do, that’s just gonna be a mess. She’s got to have all she can eat to do her all day.” Well, about time when her milk come down,
she knew it was time that baby was hungry. And that baby would start bawling up on the hill, we could hear it, and then she’d start listening, she had a bell on and she’d sling that head and she’d listen and she’d hear that baby bawling and she was ready to go home to the baby. Well, here I’m holding on to her and she ain’t done eating yet and I’d get a whipping if I’d bring her home before I filled her up. And when I’d get back home with her, I’d fill her up and I’d go back, take her up that hill home to the Thompson Hill to the barn and Mama’d say, “Now you got to go all the way to the spring,” it’s a half a mile down under the hill, “and water her before you can come in.” And I’m just give out. I’m just so tired. Well, and I’d go and I’m, “Mama, I don’t want to go. You take the cow down under the hill and water it. I’m so tired.” “Get that cow down there and water it. I’m not able to go down under that hill.” “ I ain’t either, Mama. I’m tired.” Well, I’d go on and take her and she’d know where I was going. She’d want to run downhill all the way. And I’d have to run to keep up with her. And she’d get down there and fill herself up with water, calf bawling, well she’d take wanting to run back and going up the hill she’s running and pulling me till we get to the barn. And I’d turn her loose in the lot and I’m gonna tell you something. It was a nightmare. It was a crazy, crazy night-, everyday that was my way of living. Well, one day Mama told me, said, “Take that cow down to Uncle Lex’s orchard and fill her up good now. Don’t bring her back till you get her full.” Well, it was a hot summer day and I’m feeling kindly lazy, you know, and tired. I was always tired. And we done our washing on the rub board and have to carry that water all the way a mile, half a mile out from under the hill and put it in a big kettle and I’m the one that went up on the hill and got the brush to build the fire to put and get the water hot and cut the soap up. We made our own soap, lye soap. And put soap in the kettle and get that ready before Mama’d ever go to the wash place. And then I’d have to dip up water, put in two tubs. You’d have to boil the clothes, rub them on the board and wash them, rinse them twice and then you take them to the house and hang them up. By that time your tongue is hanging out. But anyway that day Mama told me to take the cow down to Uncle Lex’s orchard and fill her up. And I’m so tired and every time the baby cried I had to get up with it. Mama wouldn’t get up. And I didn’t get much sleep. And so I thought, ‘well now instead of just sitting here holding that dumb rope all morning—’, it’d take all morning to fill her up, and nobody to talk to and ol’ lazy bugs swarming and flying around, old bumblebees and it’s so relaxed there in under the shade trees and I’m just getting so sleepy, I thought, ‘Well I don’t know what’s wrong with just tying that to my foot, her rope to my foot and take me a nap. If she starts home, it will wake me up.’ And there’s nothing to it, you know. I was so tired. And I tied it around my ankle and I laid there daydreaming, you know, and I was laying back there like it just—and she’s just grazing away. Had a big long rope and all at once it just went the limit. Something happened, she took off. And she heard that calf bawl. I never thought about that. And she—that calf bawled, she’s going home or you better get out of the way. And before I could raise up to grab my foot to get a hold of the rope, she’s pulling me out the road, driveway. I’m going, headed for the highway. Old Pea Ridge Road. And my dress way up my back and the hide ripping off of my legs and I couldn’t stop her. There was no way I could stop her. She’s full and she’s gone. And so, “What do I do Lord? Lord, help me!” And she’s just bouncing me back and forth, old gravel driveway. I didn’t know what I was gonna do and I said, “God help me. Show me what to do.” My clothes was way up my back and, and I couldn’t stop. Wasn’t nothing to get a hold of in the road. She had me in the middle of the road and I’m just flying headed toward Pea Ridge Road and I happened to look and seen a little ol’ pine sapling there, a pretty good size on, leaning kindly over. And I said, “Only way it’s gonna save me is to throw my body around that pine tree.” And I said, “That’s all that’s gonna save me. I can’t stop her.” She was gonna kill me. When you get out in the main road there’s a sharp curve and if a truck or trailer, lot of trucks running in, log trucks and things and they’d come up through there and I’m going up through there being pulled behind a cow, they’d a killed me. Anyway, I threw myself around that pine sapling and when I done that it checked her and then she stopped. Well, here I’m stuck wrapped around a tree, a bush. Called a sapling and she is trying to get loose to take off home. And I said, “Now, I can’t reach over here, I’m wrapped up close to the tree and to reach the rope, it was wrapped around the tree and I had to pull it back and get me some slack to get it off my foot. Well, I’m tied around this tree. My leg is pulled up to it, barefooted, briar scratches and everything and I kindly kept on pulling and scooting and carrying on till I got up far enough that I could reach over and get a hold of the rope. And I finally got a hold of that rope, it swung back on it and I knew it was up to me to save myself and I swung back on it and got enough slack in it to where I could un-, I had a slip knot around my ankle. You know what a slip knot is. The harder you pull the tighter it gets. And there I was about to break a ankle and I finally raised up enough to get that rope off. It’s all that saved me and I just let her go. “The heck with you. I wouldn’t care what happened to you. Jump in the river as far as I’m concerned.”
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Artie Sharp (F) |
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Artie Sharp (F) |
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Florence-Lauderdale Public Library |
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Florence-Lauderdale Public Library |
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Artie Sharp (F)Milking; Cows(11:59) Ms. Sharp describes milking their cow and taking her to graze.Florence-Lauderdale Public LibraryFlorence-Lauderdale Public LibraryArtie Sharp2011-09-20sound; textaudio/mp3; text/pdfEnglishIs part of the Florence-Lauderdale Public Library collection.Contact the Florence-Lauderdale Public Library for permission to use.Florence-Lauderdale Public Library Digital Archive
Interview with Artie Sharp
September 20, 2011
Florence, Alabama
Conducted by Rhonda Haygood and Patti Hannah
(Also present are: Lee Freeman and Mrs. Sharp’s son, Jack Sharp)
Clip 6
Artie Sharp: Daddy’d say, “Now you go back down there at the cornfield down at the river bottom and you pick up anything you can find. It don’t have to be a big area. Just a little nubbin, just anything we can feed the cow to milk her. And we’d go back down there, see other people was picking up corn besides us. About everybody’d pick up corn. We’re lucky to get two or three good ears after it got on late in the fall. He said, “Put shuck and cob and everything in the sack and get here and Mama’ll chop it up with a ax and feed the cow while she’s milking.” There wasn’t nothing to feed the cow. It’s wintertime. I’d graze her in the summertime. So, I’d go down and pick up every little nubbin I could find and bring it up there and chop it up or Mama would to feed the cow while we, she’s milking. And to go milk, honey, was a nightmare. The cow had a calf. And Mama had to do the milking because Daddy left before daylight going to work. And the calf was a little bull. And you talking about a mean one. He was pretty good size. And to milk—this don’t sound interesting but, to tell you just what it was like to milk. Mama had a little ol’ stool she’d sit on to milk and an old cat was always follow her to milking. And she’d get over here to sit down to milk, you have to milk old cow you got to sit on her right side with your back turned towards her head and you here under her washing her bag getting ready to milk. Well she won’t give the milk down till you go open the stable and let the calf out and let it suck first. She knows what she’s doing. She got to feed that baby first. Well, Mama’d say, “She ain’t gonna let the milk down. We got to go get the calf out and let it nurse first.” Well, we’d go and Daddy made a halter to put on the calf. We’d put the halter on the calf and Mama’d get him by the halter and the ears and I’d take his tail and we’d twist it. He was trying to get to the cow to get all the milk and she was bawling and he was bawling and we’d finally get it out there and when he’d get up there to get hold of the tit, he didn’t want to let go and he’d butt her bag, you know, that was making the milk come down. He’d butt her bag and get all that milk coming down good. Well, Mama said, “The milk’s come down. It’s beginning to stream out. Get him by the tail. We got to put him back in the barn.” And to pull him off of that cow and him hungry and wanting to eat and poor old Mama, she wasn’t a very big person and she’d just wrestle with that calf and with that halter and its ears and him trying to get back to mama to eat again and be twisting his tail and pushing him and finally we’d get him in the barn in the stable and shut him up. Well, Mama’d have a, some water she had to wash the cow’s bag off to where he’d been nursing and wash all that slobber off and then she’d milk and the cream is the last thing to come and if we didn’t get the cream we wouldn’t get no butter and she’d say, “Now, she’s holding up that cream. We’ve got to let that calf back out again to let the milk come back down again before we can get the cream.” And so that old cow knew what she was doing and sometime Mama’d forget and she’d sit on this little old stool and so she set the milk
bucket over here. I had to keep the calf out of it while she was doing that. And she’d set the milk bucket down and the old cow would give a hard kick and over would go the big bucket of milk. And old cow knew we was fixing to go get the calf and we’d have to open up the door and go get the calf and bring it back and get that other milk she was holding up to come down so we could get the cream. Now twice we went through that to milk. And sometimes I’d get sorry for the poor old cat sitting there and meowing and Mama’d take it, the tittie, and excuse me, and she’d squeeze some of that milk in the cat’s mouth and it’d sit there and drink while she was—it was something else. Anyway, that was a way of life. It was horrible. And then spring come. Here was a normal day. After we’d get through milking and Mama’d take the bucket of milk if she saved it and didn’t spill it, she’d go to put it in the house. Now she sent Old Jersey, I got a picture of her right over there, she had big Old Jersey and had big crooked horns and mean horns, looked like one of these, not as big as these Longhorn cattle horn but she had big ferocious horns. And I’d have to put a rope around them horns and I’ve got to go to a old place called Uncle Lex Johnson’s orchard about a half a mile from home to graze her. And under the plum trees and the shade where I could stand it and fill her up. Let her get all she wanted to eat. And the calf’s in the stable way—we lived way up on the hill. I come off Thompson Hill, come to across the road and go to Uncle Lex’s old orchard. And she’d say, “Don’t you bring that cow back here till you get her good and full, now. If you do, that’s just gonna be a mess. She’s got to have all she can eat to do her all day.” Well, about time when her milk come down,
she knew it was time that baby was hungry. And that baby would start bawling up on the hill, we could hear it, and then she’d start listening, she had a bell on and she’d sling that head and she’d listen and she’d hear that baby bawling and she was ready to go home to the baby. Well, here I’m holding on to her and she ain’t done eating yet and I’d get a whipping if I’d bring her home before I filled her up. And when I’d get back home with her, I’d fill her up and I’d go back, take her up that hill home to the Thompson Hill to the barn and Mama’d say, “Now you got to go all the way to the spring,” it’s a half a mile down under the hill, “and water her before you can come in.” And I’m just give out. I’m just so tired. Well, and I’d go and I’m, “Mama, I don’t want to go. You take the cow down under the hill and water it. I’m so tired.” “Get that cow down there and water it. I’m not able to go down under that hill.” “ I ain’t either, Mama. I’m tired.” Well, I’d go on and take her and she’d know where I was going. She’d want to run downhill all the way. And I’d have to run to keep up with her. And she’d get down there and fill herself up with water, calf bawling, well she’d take wanting to run back and going up the hill she’s running and pulling me till we get to the barn. And I’d turn her loose in the lot and I’m gonna tell you something. It was a nightmare. It was a crazy, crazy night-, everyday that was my way of living. Well, one day Mama told me, said, “Take that cow down to Uncle Lex’s orchard and fill her up good now. Don’t bring her back till you get her full.” Well, it was a hot summer day and I’m feeling kindly lazy, you know, and tired. I was always tired. And we done our washing on the rub board and have to carry that water all the way a mile, half a mile out from under the hill and put it in a big kettle and I’m the one that went up on the hill and got the brush to build the fire to put and get the water hot and cut the soap up. We made our own soap, lye soap. And put soap in the kettle and get that ready before Mama’d ever go to the wash place. And then I’d have to dip up water, put in two tubs. You’d have to boil the clothes, rub them on the board and wash them, rinse them twice and then you take them to the house and hang them up. By that time your tongue is hanging out. But anyway that day Mama told me to take the cow down to Uncle Lex’s orchard and fill her up. And I’m so tired and every time the baby cried I had to get up with it. Mama wouldn’t get up. And I didn’t get much sleep. And so I thought, ‘well now instead of just sitting here holding that dumb rope all morning—’, it’d take all morning to fill her up, and nobody to talk to and ol’ lazy bugs swarming and flying around, old bumblebees and it’s so relaxed there in under the shade trees and I’m just getting so sleepy, I thought, ‘Well I don’t know what’s wrong with just tying that to my foot, her rope to my foot and take me a nap. If she starts home, it will wake me up.’ And there’s nothing to it, you know. I was so tired. And I tied it around my ankle and I laid there daydreaming, you know, and I was laying back there like it just—and she’s just grazing away. Had a big long rope and all at once it just went the limit. Something happened, she took off. And she heard that calf bawl. I never thought about that. And she—that calf bawled, she’s going home or you better get out of the way. And before I could raise up to grab my foot to get a hold of the rope, she’s pulling me out the road, driveway. I’m going, headed for the highway. Old Pea Ridge Road. And my dress way up my back and the hide ripping off of my legs and I couldn’t stop her. There was no way I could stop her. She’s full and she’s gone. And so, “What do I do Lord? Lord, help me!” And she’s just bouncing me back and forth, old gravel driveway. I didn’t know what I was gonna do and I said, “God help me. Show me what to do.” My clothes was way up my back and, and I couldn’t stop. Wasn’t nothing to get a hold of in the road. She had me in the middle of the road and I’m just flying headed toward Pea Ridge Road and I happened to look and seen a little ol’ pine sapling there, a pretty good size on, leaning kindly over. And I said, “Only way it’s gonna save me is to throw my body around that pine tree.” And I said, “That’s all that’s gonna save me. I can’t stop her.” She was gonna kill me. When you get out in the main road there’s a sharp curve and if a truck or trailer, lot of trucks running in, log trucks and things and they’d come up through there and I’m going up through there being pulled behind a cow, they’d a killed me. Anyway, I threw myself around that pine sapling and when I done that it checked her and then she stopped. Well, here I’m stuck wrapped around a tree, a bush. Called a sapling and she is trying to get loose to take off home. And I said, “Now, I can’t reach over here, I’m wrapped up close to the tree and to reach the rope, it was wrapped around the tree and I had to pull it back and get me some slack to get it off my foot. Well, I’m tied around this tree. My leg is pulled up to it, barefooted, briar scratches and everything and I kindly kept on pulling and scooting and carrying on till I got up far enough that I could reach over and get a hold of the rope. And I finally got a hold of that rope, it swung back on it and I knew it was up to me to save myself and I swung back on it and got enough slack in it to where I could un-, I had a slip knot around my ankle. You know what a slip knot is. The harder you pull the tighter it gets. And there I was about to break a ankle and I finally raised up enough to get that rope off. It’s all that saved me and I just let her go. “The heck with you. I wouldn’t care what happened to you. Jump in the river as far as I’m concerned.”
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