My mothers father, Alois Matzner was born in the village of Zottig, in the province of Schliesen, in Prussia. It is located within the Czechoslovakian border now, and “Zottig” can no longer be found on a map. It is now part of the village (or city) of Sadek.
The Matzners claimed German descent, but the family lived at #33 Zottig for many generations. There is a story told within the family, that many years in the past, a Matzner had worked as a gardener for a Kaiser in Prussia. The Kaiser’s only son fell in the river and would have drowned had the gardener not jumped into the river and rescued him. The Kaiser was infinitely grateful and wanted to give the gardener a reward. The gardener was uncomfortable about that because he would have saved anyone’s child in the same situation. The Kaiser was not to be deterred, so he gave Mr Matzner a piece of farmland that became known as #33 Zottig. Because they had become land owners, the Matzner became part of the upper class.
The family property was passed down from generation to generation Many generations later, Alois Matzner chose to marry Anna Schober, but because her father was a shoe maker, his family did not approve as they considered her to be beneath their social status. They opposed the relationship strongly but Alois knew he loved her and married her without their blessing. In those days the oldest son inherited the family property and when Alois’ father died Alois inherited #33 Zottig, with the provision that his mother and sisters would still live there and he would have to look after them.
The family never did accept that marriage and did everything they could to make it difficult, so difficult in fact, that in the end Alois relinquished his inheritance to his mother and sisters and moved Anna and the children to Reittendorf, another town about 50 miles away. . Alois worked on a farm there, but in time moved back to Neusstadt, which was closer to his family. He soon realised that he could not live anywhere near his family. Eventually he decided to seek new opportunity and came to Canada in 1912 to get a job so he could save enough money for the fare for his family. He sent for them as soon as he could and Anna Matzner made the long voyage on the ship called Cassandra arriving in Canada in October 1913 in Montréal.
She and the children took the train across the prairies to Saskatchewan. When she got to Clarkboro she gathered up her children and got off the train like she was told to do. No one was there to meet her. It must have been very frightening for her to get off of that train in a strange country, not knowing anyone, with only the hope that her husband would be there to meet her. Alois arrived a short time later, with a horse and steel wheeled wagon. He was wearing a pair of coveralls and working man’s clothing, and at first she did not recognize him.
But when she did, she was so happy to be together with him again. They hugged and embraced each other, and he spent some time getting to know his children again. I am sure she had many as scary stories to tell him about her journey across the ocean on that boat with those three small children. Alois junior was the youngest child; just a baby. My mother was about 7 years old, and her brother Joe was about a year and a half older than her. They were poor, but they were together.
That first winter they spent living in the upstairs of a friend’s house. Alois had found a piece of property right close to his friends place, but it did not have a house on it. In the spring with the help of some of his neighbours, he found a building that would serve as their home and moved it onto his property. This was a far cry from what they were used to living in Austria but it was their own place.
Anna had developed rheumatoid arthritis after her children were born. By the time she arrived in Canada it was much worse and it wasn’t long before she could only walk by using a chair for support as she pushed it around the room. She looked after her children the best that she could until she could no longer walk and take care of them. She was hospitalized in the City Hospital in Saskatoon for the summer months because Alois worked away from home then. This was very expensive, so she was transferred to North Battleford, Saskatchewan, quite a long ways from her family and loving husband. It must have been just devastating for her to be there all alone. Because it was not easy for Alois to go that far to visit her with his young family, I am sure she became very lonely, not knowing what was going to happen to her next, or if she would ever be with her family again.
It was costing him more for her to stay there than the money that he had. In the end he basically mortgaged his land in order to give her the necessary hospital care until she passed away. I sometimes wonder if her passing was caused from her loneliness and a broken heart as much as the disease.
In order to pay the bill, they took his land from him. When it came time to bury her, the church wanted money that he did not have so she was buried outside of the proper Catholic grave yard, in the overflow area on the other side of the hedge It saddens me just to think of the hardship those people went through to the point that words can not explain. He did not have enough money to pay for the children’s fare, so they were not at their mothers’ funeral…
My mom told me that after not having a very good summer, there was not enough money after the harvest to buy all the necessities for the family, they did without a lot of things. She told me about having only one pair of shoes to wear, and they were saved for when they went to school. The rest of the time they went barefoot. In the fall of the year when there was lots of frost on the ground it was really cold to run barefoot, and when they went to bring in the cow to milk in the morning before they went to school they would stand in the warm cow pies to warm their cold feet. After all the chores were done and they were all cleaned and washed up they would run to school. There were days when all they had to eat was homemade noodles and sauerkraut.
That did not last too long, because grandpa Matzner was a very hard working and determined man, and soon he was able to provide better comfort and more food for his family. At a very early age the children learned what it was like to have responsibility to keep the house and do the chores while grandpa worked away from home, to provide a better income for his family.
When my mom was bigger and strong enough, at harvest time she would work with her step sister to do the stooking while grandpa cut grain with a binder. My mother worked hard on the homestead all through the years when she was growing up. Eventually when she was a young adult she left to go to work away from home. She worked as a maid or house keeper and for many years most of what she earned was sent home to help the family there…
My fathers parents,Grandpa and Grandma Antypowich came to Canada in 1904. The stories that have been passed down to me were that my grandpa was born in an area known as White Russia (an area in Poland). Because of all the warring that happen in the general area at that time, you could have been Polish at one time, and a Russian or Romanian the next time, depending on who won the war. I believe Grandma was born in the Ukraine. Because of all of the turmoil in that part of the country I’m not too sure just what part they had been living in before they came to Canada. I know they talked of the Ukraine, and a place called Kiev.
Grandpa was a tall slender man six feet tall, but although I have pictures of him and grandma, my memories of grandpa are very vague. Everyone in the family says he was a calm, gentle man who got along with all his children and was well liked. He was apparently a hard worker and would think nothing of walking for miles to get necessities. When we visited with Donny and Kathy Matzner in 2011, Donny told us that his father, Alois Jr., told them about Grandpa Antypowich packing a big bag of flour home on his back from North Battleford, Saskatchewan, to the homestead, which would have been close to 100 miles. That is unbelievable!
I believe Joseph and Helen Antypowich came to Canada by boat, along with their seven children, arriving in Montréal on a ship called the “Halifax” in 1904. From there, I believe they took the train to Winnipeg Manitoba, where grandpa bought a horse, harness, a wagon and a milk cow, and a few other supplies like flour, salt, sugar, lard, tea, and a small rifle and some ammunition so he could shoot grouse and rabbits along the way. They may have bought some cooking utensils, and I am sure that he bought other necessities, like an axe, hammer, saw and nails. He bought a bag of wheat and a bag of oats so he could grow his own crop when he reached his destination at what would be his homestead and his first piece of land in Canada.
They made a shade to protect them from the hot sun out of small young poplar trees that they could nail to the side of the wagon box and shaped it in a half circle. They covered them with their blankets. Grandma and the younger children slept in the wagon box, while grandpa and the older boys slept on the ground under the stars.
They encountered Indians that were out hunting on the prairies. Grandma described them as lean, but muscular young man that never wore any shirts, just leggings and moccasins; they wore their hair in long braids, and carried bows and arrows. Some had a spear and knives as well. They were very well tanned. Grandpa could not understand their language, and of course, neither could the Indians understand his, so they used sign language to communicate. When the Indians were asking them for food grandpa would draw his stomach in to make it look like he was thin and then he rubbed it and pointed at his mouth. He was trying to tell the Indians he was hungry. And then he pointed at his children, and then sucked in his stomach again to tell them that they were hungry also. Can you imagine how scary that must have been to not be able to even talk properly to them when you knew how vulnerable you could be if they decided to be unfriendly?
They set out into the unknown to cross the prairies. They fought the on going battle with mosquitoes, horse flies, black flies and deer flies and at times it must have been almost unbearable. They crossed creeks and rivers and bounced the wagon over rocks and rough trails. Grandma was pregnant and for a lady that was heavy with child that must have been a torturous and miserable journey.
They gave the Indians some tea and sugar. Grandma said they were not threatening them in any way but were a scary bunch. And I could imagine that they had heard stories of some of the things that had happened to other early pioneers and were very afraid for their lives. Grandma said it was frightening to hear the coyotes howling at night when they camped out on the open prairies. They saw a lot of animals, mainly deer and antelope, but they would be too far away to shoot with the small rifle. She said when they stopped to have their supper they would make a small fire from the dry grass and burned the buffalo patties that were years old and very dry.
They met very few people that they could talk to. They met one man that I would call a fur trader, because she said he had a two wheel wagon and a skinny horse, and on the wagon he had a lot of hides and furs that he had traded with the Indians. She said, he must have felt sorry for them, because he gave them a blanket for the children.When they reached their destination in Saskatchewan there was a lot more bush. They settled near Red Berry Lake, about 40 miles west of Rosthern. Grandpa turned the wagon box upside down, and they used that for their shelter, while he, grandma and the boys worked together to build a house. It was 18 by 24. The house was not completed when grandma went into labour and my dad, Frank Antypowich, was born under the wagon box.That is about as close to Mother Nature, as you can get.
I do not know if my grandpa had very much education in the old country, but he did use an abacus to count and calculate mathematically. When he had some documents to sign, he signed his name with an X. I do not know if that was because he did not know how to sign it in English or he simply did not write. I do not believe that either he or grandma could speak very much English, because they spoke in their native language most of the time through out the years.
When a lot of the pioneers traveled into the outer perimeters of civilization, the land that they settled on was not surveyed. That made them just squatters. Later, when surveying was done in those areas, there were a lot of problems, because roads were proposed to go through people’s fields and barnyards, and they were not happy. There were a lot of changes that had to be made. Some people had to give up some of their undeveloped land in order to follow the survey lines. Most homesteads consisted of 160 acres or a quarter section as it was referred to. If you were a squatter, it was free, until they came and made you file for a homestead and then that cost you $10.00.
Grandma liked to tell her grandchildren, stories of the early times when they first came to Canada. I can remember her sitting in her chair in the yard with some of us gathered around her and listening to her tell us in her broken English what it was like. She sometimes would use words in Russian or Ukrainian, and because I did not understand that language, it made it harder for me to understand her. I can’t tell you just what they ate for breakfast, dinner or supper in that first little while when they were waiting for the house to be built, but I can remember grandma telling us that they ate a lot of porridge, and how hard it was to bake bread over an open fire. And whenever grandpa or one of the older boys could shoot a rabbit or a grouse they had an extra good meal. I know that the cow that they had with them was milking so they must have had milk for their porridge. She said that when grandpa shot a deer they feasted on it like a bunch of hungry coyotes.
Their house was built out of poplar logs that were hewed with a broad axe. The cracks were chinked with mud and grass. Their roof was built out of poles with chunks of sod placed on top of them. First with the grass side down, and then the next layer with the grass side up. And if and when they got a real hard rain there could be at few leaks in the roof. But in all it was quite warm and provided them and their children with a good enough shelter to live through the winter, where the temperature could go anywhere from 20 to 50 below zero Fahrenheit. They had no window until the first flour sack was empty, and then it was used for a window covering.
The barn was next on the list because it served as protection for their precious animals which were extremely important to their welfare. It was not as well built as the house. Fresh cow manure was used to chink up the cracks but the rest was done in the same manner. In between times, the family had to cut enough hay to feed the cow and the horse for the winter. This was done with a scythe by hand.
That winter, they ate a lot a rabbit’s. Grandma said that it was so good when someone would shoot a moose. Then she could boil and fry meat for the family. During the winter grandpa trapped and traded his furs for any groceries he could get at the trading post. I do not believe there were a lot of white neighbours living in that area at that time; they were mostly Cree Indians. The reason I say this is because I remember grandma saying in her broken English, that they had to take the cow to the bull at the neighbours and by the time they got there she was no longer “in love”. So they made an arrangement to leave her there until she was bred.
The next summer they were able to plant a garden to grow vegetables for their needs. Some of the immigrants brought vegetable seeds with them but I don’t know if grandma did. However since they had such a large family, it is probable that they grew gardens there and would have brought seeds with them from the old country. They probably would have been guarded pretty carefully because that was one assurance of having food in their new world. They would have made a soup out of the beet greens and the very young beets. They added little bits of pork and young carrots. This soup is a very well, known Ukrainian dish called Borsch.
It was fortunate that they had a large family, because breaking the soil was done by hand with a spade and pick, and probably the horse would have been used to pull out bigger roots and stumps. Still they managed to grow a little wheat and oats and were much better prepared for the coming winter.
She said the best thing that happened was that they got some closer neighbors as a few more families had ventured into that wilderness to stake their claim. I can remember grandma telling me that they lived like a bunch of chickens; when it got light they all got up and went to work, and when it got dark they went to bed, because they did not have any thing other than a candle for light.
When they were able to get a pig and some chickens they felt like they were living like kings. They did their own butchering and when they butchered a pig the only thing they threw away was the squeal. After the pig was scalded and cleaned and scraped to remove all the hair, the innards were drawn. The intestines were washed and scraped and cleaned and used for casings to make sausage. The feet were boiled to make a broth or soup. The head was boiled, and then put into a pan. After it was chopped up into small pieces that were run through a grinder and that was called headcheese. They also saved the blood and made blood sausage. All the fat was rendered into lard and used for cooking and baking.
The small bits of meat that were left on the fat that went into the rendering tub would float to the top and would become real crisp. This would be put between two pieces of bread that were spread with lard and ate as a sandwich. I can remember when I went to school, in grade one some of the Ukrainian children’s lunch would be no more than two pieces of home baked bread spread with lard between them.
When they first came to Canada they had no stoves. They made ovens out of mud and cooked their bread in them and it made good bread. They heated their homes that way also. Modern versions of that type of oven and stoves are still found today in the homes of people who have emigrated here from Europe, but now they are made out of fancier materials.
Grandpa and Grandma Antypowich had a large family. In total I think there were 18 or 19 children. Two sets of twins died at birth, and one son drowned. Their living children were Victor, Simon, John, Joe (Bertosie), Mary, Lena, Cornelia, Roman, Annie, Frank, Alec, Joseph, Alan, and Bruce. I don’t believe that one of them was born in a hospital. One thing we know for sure there was no shortage of libido there……..
My father’s sister,Kornella’s husband died, leaving her with a farm and a young family to look after. Times were really tough. Grandpa Matzner was a widower with a young family. One day, while he was traveling to work with his horse and buggy he met a lady that was stuck in a creek with a wagon and a team of horses. He stopped to help her and when he got her out of the mud she thanked him, and they talked to each other a bit. It was then that they both realized that they were single parents, and both had children to look after. Her husband had died after contacting influenza, leaving her to look after the farm and do all the hard work as well. Grandpa had a job and a young family to look after and for a man that was not the easiest thing to do. It did not take too many visits with each other to realize how they could solve that problem.
Now the story gets more interesting. You see, the lady my grandpa Matzner helped out of the mud hole was Kornella Peters, one of my dad’s sisters. When I was born, my aunty was also my grandma. Cornelia had five children, Alois had three. They were married in1919 and in time they had six more children………….
One day Frank Antypowich and a friend decided they would go to Vancouver, B.C. to seek better opportunity for work. On the way, he stopped to see his sister Kornella and meet her new family. Annie Matzner (my mother) was her step-daughter, and she had just come into the yard from a day of working at harrowing a field with six horses. She had dust on her face and baggy patched overalls and truthfully, she never realized how attractive she was at any time, but at that moment she couldn’t imagine any young man being interested in her. However, when they were introduced, Frank decided he wasn’t interested in going to B.C. after all. He had a hard time persuading Annie to even go for a walk with him, but there was that special chemistry between them and eventually she gave in to it. She was 17 and he was 19 when they met………..
Frank went back home to Penn to farm and ranch with his brothers. He and Annie kept in touch by mail as there were no telephones. The closest post office was at Witchekan, twenty-one miles from Penn and he would ride horse-back to get the mail every two weeks. One time he rode to get the mail, and when he got there he tied his horse to a post and went inside. When he came out, the horse had gotten untied and was headed back home on its own, so he had to walk twenty-one miles home. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but there was no letter from Annie either. There was nothing he could do but wait another two weeks for the mail to come.
Frank couldn’t read and write because he never went to school a day in his life, so he always had to have someone help him with her letters. But he never gave up and like any two young people, their hormones rose to the top, and in 1926 they were married at Laventure, Saskatchewan; she was 19 and he was 21…………………
The homestead where I was born bordered right up to an Indian reserve. The Indians taught my dad many tricks for survival with his trapping and hunting. He became good friends with the Cree Indians and he learned to speak their language very well. They would come to the farmhouse and ask for tea or sugar and in return would leave a piece of venison or moose meat.The homestead where I was born bordered right up to an Indian reserve. The Indians taught my dad many tricks for survival with his trapping and hunting. He became good friends with the Cree Indians and he learned to speak their language very well. They would come to the farmhouse and ask for tea or sugar and in return would leave a piece of venison or moose meat……………
A native friend of my dad’s lived on this reserve, and he would come and visit with dad. His name was Charlie Pissis, and he would come over during the winter to see how the new baby was doing. I can understand why the Indians could be so concerned about a baby being born at the beginning of winter, because they lived in tents. That may have been why Charlie took a liking to me. He gave me moccasins that his wife had made and I can remember Charlie would come over to our place and he would do a little dance and try to get me to mimic him. I don’t think my mother was too impressed. She didn’t want her little boy to become an Indian.
Later, when I was able to walk around outside on the farm he would always say how he was going to make a great hunter out of me. One day when I was about four he came over and gave me a slingshot that he had made and together he and I would go hunting for small birds. Charlie would always encourage me to become a big hunter.
When I was a little older he brought me a bow he made from a Saskatoon willow, as well as some arrows, and showed me how to shoot it. Boy, now I really was beginning to be a big hunter. He would take me to the saw-mill and we would go and hunt for little birds that seemed to hang around the slab piles. I can still remember Charlie sneaking up on these little birds ever so quietly and teaching me to move slowly and not make any noise. I was lucky if I could get an arrow to land within 3 feet of the birds, so one day Charlie took the bow and shot one for me.
That only made me more determined to learn how to do that too. He told me I would have to do a lot of practicing so he set up a box for me to shoot at. He said when I could hit the dot in the center of that box I would be able to shoot a bird. I don’t know how many arrows I shot before I finally hit the dot. I can remember the first bird that I shot. I brought it back to show my mom. I was so proud of the kill I had made, but she looked it and said “oh poor little bird, don’t you feel sorry for it now”. I said “No”, and asked if I should pluck it like daddy plucked the ducks but she said no and told me to go and give it to the cats. It wasn’t too long before I was feeding the cats quite a few birds and there wasn’t a bird that was safe around the yard if I had my bow and arrow with me. Then, one day my dad took me aside and said it’s okay for you to shoot some birds, but don’t shoot the robins.
Charlie would come over and ask me how many birds I had shot; then he would say “good pretty soon you will be able to go and shoot the big ones.” He tried to teach me how to say all of the animal and bird names in Cree. My dad would help me when I needed help with the names. One day he came over with some birch bark and he and dad made a moose call. I was so fascinated by it and the noises that they made that I wanted to go with them and watch them call a moose but of course I was too small. When they returned from hunting they had shot a moose. I can remember them laughing and talking about how they called that moose right in close to them before they shot it. All though I was not there, I visualized the hunt in my mind. I’m sure I had dreams of calling a moose and having it come to me so I could shoot it, but of course that never happened for a long time, because I had a lot of growing up to do first…………….
I can remember one summer day my dad took me to a gathering or a Sun Dance that they were having on the hill right next to our farm. We went into a large tepee. There was a fire in the center and tanned hides with the hair still on all around the inside of the tepee. There were many Indians sitting on the hides and we went in and sat down cross-legged on the hides beside them. My dad would talk and greet them in their traditional ways. The ceremonies were a series of dancing and singing in all sorts of different costumes. The drumming and chanting was a bit scary to me, but Chief Tom Thomas was very honoured to have my dad and me at their sun dance. It was an experience that was a little bit scary, but I never will forget……..
My dad took my older brothers, Ervin and Roman and they went logging. They would go and cut logs so that when the muskegs froze they could haul them home with the sleigh and horses. That winter they lived in a tent when they were logging. The wolves were quite bad. They would come around at night and bother the horses, so my dad had to build a big fire to keep the wolves away. They used two teams of horses to haul the logs. They would load one team and send them home by themselves. Then, they would load the other sleigh and follow them home. One day they caught up to the team and they were just standing on the road. The wolves had been sitting on the road and the horses refused to go any farther, so dad had to make a lot of noise to get the wolves to move away.
Most times, when dad and the boys got home, mom had the horses all fed and their supper ready. It sure felt good to them to get in from the cold and sit down to a warm supper. She used to cook a big roster pan of cabbage rolls and some fresh baked bread, as well as some ginger snap cookies, for them to take back to the bush with them.
On another trip home they had loaded up old Dick and Tiny and sent them home, as they were a real slow walking team. I guess they put too big of a load on them and they had a hard time to turn the corner at the bottom of the hill, so they went straight into the neighbor’s yard. When the dog started barking the neighbor went out to see what he was barking at, and there stood the team of horses with a load of logs. He unhooked them and put them in the barn. It was a clear moonlight night and dad noticed that they missed the corner. When the neighbor came out and helped him hook up the team, he asked my dad if he wasn’t scared to be out late at night like that when the wolves were so bad. Dad told him a gun didn’t do much good because the wolves only came out on the road at night.
He told him he used two short pieces of board and would bang one against the other and that would make them move off of the road.
It was always fun to play in the sawdust pile and I liked the smell of the fresh cut lumber. One spring day before the saw-mill was in production, an old mother cat had her kittens under the log pile so I crawled under there to retrieve them. There were five. They all had long tails like most cats do, but at my uncle’s place he had a cat with a short tail. So I decided that I would make short tails on all these kittens. I took a hammer and on a piece of iron that was on the bunk of the mill and I whacked the tails off all of the kittens. Of course my dad noticed what I had done and gave me a real shellacking. I think it may have been my first one but believe me, I never did forget it.
Hunting was the big thing in my life, and at that time I believed my dad could hunt anything and be successful at it. One day I wanted him to take me down to the creek so we could hunt ducks together. But he told me I could go hunt ducks by myself; all I needed was a salt shaker and if I got close enough to the duck and put a little salt on his tail I could catch him. I did not need any further encouragement. So with my favourite old dog and a salt shaker I headed for the creek to go duck hunting. The old dog was my guardian from the time I took my first step and of course when I got near the creek he sensed the danger that I might be in and would not let me get any closer. My dad followed me down and was there to assist me if I got into any problems. I guess I got very frustrated with my trusty old dog because he would not let me get close to the creek and when my dad showed up I was all teary eyed and told him that I was never going to take my dog hunting with me again.
Later my mom clued me into the fact that putting salt on the ducks tail was just a trick and would never work.
Later that summer a neighbouring sheep farmer came over to our place. I immediately tried to talk him into taking me to the river to hunt ducks. He gave me a little story about how easy it was to hunt ducks and that I could hunt them myself. All I needed was a pepper shaker to put a little pepper on the rock and the duck would go and smell it and when he did he would sneeze and bump his beak on the rock and then I could catch them. I told him that putting salt on the ducks tail didn’t work, and I didn’t think that putting pepper on a rock would work either; you had to take a gun and shoot them. That was how you hunted ducks.
When I was about six years old I would try and follow my two older brothers wherever they went around the farm. This was not always with their approval. On our farm we had a herd of sheep. My two older brothers were big enough that they could handle the ram and from time to time they would tease him until he would chase them and bunt them. But I was too small to handle him so I guess they thought this was going to be their way out of having me follow them so they decided to have a little fun with me and that ram. They told me that if I could ride him, he would never chase or bunt me again, and of course I was brave enough to try.
Now a sheep is not all that easy to ride even though you have a lot of wool to hang on too. They decided to put an old tire around him and I was to hang onto the tire, but from time to time I would fall off anyway. Of course they would rescue me before the ram would turn around to bunt me. After we had been doing this for a while the rest of the sheep got up from their afternoon nap and headed over the little hill to graze on the creek bottom pasture. I guess that old ram was in a hurry to catch up to them and when my brothers let him go I went for a merry old ride over the hill. I was not doing to bad on the level but when he started down the hill he got high centered on that tire. We didn’t go too far before the ram and I ended upside down in the brush along the path. I guess my brothers thought this was a good time to run away and leave me behind. When the ram managed to free himself he was not too interested in bumping me and just kept running after the rest of the sheep. When I crawled back up the hill to where I thought my brothers were they were gone.
Of course that did not keep that ram from bunting or chasing me. In fact I think it made him a lot worse. When I would go to gather the eggs he would watch for me and wouldn’t let me leave the barn. I don’t know how many dozens of eggs I smashed on his head before he would go back to the sheep barn. It was then that I would make a run for the house, only to sometimes trip and fall and smash all the eggs in pail. Of course then I would get my ears pulled from my mom because she thought I was being careless and running with a pail of eggs.
After begging and pleading with her that it was the rams fault and not mine, she came with me to gather the eggs. That old ram came out to meet us and started to bunt at her until he broke most of the eggs. Then I was really in trouble because I had to tell her that it was the boys who taught the ram to bunt me. They got a real talking too from dad and now they were really out to get even with me. They would let me follow them when they would go out hunting birds with their slingshots and when they got a fair way from home they would run away on me. Sometimes when I was trying to find my way back home they would beller like a bull and scare the living daylights out of me.
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