By Dorothy (Miller) Hunsley – Mississauga, Ont.
When our daughter was about three years old we drove west one summer. After two days driving to get out of Ontario and going through rock cuts, the questions came fast and furious from our daughter.
“Are we there yet? Why are we so sure they won’t hit Manitoba? Why is the train going on the grass? I don’t see any tracks,” she’d machine-gun at us.
“What are those big things sticking out of grass?” Grain elevators! She thought the little derricks sticking up were dinosaurs pecking for worms.
A day at a family farm really amused us. According to her there were “hundreds of chickens out there.” Then, she heard a funny laugh, so her country cousins took her to a henhouse and there was a hen laughing. Did we know why? She was hiding an egg under her so the other chickens couldn’t find it.
They then told her that those things that hang down on a cow was the way you got milk. She said “No way!” She knew you got it in a bottle or else you bought it at a store. Every time we went over train tracks at home she’d holler “Train tracks!”
My dad took us out to the lake over a rough gravel road. She stood up behind her grandfather with her arms around his neck and hollered “Train tracks, Poppa.” I’m sure dad was glad there were only 5 miles of gravel.
When you’re city raised and don’t know about farms it can be very confusing. We grew up out west. Although we didn’t live on farms, we visited them and at an early age knew all about them. I don’t think we ever questioned where eggs and milk came from.