Bum Steer: Country Misadventures, #1

By Tracy Heath

Tracy Heath recounts some of her most treasured and entertaining stories from her childhood in the Eastern Oregon desert. In this first book of her Country Misadventures series, you will be introduced to a pleasant wasteland where pheasants stroll through the neighborhood, and sagebrush and barbed wire fences are silhouetted in the vibrant, setting sun.

She tells about being bullied by a steer:
“Since he wasn't a pet we promptly named him 'Reddy.' It had a nice ring to it and had next to nothing to do with the fact that his eyes glowed red.”

And find out what happens when a grade school child gets behind the wheel:
“Well, when all you need is one right foot that knows what it's doing, it's a sure shame to be stuck with a pair of lefties.”

You'll even read about coping with psychotic chickens:
“So we placed an order with the local feed store for 'assorted chicks.'....It wasn't until quite a while later that we learned the true meaning of 'assorted.'”

You will find the stories intriguing and original. As you chuckle your way through them, these country anecdotes may bring back a few humorous memories from your own childhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracy Heath
• Release date: Jun 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497740730

Book preview

Introduction

Anyone who has ever grown up has a few tales to tell. For me, it's just been in the recent months that I started reliving some of my good old country days. Now that I reside in the city and have small fry of my own, vivid childhood memories have been flooding my mind. As I've waded through the memory banks, several unique escapades floated to the top. The result is this collection of humorous happenings from my youth.

Have you ever seen a cat that sits like a human? Or had a steer run you out of the pasture and almost through the barbed wire fence? What about unusual automobile incidents? You might have some memories of your first time driving a vehicle. Well, so do I. And at ten years of age, it didn't turn out pretty.

All of the stories are based on fact. I might have taken a little creative license here and there but not enough to ruin the raw humor of my formative years. These anecdotes will provide you with a peep into the life of a young country girl as she lived through the quirks and perks of growing up in the Eastern Oregon desert.

Chapters

Chickens Wanted—Dead or Alive

Bum Steer

Up and Down Again—Country Style

The Give and Take of Cats

Taking the Joy out of the Ride

Chickens Wanted—Dead or Alive

I grew up on what I call a farmlette. We owned 1.2 acres in Eastern Oregon where grass and greenery were intrusions on the desert. Jackrabbits and pheasants strolled through the neighborhood, and it wasn't uncommon for our dogs to come home tinged by a bit of skunk. And by a bit I mean a good dousing.

Our acreage couldn't be called a real farm since we rarely had more than one of any species. Sure crazy cows, lame horses, goofy dogs and cats meandered on and off our property, but at any given time our land was still a farmlette.

A farm has to be overrun with animals to qualify for farmship. The closest we ever got was the fateful day we decided to get chickens. I must clarify. I begged and pleaded and promised exorbitant amounts of slave work to my parents if only they would let us have chickens. Chickens! Those cute little clumps of feathers! That's what our dreary lives were missing.

We had a friend who owned a few chickens and let them feed off the land. Each night they'd line up pretty-as-you-please in front of the hen house, hand her an egg apiece, and tuck themselves in for the night. One was even trained to bar the door and hang the Do Not Disturb sign. These were what I called chickens. And I figured we