- Bud’s Fence
Most of them are gone and the remaining six are scheduled to go soon. For the first time that anyone in Oysterville can remember, there will no longer be any cows on the Goulter property on Oysterville Road. I venture to say that most of us residents have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it will be the end of an era and an end to the most interesting local topic of carping and complaining; on the other hand, it’s high time.
Now approaching his mid-eighties and dealing with serious medical issues, Bud can no longer manage a herd of cows. In fact, in recent years it seems as though the herd has managed Bud. Certainly, it has sent him on many a rescue mission when neighbors, near and not-so-near, telephone to say, “Bud, your cows are out. They were in my yard and just headed south.” Or north, or wherever.
Taking care a herd of 25 or 30 cows is a big job. Take fencing. I don’t know how many acres Bud’s fences encompass but they seem to go on and on in every direction. Those fences have always been creative, made up of a variety of materials – posts and barbed wire, chicken wire, baling wire, wooden rails, even the rope and twine from the bales of hay. The most imaginative, though, was a pair of pantyhose stretched from toe to toe, crotch up, between fence posts. And sometimes, presumably if no other solution presented itself, a pile of brush was stacked against an offending break in the barrier. No wonder those cows often wandered the village gardens.
And then, there was the matter of feed. Even though the Goulter property is extensive, the cows kept the grass cropped to the nubbin. It’s hard to imagine that they found anything at all there to work on. Periodically, though, their diet was supplemented with the silage from those giant Paul Bunyan sized ‘marshmallows’ called “Ag-Bags.” And, during the mowing season, many people, individuals as well as commercial lawn-care folks, saved their grass clippings for Bud’s cows. Bud had a regular collection route around the village.
Hay was another thing. More than once we’ve followed Bud’s little pick-up as he headed around the bay for home, truck-bed piled high with hay to be stacked in his old barn. Wrestling with bales of hay is not an easy job. But, like all the other aspects, of raising cattle, it’s a chore Bud has done for more years than most of us can remember. There is no doubt in my mind that he will miss the cows and even all the work they entail.
Whether or not neighbors miss Bud’s cows, it is certain that they will provide stories for years to come in Oysterville. They were definitely part of our local color and won’t soon be forgotten.
Lee says years ago the Goulter family when butchering cattle would have it canned at the local oyster/clam cannery and sale the canned beef in the community. This was before lockers and home freezers. An era has truly gone by.
Yes, it is indeed the end of an era. Bud’s grandfather, Theophilus Goulter, had a cattle ranch up on the tideland between Oysterville and Stackpole Harbor. He butchered and canned beef. Both my mother and Helen Heckes said it was the best canned beef they ever had. Mom said that in the winter, when it wasn’t possible to get fresh meat (and frozen foods wouldn’t be known until electricity came in in the late 1930s), they fixed that canned beef in all sorts of ways — meatloaf, stew, pot roast. Mom said, too, that “in the summer, maybe once a week. a horse and wagon would come door-to-door, flies all over the meat.” (Well, maybe parts of that particular era are just as well behind us!)
Sad post. I love the cows. Melinda, loved those cows too. Pioneer Road and Oysterville Road are (were) the best roads in the county because of the cows. Well, in my opinion.
I enjoyed seeing the cows when they were in the field; however, did not enjoy them when they had trampled our yard and flowers nor were they my favorites when I scooped cow piles off the graves in the Oysterville Cemetery.
Sad, indeed. Animals can be annoying, but where would we be without them? I am sure no one will miss having cows show up in the yard, but sad that it won’t be a possibility.
Nice blog about Bud and Sherry’s cows.
Growing up in Oysterville at the Goulter farm, with Sherry (my mom) and Bud (my dad) were absolutely the defining moments in my life. Helping Sherry run the cows up and down stack pole each summer, stacking the hay barn (and unstacking when it began to steam) gave me the tools to become a man with a work ethic.
One afternoon, Sherry looked out the kitchen window and saw our Hereford Bull “Pretty Boy” in the potato patch. She grabbed a switch and chased that 1,000 lb. bull out of the patch and I watched it jump over a 3 strand barbed wire fence! We returned to the house and and a short while, she looked out the kitchen window only to see he had returned. She turned to me and stated, “your turn, I have to finish supper before Buddy gets home. I did. That was amazing!