The Truth About the Barn by David Elias

Author:David Elias
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Barns
ISBN: 9781773370514
Publisher: Great Plains
Published: 2020-10-07T21:48:22+00:00

A Darker Side

The big turkey barn we had dismantled and rebuilt in its new location now stood much closer to the farmyard than before. There was a fence to keep the birds enclosed, but when a few birds managed to escape, as they inevitably did, they would wander through the yard and head straight for my mother’s garden. The dog was encouraged to give chase immediately, lest the peas and beans and radishes didn’t make it to the dinner table. There wasn’t any harm in it until one day, instead of merely scattering them, the dog suddenly launched itself through the air, dug its paws into the broad back of a sprinting bird, opened its jaws and snapped the bird’s neck with one quick bite. The turkey crashed to the ground, flailed, and flapped its wings in a death spiral, while the dog ran around in circles barking gleefully. I thought it might be a one-time occurrence, but something had been triggered, and when the next unfortunate gaggle of turkeys wandered into the yard the same scenario was repeated. When my father found out, I was immediately ordered to put the dog down.

I was allowed to use the .22 caliber single-shot rifle for the job. The .303 bolt action would have been the better choice, but the bullets for that gun were too expensive. Remember this was the same man who, at hog slaughtering time, would not bother to waste ammunition on a pig, and chose to use a sledgehammer instead. I can still picture the uncanny way he had of mesmerizing the doomed hog as he stood before it and then, wham! Time for the butcher knife.

Besides the small and disappointing house our father had moved us into, the farmyard we now called home also had a couple of traditional barns. One was an ancient relic that must have been put up by the first settlers. Built out of rough-hewn logs and plaster, it sagged badly, and we had filled it up with the detritus of turkey ranching: brooders and feeders, watering troughs and rolls of fencing wire. The other one was newer, red of course, and in better condition. It was going to serve as a repository for the grain needed to feed the turkeys. I chose the backside of this newer barn, and the dog followed me dutifully when I called it, stood before me, looking up at me with eager eyes, wondering what sport I might have in mind for the two of us. It waited with its eyes of innocent curiosity. Were we going to go on a hunt together? Did I have some hidden treat I was about to share? I raised the rifle, aimed between its eyes, and fired. The dog went down and I walked quickly over to the toolshed to put down the gun and exchange it for a spade, then started back to give the dog a decent burial. When I rounded the corner of the barn it was standing there looking up at me, confused and badly wounded, blood running down its snout.

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