Pennine. Saturday, F«b. 14. 1976 1 "All right all right I’m coming now can’t you guys shut up?" I mumbled to myself in answer to the cows' bawling. I grabbed a hold of the sliding door in an effort to get out of the bitter cold outside, and into the comfortable warmth of the barn. Several good hard pushes and a few kicks wouldn't budge it. Like most everything else, it was frozen solid. Rubbing my briefly, and blowing into my hands to warm them, I ran around to the milk house to enter the barn from there. Although also held fast by ice and snow, the door slid open with the aid of a pitchfork which was kept near there. I fumbled for the light switch and the cows instantly turned their heads towards me with louder "moos" than ever. Turning the radio on for friendlier company, I started the silo unloader which was just as reluctant about "waking up" on this icy morning as I had been. Gradually, it picked up speed, and feed began to tumble down the frost-covered chute. Bosco, one of my favorite cows, stretched her head out towards me as I walked past her and let me hear a “moo” which was almost loud enough to vibrate my cold bones. She was promptly slapped, even though she was a big pet. “Take it easy,” I said, “you’ll be fed in a minute!” Mean while, I walked to the grain storage area. A cold blast of air shot through "Good morning," the man on the radio said. His words irritated me a bit. "Some morning,” I thought, "no water, 17 degrees outside and a wind which makes it feel as though it's 30 degrees colder yet. Checking several water bowls while the cows continued to bawl and look at me with big, anxious eyes, there was no water to be had anywhere. The pressure gauge on the water tank, with its “0" reading, looked more like a thermometer. I dreaded a broken-down pump and hoped it was just a frozen pipe somewhere. Thawing it would be a problem, unless I could manage to get some hot water out of the water heater in the milk house. “Maybe it’s just a fuse,’’ I thought, holding on to the idea with lots of hope. Yanking the switch box open, I inspected both fuses. They were both intact “Just my luck,’’ I mumbled, while 40 cows begged for water with deafening tones. Our well was underneath a “small house" with a roof over it which was simply slid off the side to get to controls and pump. The whistling wind cut right through my jacket Boy, it was cold, it wasn't my day the door as I opened it. "There’s got to be a more comfortable way to make a living," I thought silently. The wind whipped down through the cracks between three small silos and sent some of the finer particles of gram into my eyes. Returning to the dairy barn, I began to give each cow a heaping forkful of silage. The wind continued to whistle outside even managing to lift a window out of its place and leaving it dangling and clattering. I stopped feeding and walked over to put it back into place, then securing it with a small wooden wedge driven bet ween the metal frame and concrete block wall. "Seventeen degrees in York and Lancaster: 15 in Harrisburg," I heard the radio announcer say. With the wind-chill factor it was minus 12. It wasn’t until I was done feeding silage that I noticed the cows’ bawling hadn't subsided too much. I guessed they were complaining about the cold. Maybe they’ll calm down after they have their grain. Then Bosco told me what was wrong. I should have known. She was pressing her nose into an empty drinking bowl as hard as she could. No water! Feeling badly about having slapped her earlier, I hugged her head and told her (and in a way every other cow in the barn) that I’d work on it right away to fix it. C£OpCX?C*7 In my hurry to get things fixed, and with the bitter cold possibly slowing the bloodflow to my brain, I had forgotten to take a flashlight out with me. Racing back around to the milk house, disgusted with myself and the weather, I grabbed it, ran back, and jumped across the low concrete block wall. I couldn't have hoped any more than I did that a fuse would be blown in the weathered box I was about to open. I was almost afraid to open it knowing what it would mean if I did not find what I wanted. Aiming my flashlight into the box, and crouching down low to get a good look, I discovered that luck was with me. Another trip to the milk house followed, but if a fuse is all it took to get the cows their water, I would have been willing to walk a couple of miles for it. “You'll have your water now, gang!” I announced happily as I strolled back into the barn to watch the pressure gauge creep back to 20 or 30 pounds. Its normal reading was between 40 and 60, but with a herd of thirsty cows, it wouldn’t get there for a while. WHAT’S A GREAT FAITH? I