Falling into Hell

This is one of my favorite stories!

When I was a kid growing up on the dairy, occasionally we would have a cow die. We used to drag them out to a big rocky area and between the coyotes, the magpies, and the vultures they would soon just be a pile of bones. With the occasional addition of another cow to the rock pile, the pile of bones grew, and we gave it the name, “the bone yard”. It was about 400 yards to the bone yard from the back porch of our house, and we had one of our deer rifles sighted in at 400 yards, and we were able to get a coyote occasionally, and a bounty that went with the coyote. Then the inevitable came, the government said that leaving dead cows on the rock pile would pollute the world and that we needed to bury the cows. It was a very, long and hard job, but someone had to bury the cow whenever one died. We didn’t have a back hoe so we had to dig the grave with a shovel. So a key question comes up right about now, “how deep does a boy dig a grave for a cow?”, and the answer is, “just deep enough”. Several months after burying a cow, I was walking through one of our fields and I walked over the grave that I had dug. I fell through the small layer of dirt that had covered the cow into the grave. The cow had rotted away leaving the space taken up by the cow empty except for a couple feet of “soup” totally loaded with maggots. When I fell into the “soup” that the cow was reduced to, the smell totally overwhelmed me, and I was sure I had fallen right into hell! I managed to crawl out of the hole and escape from hell, but the “soup” had gone over the top of my rubber boots and filled them up. When I got back to the house my Mom wouldn’t let me into the house until I had taken off my boots, and pants and hosed off all residue of that rotten cow. After that experience I dug the future cow graves a little bit deeper.

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