Westcott Family Farm

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2021 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

Chapter 1

“Happy the man whose wish and care,
a few paternal acres bound,
control to breathe his native
air in his own ground.”

(Alexander Pope) 

I suppressed my yawn, clenching my jaw in the process and twisting my face just a bit, conscious if I didn’t, it’d trigger yawns from the other five boys on the chairs to my right. As they say, one yawn sets other yawns off.  I’d listened to the music (not bad), the speeches (dry), and now, half-way through the list of graduates, anxiously awaited the announcement of the young male we were here to see receive his diploma.  Robert would be near the end of the stream of young people parading across the stage as their name was read since “Westcott” is near the end of the alphabet and god help anybody who might suggest to read the names in a different order.  The order and procedure hadn’t changed much since I’d graduated years before, waiting most impatiently then for the principal to say “Jacob Westcott,” and could see no change in the foreseeable future, relegating to our remaining troupe of boys to last in the line when they received their diploma.

Sighing, yawn suppressed, I glanced down the row of boys to my right and wished their mother could’ve been here to see her first born graduate from high school, something she hadn’t done, but it wasn’t to be!  She’d never see any of her boys graduate or grow up, be there for their first dates, first heartbreaks, or see them settled into their own lives or, if possible, see or hold her own grandchildren. Those responsibilities she’d bequeathed and so ordained, belonged to and was accepted by me and my spouse, Andy Jamison-Westcott!

As the High School principal continued reading through the names of graduates, calling each forward to receive his or her diploma, amidst the scattered cheers and applause of joyful family members and friends, I allowed my mind to wander back through time and the beginnings of the Westcott Family Farm, relayed to me by first my grandfather and later by my father before he passed away leaving the farm to me.

Westcott Family Farm was established by my Great-grandfather, Robert Westcott who, having more than a bit of the wanderlust in his spirit and soles of his feet, sold a very productive and richly fertile farm on the Southern Minnesota/Northern Iowa border and moved his family north—into the wooded, lake dotted country of Northern Minnesota.  It was a new country with Beltrami County barely incorporated some forty odd years before in 1866 and named after an “Italian Count” who, it was said, was an early explorer to the region.  Bemidji became the country seat in 1897.

Robert Westcott viewed this as a land of opportunity and good fortune for the hard worker, the enterprising individual, and entrepreneur; all of which he thought himself adept and skilled at.  Bemidji State Normal School was recently established, offering educational and employment, he hoped, opportunities for his growing family of five girls and one boy.  Although it was in the midst of logging country and replete with lakes, as well as the Mississippi River, located in close proximity to two very large Indian Reservations with large tracts of land undeveloped, left in its natural state, and in a northern clime he’d not experienced agriculture in, he was optimistic. He’d read an old newspaper article claiming a farmer in the area reporting a crop of two hundred and fifty bushels of potatoes per acre and that was in land after being frozen solid for at least five months of the year. The short summers were offset by long days, increasing the growing time for crops.

He reasoned it might be too far north to grow corn or soybeans, but saw no reason why hay, oats, and certain vegetables might be grown there; certainly items such as the potatoes, turnips, rutabagas, cabbage and other cool weather crops. Since blackberries seemed to grow wild here, he reasoned other berries might grow as well. It’d take some experimentation and research, but he thought he could make a living off of this land. He’d grown tired of raising row crops, milking cows, slopping pigs, and the high temperatures of southern Minnesota and was ready for a change.

“Hell, the land is cheap enough,” he mused to himself.

Game and fish were abundant in the nearby lakes, the river and streams, and the forests. Robert was convinced he and his family could live off of their own land, supplemented by hunting and fishing and outside employment.  He was a carpenter by trade, a farmer by present occupation, and a dreamer at heart! Like his ancestors, Robert Westcott was blessed with ambition, intelligence, good looks, vision, and an exceptionally nicely-shaped, long, fat cock which he used with regularity, precision, and great pleasure!

Robert made several trips to the area searching for a piece of property which would suit the needs of his family for the present, and the future, and the life style he preferred. The property would have to be suited for subsistence farming providing for his family, the opportunity for growth in the future, and bring modest cash income to his larder, but only if the price was right!

He finally decided a tract of land of two hundred forty acres located along the shores of Big Sand Lake east of Bemidji, was appropriate and would suit his purposes.  Granted, part of it was logged, but there were still nice stands of mixed hardwoods and poplar, interspersed with groves of pine trees, and spotted with several small ponds and peat beds.  Only sixty acres or so was cleared sufficiently for agriculture, but the stumps could be removed, in the future, from the logged areas.  The old house on the abandoned homestead needed a great deal of work, but was habitable, sort of, but they’d live in it until the renovation was complete anyway. There was a decent barn, a good well and windmill, and, most importantly, the price was right! So right, in fact, after the sale of his other farm, there was cash left over. Robert not only was adept and talented at depositing his personal fluid offering into willing orifices, but extremely talented in investing and growing his cash assets and non-cash assets.

The soil was mixed sand and gravel with marginally decent topsoil, but basically northern Podzolic soil, which, if fertilized properly and humus increased through the use of peat, manure, and composted materials, would produce a variety of crops, if watered properly during dry seasons.  Although irrigation wasn’t common, Robert knew enough about the importance of water, which would be abundant from the lake, the small ponds, and the water table existing some twenty or less feet down, to bring his ideas and crops to a fruition.  The only real obstacle, he felt, was the climate; it’d dictate what crops he could plant and expect a reliable harvest.

When he stood back and looked at his possible purchase, he knew he’d be the only person interested.  After all, who in their right mind would want scrub, poor land located along a lake?  Robert Westcott did, shot in a bid lower than the asking price, and by the gods, owned it! The Westcott Family moved in April, loading all of their household goods and furniture, livestock, farm equipment, along with themselves, on a train and after arriving near Bemidji at a small railroad siding and depot, unloaded and moved their possession by wagon, with livestock afoot (except for the chickens and pigs) to their new home on Big Sand Lake.

Miriam and his girls set about getting the house in order while he and his son, Edward, repaired the fences, cleaned and repaired the barn, chicken coop, and hog house, plowed a large garden, and sixty acres of cleared and stumped ground.  While Miriam and the girls planted the garden, settled the hens in the newly renovated coop, milked the two cows, and other household chores, Robert and Edward planted corn, oats, and potatoes. Robert figured, in addition to the sixty acres planted, there was an additional twenty acres of hay ground that could be harvested as well.  He’d need that hay either stacked or in the mow of the barn come winter to feed not only the milk cows but any steers he had in pasture as well.

He’d decided a few beef cattle and three or four sows, heavy with young, and several sheep, along with his draft and riding horses, would take care of the farm’s livestock. The horses would provide the power for field work and transportation, the milk cows for milk, cheese, and butter, the hogs for meat in the form of ham, bacon, sausage, lard, and canned meat, and the sheep for sale.  He soon changed his mind on sheep when bears, wolves, and coyotes decided they enjoyed the taste as well. 

After his sheep started disappearing, he began confining the hogs in the hog house at night, securing them tightly from predators.  Chickens were also more tightly watched and secured when fox, weasels, and skunks attempted to raid the flock.

Robert’s family changed as the girls reached marriageable age, found husbands, and moved on. The farm began changing as well since, when the opportunity for him to purchase adjacent land became available, he did so, until he eventually owned twelve forties or four hundred and eighty acres.

Edward enjoyed farming, like his father did, and the use of one of his most reliable tools, often sinking it deep, plowing a furrow wider and deeper than most seed planting instruments other young men had hanging between their legs!  His adeptness and shouts of joy and ecstasy by those he worked his magic on failed to produce a crop until he reached the ripe old age of nineteen when the seed took root and he soon became a married man.

Content to settle his new bride in the same house as his parents, Edward and his wife soon produced three girls and one boy, David, my grandfather. Edward, able fucker that he was, also had a great deal of vision beyond the length of his long, fat cock and saw opportunity to expand the crops the farm produced. During the later years, while his parents were still alive, he began planting vegetables for sale to markets and roadside stands in and near Bemidji. The sale of those products grew in popularity so he planted a small field of strawberries, utilizing a “pick your own” marketing technique as well as selling wholesale to stores in the city. He also built a small stand near the road for sale of his garden products as well.  Edward did not discontinue his beef cattle, hog, oats, hay, and, when short season corn seed became available, corn production; however, using those crops to maintain a comfortable base to his income level.

 Edward believed in diversification, not only in his farming operations but in his sex life as well.  He was found dead, pants down around his ankles, cock-snot still dripping from his pecker, after trying to butt-fuck four young college boys in rapid succession who worked in the fields for him. I often wondered, looking in the mirror at my own hefty maleness hanging between my legs, if my grandfather would’ve died with a hard-on how the undertaker would’ve closed the coffin lid!

The sheriff and the coroner, when investigating the death, declared it “death by natural causes” attributing the expiration of Edward to a heart attack.

When interviewing the four young men whose asses Edward had been pummeling just prior to his death, the sheriff discovered Edward generally paid a nice bonus to each young man in the weekly pay envelope for a “job well done.”

“Honestly,” the last young man to have Edward’s big cock up his ass, “I thought, when he sort of rested on my back, he was just catching his breath, but when his cock started to shrivel inside me and then popped out, I figured something else was wrong. I sort of shifted my ass to ask him if there was a problem, and ‘plunk’ he dropped off onto the ground, stone dead.”

The sheriff just shook his head in wonder. He really swallowed hard, tamping down a loud laugh, when one of the lads asked, “Does this mean we won’t get our bonus this week?”

David, my father, Grandpa Edward’s son, seemed rather nonplused by the episode, vowed to care for his mother, and expanded farm production by increasing the strawberry fields, added sweet corn, asparagus, and other vegetable crops including cauliflower, summer and winter squash, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, and a few root crops such as turnips and rutabagas as part of the expanding truck garden farm he was developing. In order to produce some of these, he added a heated greenhouse to nurture the seedlings and give them a good start before planting those frost sensitive plants in the outside gardens. Dad had a large walk-in cooler installed in one of the equipment buildings to keep harvested produce until he could get them to market.  At the same time, he didn’t diminish his production of hay, oats, field corn, hogs, or beef cattle. Like his father, he too believed in diversification!

Mom encouraged him to remodel the old house, so he added a wing to each side; one wing housing a new kitchen and dining room; the other  wing a large living room, an office, a full bathroom, and a bedroom (for his mother’s use). The four bedrooms upstairs were remodeled as well, becoming a larger master bedroom with a large full bathroom, more closet space, two other bedrooms, and a smaller, but complete bathroom for use by those occupying the spare bedrooms.

Dad also expanded the irrigation system, adding wells, two pivot irrigation systems for the sweet corn, and more “traveler” gun systems for the strawberries and vegetables. The shallow water table, the small ponds, and the lake made water available and helped him produce nice crops.  His summer help in the strawberries, sweet corn, other vegetables was recruited from the colleges and high schools in the area.  He built a small changing house, boat and swimming dock, and cleared a beach for his help to use after they were done work for the day, if they so desired.  He often joined them for a dip or two, depending on who was willing and if the changing house was empty. His dipping was reserved to the lake alone, unlike most of his predecessors.

He married late in life and Julia, his wife and my mother, tried diligently and often to have a family and finally had a set of twins; me and my younger sister, Janet, born some four minutes after me.  I finished high school and went to Bemidji State majoring in Biological Science/Horticulture while Janet quit early in the twelfth grade of high school and left home.

To be continued...

Posted: 02/12/2021