The Day the Cattle Died Dust we inhaled it, ate it, drank it and survived it. In the summer of 1934, a problem was building--one that no longer could be ignored. The cattle, for a year now, had had little and very poor feed and were starting to starve. The hay that could be bought through the government programs was of very poor quality. Because of the very large area of this drought, the hay had to be shipped long distances. This added to the price, and it became very apparent, it would not be feasible to feed this high priced feed to these cattle that were already in poor condition. The next home grown feed was almost a year away, if then. The government also saw the hopelessness of the situation. A program was enacted in which cattle would be bought for slaughter shot and buried. I can clearly recall the day that this happened. We sorted off the cattle that were young and in the best shape, those that my father thought he could feed. Then we waited for the cattle drive. My uncle and some of his neighbors got their cattle together and started to drive them to Conde, some eleven miles away. The route they chose took them by many other farms. As they went along, the farms they passed would put their cattle in the group and join the drive. Some had saddle horses and some just came on foot. We lived only three miles from town. So when they got to our place, a very large herd of cattle and men had been assembled. Conde, at that time, had large wooden pens called stockyards built along the railroads. In more normal times, cattle were gathered in these pens, loaded onto rail stock cars and shipped to market. As we neared the stockyards, we saw other herds coming from all directions for this was the day this event was to happen. These cattle were in all shapes, sizes and of many different breeds. Some were pitifully thin and others, surprisingly, had quite a good coat of flesh. One and all, they were driven into the wooden pens but these cattle would not be shipped. Government men were there and they helped sort and tally the cattle to their original owners. Payment allotment was based on the shape the cows were in; more was paid for a large cow in good shape than was paid for a small thin one. Top price for a good cow was twenty dollars. My father told me, later, that he averaged about twelve dollars. Large ditches had already been dug along the tracks. Cattle were herded into them and government men with high-powered rifles stood on boxcars and shot them. Then they were buried. My father made me stand back where I was not able to witness this scene, but I still remember the noise of the cattle and the shots ringing out. The similarity between this scene and the death camps in Germany during World War II were striking. At least, these were animals and it was either this or starve. We had joined this drive before our noon meal and this killing process was long and drawn out. Later that afternoon, my brother, his two cousins and a neighbor boy pooled their small resources and had enough money for some cold wieners and a few candy bars. I dont know who thought up the menu, but I still remember it as one of the best meals I ever ate. At the end of that dreadful day, one can only imagine how those farmers who drove their cows to town that day felt. Surely, they must have wondered if survival was possible.
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 20:59:53 +0000