The picture above is an image of the old corn crib and behind it is the stall where we housed our old horse “Bob” and mule “Daisy” when I was a child and living on the farm. The stall shown behind the crib had 2 separate stalls, one for Bob and the other for Daisy.

We used the crib to store a portion of our corn harvest each year and would use it to feed the animals including the horse, mule, my Ma’s chickens and biddies, and hogs  each day. It was in this crib where my Pa taught me to shuck corn when I was maybe 5 years old for the horse and mule each afternoon. I do not really know why he felt it was necessary to shuck the corn before feeding it to the animals but it was just something we did. I know they could have eaten it with the shucks on as our neighbors never shucked their corn for their horse and he still ate it. I guess it was just something Pa wanted to do to be nice to the old horse and mule.

It was also the place where we would gather up ears of corn to be shucked and run through the hand powered corn sheller shown in the picture below to feed to the chickens each morning and afternoon during feeding time. Scattering this shelled corn on the ground and watching the chickens and biddies come running from under the barns, from out in the garden, from behind the old chicken coop and where ever else they had been to start pecking the corn kernels up is a picture in my mind that is always there.

I wish I had pictures of Bob and Daisy to insert but could not find any at this time. But, Bob was a large black horse that was on the farm before I was born and lived over 20 years. Daisy was a light brown mule that had also been on the farm from before I was born and was still there when I left home at the age of 20.  They came to my mind this week for a particular habit both of them had if they had been out of their stall for a period of time. This habit was that if they were given the opportunity and many times even when not necessarily given the opportunity, these two animals would head to the stall. I can recall several times when my brother Silas and me would be riding Bob out around the farm land and he (Bob) would look toward the barn, put his ears back and head that way whether we wanted to go or not. The closer he got, the faster he would go steadily moving from a walk to a trot to a gallop and to a full run with us hanging on for dear life.  Once at the barn, he would stop and just stand there, waiting for us to dismount and put him in the stall.

Likewise, with Daisy. If we were out in the garden doing a little plowing with her and she took the notion to head to the stall, her plowing for the day was over. I have seen her head down, ears back and my Uncle Homer holding up the plow while she went to the stall. He would be hollering “Whoa! Whoa! Gee up here! Haw here mule!” and her moving on toward the stall paying him no mind at all. Thought it was pretty funny sometimes to witness this event though I don’t think it was funny to him.

Anyway, the reason this came to my mind this week was I was away from home for several days at a business meeting. The longer the week went, the more I was beginning to feel like Bob and Daisy. I was ready to head to the barn of Bonifay , my home and my bed. Finally, when Thursday got here and the meeting ended, I was forevermore ready to go to the barn. When the old truck cranked up and headed north first toward Jacksonville and then turned west on I-10 headed toward Bonifay, I was like Bob – the closer I got to home the faster I wanted to go to get there.  Finally arriving at home at about 5:00 in the afternoon, I got out of the truck, took a deep breath of air and gave thanks to the Lord for letting me get home.

I guess Bob and Daisy were a lot like me and others – That being there is no place like home.