The last of a Dying Breed.

My grandpa Huneke was a farmer and horse lover.

I'm not sure how he did it , he would spend all day walking behind a horse and plow, raising the plow by hand,and dragging it across the ground while turning to plow in the opposite direction.
As the sun would be setting in the west, he would come in for supper, only to go back out after eating to feed his horses, pigs, and chickens.

By that time it would be dark,and with a little  free time, he would sit by the kitchen stove and smoke his pipe, all the while  thinking about what he had to do the next day.

When he wasn’t working in the fields, he would be hard at work performing the many duties necessary to maintain the family farm such as fixing fences or cutting wood with a hand saw to provide heat for the coming cold Indiana winter.

My cousins from Indianapolis would often visit in the summer  and grandpa would let us sit on the corn  in the corn crib and make rows in the corn cobs by shelling the corn away.

 I often wondered why he didn't complain about all the corn we were wasting until I realized the chickens were grazing under the corn crib. We were feeding the chickens while we were playing. The guy was smart, we thought we were getting away with something but we were actually saving him work .

He truly loved his horses, after retirement and because of health issues, he sold the farm and his horses. It wasn't long until he passed on to another world, hopefully to be reunited with his  faithful steeds.

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