My Grandfathers Were Animal Trainers

My Grandfathers were Animal Trainers

Dan Reel and J.F. McKee weren’t much alike. Dan was tall, slim and fun-loving; J.F. was short and pretty stern. But they did share some fundamental characteristics. Both were Iowa farmers, all their children went to college, and both were animal trainers.

You’re probably expecting me to tell you about Dan’s big collie, so well trained that he would go to the pasture and bring in the milk cows all by himself. That’s not the story, although I can tell you that I was pretty impressed since all the McKee dogs that I knew did well to come when called for food! No, my story is about imposing discipline on animals in ways that helped little people cope with life.

First of all, you have to understand the farm layout in the 1890s when Mabel Frances Ridley Havergal McKee was going to the Scotch Ridge country school in Allen Township. The farm straddled the north-south road that would later become U.S. Highway 65/69. The eastern part lay in Allen township, the western part was in Greenfield township. Later rules would require attendance in the district school serving the township where students were domiciled but in those early times before such bureaucracies were entrenched, land ownership in the school’s district was sufficient. The farm itself was laid out very differently from today’s configuration. The barn and all the animals, except the chickens were on the east side. The house[1] lay on the west side. Therein was the problem.

Mabel was expected to get herself to school on a horse that was used to going home to the barn. Imagine a six year old on a horse riding proudly off to school on her own only to have the horse turn right and go back to the barn. In tears she managed to turn the horse around and get back to the house where she was met by J.F. “Daddy, this horse won’t let me go to school,” she said. He got on with her and they started off again; once more the horse turned toward the barn, but this time a quick slap with a switch showed the horse his error. Mabel rode on that day and for the rest of the year with no more problems.

I personally benefited from Grandfather Dan’s animal training on two occasions. One of my first responsibilities on the farm was to haul feed in my wagon to the young chicks.[2] The problem arose when a young rooster decided that I was invading his territory. I’ve never been to a cock fight but this young creature clearly didn’t need any instruction for entry into the ring. Furthermore, he wasn’t intimidated at all by a six year old Harris whom he attacked with vicious pecking every time he could. Imagine now a crying Harris done in by a rooster; it seems pretty petty compared to the six year old Mabel above, but I believe that an attacking rooster can do more damage than a horse ignoring its rider. In any case, the solution was much the same, this time provided by Grandfather Dan who showed me how to slap the rooster on the side of the head with a stick in a counter attack. The rooster learned very fast and after the second encounter never bothered me.

I mentioned that Grandfather Dan helped me on two occasions with his animal training. The second case was fully as personal but it related to my interaction with my peers rather than with a farm animal. My Uncle Harry, younger brother to my mother, had been quite an athlete and starred in football. Grand father Dan related to me that Harry had shared with him that in a pile of football players the pile could conceal some actions at the bottom that might otherwise be considered unsportsmanlike. As part of this discussion, he showed me how to twist someone’s arm in order to gain the upper hand. Shortly thereafter, I used this technique on Dickie Jensen, who was a year older than I and somewhat bigger.[3] I must say it bolstered my confidence but looking back now, I realize that I was the trained animal in this case!

[1] This house was moved from the west side to the east side about 1912 or 1914 when the new house was built on the west side. Once moved, it became the quarters for the hired man and his family until it was torn down about the time Highway 65/69 became a four lane divided highway.

[2] I had a WWII era wagon that was made completely from wood because all the metal that would have been used in a Radio Flyer had been diverted to the war effort.

[3] I didn’t realize how mean this was until my cousin Wayne received a broken arm as a ninth grader as the recipient of a similar arm twisting adventure.

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