Life on a Wisconsin Farm 



five years, and, never having seen oxen before, 

 we looked at them with the same eager fresh- 

 ness of conception as we did at the wild animals. 

 We worked with them, sympathized with them 

 in their rest and toil and play, and thus learned 

 to know them far better than we should had 

 we been only trained scientific naturalists. We 

 soon learned that each ox and cow and calf had 

 individual character. Old white-faced Buck, 

 one of the second yoke of oxen we owned, was 

 a notably sagacious fellow. He seemed to 

 reason sometimes almost like ourselves. In the 

 fall we fed the cattle lots of pumpkins and 

 had to split them open so that mouthfuls could 

 be readily broken off. But Buck never waited 

 for us to come to his help. The others, when 

 they were hungry and impatient, tried to 

 break through the hard rind with their teeth, 

 but seldom with success if the pumpkin was 

 full grown. Buck never wasted time in this 

 mumbling, slavering way, but crushed them 

 with his head. He went to the pile, picked out 

 a good one, like a boy choosing an orange or 

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