And The Little Bells Were Ringing
Do you remember the old song titled “The Three Bells”? It was a golden oldie that was first released in 1948 then the Browns re-did it the 60’s I believe. It was a great hit that played on the country radio stations I grew up listening to. The words were simple but there was the additional bells to enhance the tune. It went like this:
There’s a village hidden deep in the valley
Among the pine trees half forlorn
And there on a sunny morning
Little Jimmy Brown was born (Bung, bung, bung, bung)All the chapel bells were ringing
In the little valley town
And the song that they were singing
Was for baby Jimmy BrownThen the little congregation
Prayed for guidance from above
“Lead us not into temptation
Bless this hour of meditation
Guide him with eternal love”There’s a village hidden deep in the valley
Beneath the mountains high above
And there, twenty years thereafter
Jimmy was to meet his love (Bung, bung, bung, bung)
Our bull barn is a rectangle but is used like a T-shape. When I am bundling firewood, I am standing at the bottom of the T looking toward the north. The bulls who wander around in the bull pen have free access to the crossbars of the T and can come and go into and out of the crossbar area with the manger between us along with a big stack of hay in their half of the barn with firewood and equipment on my side of the rectangle. I can’t see the bulls if they are in the barn when I am bundling because of the haystack between us and the fact that I’m facing the wrong way. Once and a while I hear them come in for a snack, or when they are in the loafing area when they let out a big sigh, or a cough, or there is a mild skirmish going on. But usually I only notice them when they are outside the barn peeking in at how my work is progressing or when they listen along to my current audio book.
It was shortly after daybreak, right after I had my morning feeding finished in the my show barn, I walked out to the bullpen to get some much needed bundling done before it was time for the bulls to be fed. I figured I had about of half-hour at the most to spend on this endeavor.
I was into a smooth working rhythm. My audio book was deep into a saga, I was concentrating on making nice, neat bundles when I heard distant chimes. We are more than ten miles from the nearest church so I knew it could not be that we don’t even have a clock on the farm that chimes. I stopped bundling to listen again, an almost imperceptible bing, bung, bing, bong was wafting on the breeze. I turned off my audio book and listened again. DEAD SILENCE.
Assuming it was some kind of anomaly of the wind or my mind playing tricks, I turned the audio book back on, and commenced with the bundling. As I stepped onto the foot pedal to activate the wrapper I again heard, bung, bong, bong, bing. I turned the audio off and walked away from the wrapper for a better look, errr make that listen. Again SILENCE.
I tried the wrapper without the audio book and the bing, bing, bung was heard again, but the sound was not coming from the wrapping machine. I walked around the hay stack and the bulls were all in their area of the barn waiting patiently for their breakfast to be served. No bells, so snuffling or any noise whatsoever.
I went back around the haystack and as I started to form the next bundle the bells began once again. This time I snuck around the edge of the haystack and found where the sound was coming from.
The bull manger (where they stick their heads in to eat) is made out of heavy gauge metal bars that are welded onto an even heavier metal frame. The bars themselves are hollow in the middle, some of them are slightly different sizes to match up with spots so their heads fit in without letting the rest of their body into the manger. One of the bulls was using the metal bars to rub his itchy booty. As he rocked his hips back and forth against the bars, his tail did it’s own little jig bouncing back and forth on the metal bars with each of the bars emitting a little tone as the tail struck it.
Every time I stopped work or peeked around the haystack, he and the other bulls expected to be fed, stopped all movement along with the music to see if that was indeed the case. Once I ducked out of their view, the itching thus music would start up again.
The mystery of the barn bells/bull bells had been solved! Bing, bing, bing, bung!
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What a great story and what a great sleuth you are. I remember the Jimmy Brown song, too. And I’ll bet the musical bull enjoyed the bell tones as much as relieving his itch.
Bing, bong, bing, bong, booom!