Fenns share childhood memories

#Middlebury

Ellen Fenn, left, and her brother, Robert (Robin), grew up on what was then called Brookdale Farm and is now called Fenn Farm. (Janine Sullivan-Wiley photo)

By JANINE SULLIVAN-WILEY

It was the story of the horse and the summer storm that first reeled me in, told by Robert “Robin” Fenn and his sister, Ellen, during one of the Brookdale (aka Fenn) Farm tour days. I wanted to hear more about their experiences growing up on the farm.

This picture of Robin Fenn, left, and his sister, Ellen, was taken around 1946. (Photo courtesy Robin and Ellen Fenn)

During their childhood, Brookdale Farm was a working dairy farm. Fresh milk from the farm was delivered daily to Waterbury and Middlebury homes and schools. The 34 or so milk cows produced 450 quarts of milk and cream for daily delivery in glass half-pint and quart bottles.

The farm had electric milking machines, but Robin said they lost power a lot in those days and then had to do the milking by hand. The milk went into the pails, then into 20-quart pails with lids and handles to be lugged to the dairy. “It was hard work,” Robin said

Dairy cows weren’t the only animals on the farm in those days. There were dogs, horses, cows, rabbits (who added to their numbers about every 30 days), chickens and many cats (who added to their numbers twice a year) sharing life on the farm.

There were usually four horses – two for riding, and two that were work horses, Tom and Dick. (Had they a third, perhaps it would have been named Harry?) Both siblings remembered a particular summer storm that came on suddenly. Robin was about 8 at the time, and remembered old Tom was a bit skittish.

The farm hands were clearing the hay up by the shed on the hill. It was hot and muggy, and they hurried, using the dump rake and forks, to get in the hay before the rains started. Old Tom was standing there, munching on the hay, hitched to the wagon. The men were happily back in the barn, mission accomplished before it poured when Gilette (one of the farm hands) said, “We forgot Tom!”

This was followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. They ran up the hill. Tom was nowhere in sight. Meanwhile, Art Blick, who ran the Middlebury garage down the hill, heard a tremendous clatter and went out and found Tom standing in the open bay with the rake wagon still attached. Robin said, “They just drove him home, none the worse for it all.”

Another tale involved the family bull. “He eventually got so mean we couldn’t keep him anymore,” Robin said. An event that led to his departure happened one day as they led the cows into the pasture. The bull broke out of the barn. They heard him before they saw him, bellowing as he charged down the lane that led along the fence to Artillery Road.

The intrepid young Gilette, thinking this very exciting, positioned the new truck to block the lane. Robin, then a boy, was in the truck and thought it exciting, too. Undeterred, the bull charged straight ahead – right into the truck. “His horn went right into the truck, behind the passenger door, and dented it,” Robin said. Presumably the bull was a bit dazed by the impact as they were able to slip a lead back into the ring in his nose and take him back to the barn. Robin said of being inches from the horns of a charging bull, “I thought it was great!”

Clearly their life was more exciting – one might even say dangerous – than what young folks experience now, or did off the farm in those days. Ellen recalled other kids liked to come there precisely for that reason. She said they would jump from the upper floors of the barn onto the hay piles below. One young boy from South Street didn’t even bother aiming for the hay piles: he would jump from the upper floor to the grass without getting hurt.

And then there was Gilette, who loved to drive fast, even when Robin was on the tractor with him. Robin said, “He was flying down the dirt road, and hit a rock. I went flying off the tractor in front of it, arm outstretched and my head on my arm. I pulled my head out of the way, but the tractor tire went over my arm.” The worn tread on the tires (the tire marks clearly visible on his arm) and the relatively soft dirt of the road presumably saved his arm. Robin’s mother was not pleased. “How she did light into him,” Robin said.

He recalls his youth as wonderful – full of excitement, fun, and adventures.
Clearly the farm we all so enjoy as a beautiful sight today has a beautiful history of hard work, exciting play and wonderful memories for those who grew up or worked there.

Visit the Middlebury Land Trust website, www.middleburylandtrust.org, for more information about lands owned or under conservation easement. Contact this writer at jswspotlight@gmail.com.