Uncle Bob Roliff and his wife Eleanor farmed their land on Stroup road in Atwater, Ohio. In the summer they raised hogs, in the spring they ran a maple sugar camp. During the summer and autumn Bob chopped and sawed wood – tons of it, to fire up the maple sap boilers. No chain saws were used, just axes and two man crosscut saws, so it was difficult and strenuous work. I guess it didn’t hurt him since he lived to 96 years of age. Part of the farm consisted of 100 acres of timber, mostly sugar maples. My dad often took me hunting there for squirrels, rabbits, and pheasants. I also spent time with Uncle Bob when he was gathering sap and making syrup, so I have many fond memories of this place.
Uncle Bob’s was the only place I remember that had no electricity. If I recall correctly, this was about 1940 and power lines had not yet been strung down Stroup road. In the evening they used kerosene (they called it coal oil) lamps and at night they just went to bed since it was too dark to read. The place seemed rather dingy in the evening because an oil lamp didn’t cast nearly as much light as an electric bulb.
Aunt Eleanor also taught math at Atwater High School. Her father was a former preacher and very strict. He had a farm about a mile down the road and also made maple syrup. It was said that he poured the sap out on the ground that ran on Sundays because “That sap belonged to The Lord”.
Uncle Bob had a team of horses that pulled the plow and the sap wagon in spring. One of the horses was blind so the other horse in the team had to furnish eyes for both. Bob was so used to having horses that when he finally bought his first John Deere tractor, he had some trouble getting accustomed to running it with pedals instead of voice commands. He recalled one time pulling the tractor into the barn and when he said “Whoa” the darned thing didn’t stop, so it ran right through the back of the barn.
Bob also had a hen house as most farmers did at the time. He often had trouble with raccoons stealing the eggs and foxes killing the chickens. Dad told the following story:
One night while in bed, Bob heard a commotion in the hen house. He got up to see what was causing the trouble. He didn’t sleep in pajamas so he was wearing his long johns. Slipping into his rubber knee boots, Bob picked up his shotgun, loaded it, slowly and quietly sneaked around the corner with the gun poked forward, loaded, cocked and ready.
About this time his trusty hound dog pussyfooted up behind him and stuck his cold nose in the trap door of his long johns.
After the smoke cleared there were 6 dead chickens. Dad laughed when he told this story and said that if it had happened to him there would also have been a dead dog.
