Page 87 of The Very Virile Viking

After that they entered the animal barns. And she might have thought Magnus had entered heaven… or his Viking Valhalla.

He touched each of the cows and examined them closely, calling them by name. Their names and those of their owners were on wooden plaques above the stalls. Messy Bessy. Madonna. Surfer Girl.

Guernsey Girl. Holstein Hannah. Lucky Lady. Sylvia.

In one barn, modern-machine milking as well as old-fashioned hand milking was taking place. Magnus was incredulous over the milking machines and wanted to know all the details about the kinds and amounts of milk produced by the different breeds of cows.

Then there were the bulls… mean-looking dudes, these were. Brutus. Elmer III. Seventh Son. Brown Boy. Black Beauty. Cool Bull. Samson. Bull's-eye. Fred.

The animals had ribbons of various colors beside their stalls to denote how they had been judged in the various events at the fair. Many of them had been raised by youngsters as 4-H projects.

While Magnus mooned over the cows and discussed milk production, new breeds, and prices with the owners, Angela had a bigger job with Lida: keeping her from stepping in cow poop.

A little boy, about eight years old, was weeping over a calf at the end of one barn, where his father was

trying to console him. Apparently the calf—which had been born at the fair—was ill and might have to be put down.

Magnus stepped forth and asked what was wrong.

The father looked at him askance, but answered nonetheless: "The calf is starving to death. Won't take milk from its mother. Won't eat any of the special feed we mixed for her." He shrugged, and the message was clear: this calf was dying.

Magnus knelt down in the straw beside the reclining calf and said, "Let me take a look."

While he pushed the calf's eyelids back, opened its mouth and examined its tongue, even smelled its breath, the boy's father asked her, "Is he a veterinarian?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Just a farmer. A good farmer."

The man knelt down beside Magnus then and the two of them talked seriously while Magnus continued to examine every inch of the ailing animal. "The calf has mold disease in its stomach. 'Twas probably passed on by its mother. The disease has little effect on the adult cow, but is too much for the little one to fight," Magnus finally pronounced. "It must needs get a hot gruel mixture… a cupful at a time every hour till it will feed on its own. Force it down, if necessary." He then told the man exactly what ingredients should be in the gruel.

The man appeared skeptical.

"What have you got to lose?" Magnus said.

They both stood and shook hands. The young boy reached out his hand to Magnus, too, and whispered tearfully, "Thank you."

After that they moved on to pigs. Her favorite was a huge pig called Mud Stud. His "girlfriend," the sow in the next stall, was called Dirty Mary. According to Magnus, Vikings ate a lot of pork and used all parts of the animal, including the hide and bones—even the hooves and nostrils. That was true of the cows, too. Yech !

Next, they visited sheep, goats, chicken, and ducks.

At the "New Age" barn, they also saw ostriches, buffalo, trout, snakes, and alligators, which were also farm animals to some. Magnus couldn't believe his eyes. He laughed with delight. He talked excitedly. He shook hands and exchanged stories.

This was a new Magnus, one she had never seen before. Here he was in his element. Here he did not hesitate. Here he held himself with pride and authority. Here he acted as if farming was a noble profession… which, of course, it was.

If she hadn't known it before, she did now.

Magnus, the man she loved, was a farmer… plain and simple.

A man of many talents…

"Would you like to see me plow?"

Angela wiped the soapy foam from her eyes and stared at him through the frosty glass of her shower stall. "Magnus! It's midnight, for heaven's sake! What are you doing here?"

"All that exposure to farmers at the fair today reminded me where my true talents lie. I have come to show you my technique for… plowing."

"Naked?"

" 'Tis the best way," he said, stepping into the stall and closing the door after him.