(Introductory notes: Some of the Olferts’ children are mentioned in this portion of their homesteading story. As you can see in the photograph following this paragraph, Dietrich and Kathrina Olfert had five children: Elsie, born August 1, 1918; Elvin, born April 30, 1923; Linda, born April 16, 1927; Ethel, born April 25, 1931; and Marilyn, born February 5, 1934. Elvin used to boast that he was a remarkable child, because he never fought with his brother–an easy task when one has only sisters! The sickness mentioned in this account with which Marilyn was afflicted was Sydenham chorea, also known as St. Vitas dance. The photograph of Elsie’s tombstone is included where she is mentioned in the account because of the uniqueness of the tombstone, which is found in Mountain Lake, Minnesota. The front of the tombstone has the names and information about Elsie’s husband and his first wife, with Elsie’s name and information on the back of the stone as his second wife. Elsie was buried on that back side of the stone! His third wife was buried with her first husband, also in Mountain Lake. The only sibling who is still living is Ethel.)
When Elvin was old enough to stand up by himself, I would hold him up on my outstretched arm and balance him on my hand. The proud papa holding his arm straight out with Elvin standing on his hand. What a picture that was! Kathrina’s heart almost stopped when she saw what was happening. Help was scarce in the early years, and I had my five-year-old son, Elvin, driving truck for me. I had to make some adjustments, but it proved to be a satisfactory setup. When Elvin was about five years old, I asked him to steer the truck to the end of the field and turn off the engine. While driving, he looked behind him to see if Dad was coming, and so he drove into the fence. Elvin also came down with a case of diphtheria, and the Model T almost flew to town to get the doctor and some serum. Elvin was named after the doctor who removed D. M.’s eye.
One day when Elsie was two or three years old, six Indians came into the house. In those days they usually didn’t knock, but just came on in. I was not home and Kathrina was there with the baby alone. She was so frightened that she almost passed out, but prayed for strength. The Indians indicated through signs that they were hungry. Kathrina fixed food and fed them. While they were waiting, the Indians began to play with Elsie. They like her and Kathrina was so afraid that they would coax her to go with them and steal her—then what would she do? After they had eaten, the Indians left and didn’t take Elsie, much to Kathrina’s relief. She was very frightened, but sincere family devotions were held that night, thanking God for His protective hand. The Indians from the reservation hunted and picked berries in the Lustre community. They hunted coyotes and deer. The homesteaders were happy they did this, because the coyotes were very plentiful and did more harm to the stock than good.
Those were the good old days. I remember when we got the first combines. Aaron Dick and Karl Reddig and us and Gus Lentzner. We four each ordered a Rumely ten-foot combine, pull-type, and we brought them all from town together to our yard. We had a big yard. The service man came and told us how to set them up. They were not all assembled. They were all in pieces, so we really had a time. Oh, boy, did we ever work bolting those things together. Then we each ordered a four-foot extension for the headers. Just think, we had a fourteen-foot combine. Whoopee! That was something. We thought we were big shots. When they were all done, each took his combine home. When harvest came they all had to learn how to run the combines. So did we. We combined our wheat and had a fairly good crop. The children (from 5 or 6 years of age on up) had to learn how to drive the truck and haul the grain and scoop by hand. There were no rubber tires. The wheels were on cleats or lugs, and no power steering. You know that the tractor made a lot of racket, and away it went.
One harvest Ethel drove the grain truck across the prairie from the fields to the farm. She would always kill the engine. Elvin told her to put her foot on the gas and go. She started out too fast and veered to the side, driving over the fence. She took a lot of teasing about her driving, and the bent fence was left as a reminder. Another time she couldn’t make it up a hill and kept going part way up and down, up and down, until she overcame her fear and made it to the top.
Fires were an ever-present hazard on the prairie, with all the grass, and during the dry years some fires were disastrous. One such fire started in the north with a fifty-mile-per-hour wind pushing it across the dry grass. The fire was burning a sixty-foot path in some places. The farmers out there could think of only one way to fight the fire. They got the biggest cow they could find and killed it. Then they split it right down the middle and suspended it between two horses. The horses got on either side of the fire and dragged this carcass over the fire. The meat wouldn’t burn and the body fluids helped extinguish the fire. Even small fires were a hazard. Once when a fire started in the pump house, the girls worked hard to put it out so that it would not spread. Looking around, all they could find on the spur of the moment was the rubber floor mat, so it was used successfully to beat out the fire.
When Kathrina helped in the field, she would put Elsie in a cheap coaster wagon where she would have to sit or sleep as Kathrina pulled her along. When she went down to the creek to get the cows, she pulled her too. Often it was so bumpy that Elsie would cry. The next time mother would meet the neighbor, Mrs. Henry Reddit, she would tell mother that she heard Elsie cry.
In 1942, at the age of 8 years, Marilyn got very sick. She spent 2 weeks in the Glasgow hospital. Kathrina was with her every day. After that she was confined to bed at home for six months. She remembers how very caring and helpful her parents were and how creative they were in entertaining her.
One time Kathrina went to get the cows southeast of David’s land, about a half mile from home. Remember that there were no fences and the livestock roamed free and had to be rounded up each night. A large coyote or wolf was there. One cow started walking, mother followed, and the other cow followed with the coyote beside her. The cow watched the coyote very carefully all the way, protecting mother. Finally, when she got close to the barn, the coyote turned away. At first she thought it was a big dog, but found out it was too big. The coyotes killed many sheep and calves in those days.