Grandpa J was a mighty man. Though of average height, a lifetime of farming and good genes he was barrel-chested with the arms of a blacksmith. A man to be reckoned with, he didn’t tolerate fools lightly. It was unlikely any of his neighbors would have wanted to tangle with him, so he was mystified to find someone had been slipping in and stealing corn from his corncrib at night, but it was the depression and times were hard.
Determined to put a stop to the theft, Grandpa and his son,Frank, made their way to the shed well before daylight, Frank carrying a shuttered lantern. Grandpa whispered, “When I open the door, open the shutter.”
Sure enough, when Grandpa flung open the door, the lantern revealed the thief. A half-grown white-face yearling stared blindly at them. Reacting instinctively, Grandpa hit the surprised bovine between the eyes, knocking him out.
Grandpa jumped back, cursing and cradling the fist he’d just pounded into the unconscious yearling’s bony head. Enjoying the story later, one of the family asked Frank, “Did you laugh?”
“Hell no!” He replied. “ He still had one good fist.!”