By Andrew Brown
The squirrel tails lining the 145-year-old barn rafters are like the chronological history of the Barnitz family. The exhibit of boney and decayed tails represent four generations of the Barnitz family tree.
And if that collection is not enough of an indication that the Barnitz’s are hunters, the aged deer antlers hanging on the wall are.
The musty smell of old wood and crisp bales of hay are intoxicating. The variety of unique objects, positioned throughout the barn, send your eyes racing in every direction.
Cobweb-covered horse collars hang from the wall, most likely relics from Frank Barnitz’s grandfather’s days spent as a teamster.
The rusted blade from a two-man saw is wedged above the calf pen, a leftover from the Ozark Mountains’ logging boom of the late 1800s.
An iron winch, casted in Ireland, sits on the barn floor, its bristly ropes still hanging from the roof.
The antique oat sifter stands among the barns support beams, retrofitted with an electric motor, ready for another 100 years of service.
The cracked and worn saddles hang in a separate room, like convicts at the gallows.