Holloween

Tales from the Backyard…For some reason our home had always been the focal point for neighbors and family.  Once a month or so friends would come with their kids, to play cards and all the kids would go into the living room to watch a new invention, Television.  We were one of the first families to get one.  Saturday was also the night we all took our baths too.  Out would come the washtub, filled with hot water from the stove and each of us in turn would take a bath, me, the smallest, always last, the water always cold by then.  On would go the clean pajamas for the visitors to see.  It was also the night that the show called “Lights Out” came on.  This show was the precursor of all following creepy shows, somewhat like 'The Inner Sanctum' and 'The Twilight Zone'.  The show always started with a very deep voiced narrator, foretelling of the nights events.  This was done with a flickering candle on the screen and then the narrator would say, “Let the show begin, Lights Out”, and at that exact moment, the candle would be extinguished, leaving the screen dark for a few seconds. You always watched in the dark.  I remember one particular fall Saturday; about ten of us little and not so little kids were glued to the front of the TV, the only light visible was under the kitchen door and from the TV.  The night was stormy and rainy making things very eerie and us very jumpy.  When the announcer said the words “Lights Out”, there was a flash of lightning and a bang of thunder, not only did the TV candle go out, but all the lights in the house went out.  Talk about screaming kids.  We ran to the kitchen seeking the safety of our parents but that room was dark too.  To this day I still don’t know if it was a coincidence or my dad pulling a prank.

Pet Squirrel

We lived on a minimum income in those years and fresh game was a staple for our diet.  But when my older brother was still around, we ate a lot of Spam.

Dad's Boss Cat

My father had a huge Tom-Cat somewhere in the 25 lb range and it ruled the neighborhood.  No dog would come near.  If it did, the cat was on it like a lion on a leopard.  The birds, squirrels and chipmunks lived in fear, it often brought them home alive to give to my mom, maybe to clean and cook it for him, who knows.  It ruled the house also.  If it was in a chair, you left it there, otherwise suffering the consequences.  We came to visit one day and the cat was sitting in its chair, Lori, about a year old then, was placed on a blanket on the floor in the living room amongst us.  After a while, the cat leaped off the chair, landing on Lori's back and then bit her on the neck as if trying to kill a Impala.  Dad chased the cat out of the house, but he never did anything like that again.  On another occasion the whole family was there for a Sunday dinner.  My sister and her husband (Lee)came and wanting to sit down, he tried to move the cat off its chair .  The cat slapped him with its paw and left its mark. Lee, not to bright, reached down and grabbed cat around the neck and lifted it to his face saying something like, We'll show you who's boss.  The cat began pumping his back legs, digging his claws deeper and deeper into Lee's arm.  Lee kept squeezing, the cat kept clawing until the cat finally went limp and then he dropped it, saying with a smug smile " I guess I showed him", at which point the cat jumped straight up and latched to his arm with all four feet and claws digging in and then bit his hand between the thumb and fore-finger, all the was through.  Then just dropped to the floor and walked away saying, 'I'm still the boss here".  Lee's arm looked like it had just gone through a tree debarker. He lived to 20 something before he passed away, and never changed.

The cat hanging

Tales from the backyard...One year my friend Terry and I went hunting up in the Arrowhead region of Minnesota. When we arrived the temp was about zero and by the next morning it was twenty some below. It was so cold I couldn't sit still and began walking to keep warm, looking for deer sign. I pushed a nice doe to Terry which he shot and after I dressed it out we decided it was to cold so drove back home. Terry's wife wanted nothing to do with hunting so I hung the doe, by the neck, in my garage to age. My daughter Lori watched with interest then disappeared into the house. Soon after I heard this terrible screeching sound coming from the back door of the house and turned to look. Lori, 2-1/2 then, had secured an extension cord around our cats neck and was bringing it out to hang next to the deer (she did whatever her dad did). The cat was doing everything it could to escape, feet flying wildly, but apparently Lori knew how to tie a good knot. I ran over and released the cat from its peril and couldn't believe, that Lori had not one scratch on her. The cat was no worse for wear.

Pauly's return

Tales from the backyard…Not to long after we moved to Forest Lake, I couldn’t sleep one night and heard someone coming up the stairs.  It turned out to be my older brother Paul, on leave from Marine Corps. Boot camp training.  I was standing at the door when he opened it and scared the crap out of him.  Had he not had 2 more steps to climb, I think his training might have kicked in and I would not be writhing this.

The Prison

Tales from the backyard…When I was in my early teens, my cousin Clint married a beautiful Native American from the Chippewa tribe of northern Minnesota and moved amongst them.  He began associating with a bad group who thought the day should be spent drinking and to cover the costs, began writing bad checks.  For this he was sent to prison on several occasions.  One day my aunt asked me to ride along for her monthly visit, and with my mother’s urging, I said I would go.  It was out of her way to come down and get me and in reflection, I think mom and her had thought a trip to the prison may do me some good.  Kind of shock therapy and I guess it worked, for out of prison I have stayed ever since.  While visiting I could here in the background different prisoners shouting out different numbers, after which they would all laugh.  After awhile I asked my cousin what that was all about and he said that they had heard all the jokes so many times they gave them numbers and when you heard a number you recollected the joke and if funny, laughed.  Could I try, I said, and he said okay, so I yelled out 27.  Nothing, not a single response, confused  I asked my cousin what happened, was that a bad joke?  He said, no, It’s just some people can tell them and some people can’t.  Alright, the last part is an very old bad joke but being a story teller I have always seen the humor in it.  So sue me…

Jasper gets even

Tales from the Backyard …Jasper loved hunting and I loved to hunt with him.  One season I decided to go deer hunting and he had to stay home.  That he didn’t like, so to get even for me leaving without him, he went to our bedroom and grabbed my down pillow and tore it to shreds.  The room was wall to wall feathers, you can only laugh.  But then I wasn’t there to clean it all up.

a pretty close resemblance of Jasper 

School time

Tales from the Backyard…When I was 4 (almost 5), school had started and I was left at home with no one to play with so told my mom I was going to the neighbors to play with them.  She said that they were at school too, and to stay home.  (Maybe you missed something, I was not 5, yet had on many occasions walked alone to the neighbors to play, it was a 1/2 mile away, try letting someone do that today).  Not to be bossed around by some grown-up, I went anyway.  About ¾ of the way there I thought better of it and began to come back when I see mom coming down the farm road, so I dashed into the woods to hide.  She went to the neighbors and not finding me headed back, furious by now, she spotted me in the woods and what a whipping I got.  On the good side, the next week I was in first grade, she had somehow convinced them I was older than I really was.

Getting Cady and Chip

Tales from the Backyard…My wife (Janice), never had pets while growing up, but had cats after she had moved away from home.  She was once severely bitten (clear to the bone) by a client’s Irish Setter so was not fond of dogs.  I was on the road all the time and I didn’t feel I had the time to devote to a good hunting dog.  When I retired I just said I’m getting a dog and set about finding the perfect one that would be a fun and gentle house pet, but also be a good hunting companion for me.  As much as I searched, one to suit my needs, I kept coming back to the Springer Spaniel, so then began trying to locate one.  That’s when we found Cady and, being a puppy, my wife was able to watch her grow and never felt threatened (how could you).  Chip on the other hand was 7 months old when I brought him home and to say he was a little hyper was an understatement.  Every day my wife just kept saying, “When are you going to find a home for him”.  In reality, I was never looking.  Soon after, it was “don’t even think of giving him away”, they had become soul mates and he was her dog.   One Day we were having sandwiches on the porch and her hand with the sandwich in it, dropped to her side and Chip in an instant grabbed it and started to swallow.  In less than an instant, she grabbed his mussel and yanked open his mouth and reached in, almost to the wrist and pulled it back out, saying “that’s my sandwich” and you could see in her eyes, holy shit, I just did that.  And then we got a third.

                                      Cady

Chip

Passing bonding energy

Tales from the Backyard…After I got Cady my Springer, I joined the New England Springer Spaniel Rescue group and did transport, evaluation and housed other dogs for a day or 2 until a home or foster home could be found.  It was great fun and I met some really nice people and dogs.  One of the dogs that came our way was a huge (I mean Great Dane size) Springer that we had for 3 days.  He was a moosh, what a sweetie.  I got a call that a possible owner might have been found, could I take him to Conn. for the guy to see him.  I said sure and made arrangements to meet him at one of the freeway rest areas between him and me.  I got there early and walked the 2 dogs (Cady and Marmaduke?) around and then sat at a picnic table and waited.  Soon a car pulled into the parking area and a guy got out and headed our way.  Always a jokester, when he had gotten 50 or so feet from us I held up my hand and said “stop”.  Startled, he did.  I told him  that the dog and I had built up this great bond over the last days and that I wanted to transfer that energy to him.  I told him to keep his eyes straight ahead, don’t talk or move.  I then knelt by the dog and released the leash and the dog just walked to the guy, circled around his back to his left side and sat down, then leaned against the guy’s leg, all without me saying a word.  I was flabbergasted.  And kid you not the guys eyes began to water.  He just said, “I’ll take him”. And put him is his car and left.  I stood there to stunned to burst out laughing and actually forgot to collect the $200 fee we charged.. 

Memories begin

Tales from the backyard…in 1945 my dad went to work on the Alaska-Canada Highway.  No sooner than he arrived, he came down with acute appendicitis and was flown back home.  I often wonder if he had gone back and finished the road and then homesteaded like so many others, how my life would have been different.  I know he would have liked it there with all the hunting and fishing and especially the drinking, everyone drinks in Alaska.  But he didn’t and we moved to just south of Wyoming MN to what I refer to as the ‘farm’.  Not a real farm, abandon years before, buildings neglected and not used, but the house stood tall and proud and was kept in good shape.  That’s where my memories began and here is where I will relate them to you.  Living on the farm did have disadvantages, the biggest one, no inside plumbing.  But we did have what was called a 2 hole’r.  To this day I never have never figured that out, maybe a family that poohs together, sticks together.  With so many divorces these days, maybe we should design our modern bathrooms with 2 side by side toilets and instead of reading the paper, we could converse, I mean text or take selfies with our poohing partners.  The big disadvantage of the outhouse was my brother, in a race to it he was always faster and always got there first.  In the winter I think he would miss on purpose just because he knew I was waiting and had to sit down as I wasn’t tall enough to stand and reach the seat top.  On some cold winter days it would be frozen already.  By the way, if we ran out of paper, we did use corn cobs or pages from the Montgomery Wards catalog, lingerie pages always last.

The Bathurst family at the farm, me, I'm the littlest.  From right to left.  Cousins Nancy and Bob, me, Sisters Shirley and Helen, brothers Paul jr and Jerry on right.

The Bike ride

Tales from the Backyard…Walking the dogs on the beach this morning a story of youth came to mind so I thought I would relate that to you….When I was seven, I, being home alone, ‘borrowed” my sisters bike to ride, you know a ”girls” bike, with the crossbar down by the chain sprocket.  It was easy to ride; you made sure the pedal was down, gave a push, stepped on the pedal with your left foot and slid your right across to the other side.  I was too small to reach the pedals while sitting on the seat so I would gain speed pedaling standing up, slide back on the seat, spread my legs and coast.  I came to a curb which I had gone over almost every time riding so thought nothing of it.  I must have not been in the seat right or something ( I can feel the men scrunch already and I haven’t even said it yet) because when the wheel hit the pavement below the curb, I slid forward and down, feet still spread, dead center on the yoke.  Have you ever hurt yourself so bad, you can’t scream, yell or cry????  All you can do is run (thinking probably that if you run fast enough you can outrun the pain), well it doesn’t work.  First I ran in circles than figure eights, then I ran clear around the block and back but when I got there the bike was gone, someone had stolen it.  I sat down to cry, not from the pain or losing the bike, but from the whooping I would get when I told my mom.  A State Trooper pulled over seeing this little boy crying, his name was John Crawford and had in later years the dubious honor of having a shootout with 2 bank robbers and killing them both.  Anyway, upon telling him he left and in about 15 minutes brought the bike back.  I have only told this story once before, because thinking of it makes me want to run. And now I’m too old for that.

The Hammer

Tales from the Backyard…When we moved to Boston, it was time for a new dog, so looking through the want ads I saw a Brittany spaniel for sale in nearby New Hampshire.  From great hunting stock and good on grouse; perfect I thought and gave them a call.  We picked him up that weekend and named him Jasper.  Small for his breed (for some reason all my dogs seem to be), he not only turned out to be a great hunting dog but was an even better family pet.  This one lived in the house with us.    His only fatal problem in life was that the other side of the road was always better than the one he was on. 
 We were visiting my 1^st wife’s parents in Minnesota when from the front lawn I saw Jasper dash across the street up by my brother-in-laws house, not a busy street, so I yelled at him to get back and saw him sneaking his way back to the road, then he started to dash across just as a car was coming.  I could do nothing but watch. (This part is really bad so if you have children around they may want to go into the other room.)  He got nailed and rolled several times under the car.  I ran to him, he was stiff as a board lying on the hot pavement, but still had shinny eyes so I could see he wasn't dead.  He couldn't move so I thought “broken back, nothing can be done”.  I scooped him up, tears in my eyes and started to the house.  All the neighbors had heard the tires screech and were at the side of the road watching.  My wife came running down the road and I said that he’s broken his back, go home and get a hammer.  The neighbors were aghast.  She began to protest but I said, this is bad enough, just get the hammer.  She did.  (Stop! Stop! Stop!  I must confess, I have embellished a bit here.  Firstly I was in shock from just seeing my dog get hit by a car, and secondly,  with no tears in my eyes when my wife ran up I probably would have screamed something like “get the fucking hammer”, but I like the first version better.  Everything else is as is.)  By the time I reached the yard with the dog, still stiff in my arms, she had arrived with the hammer.  Jasper looked at the hammer, just with his eyes, head not moving, moving his eyes to look at me, then looked back at the hammer, back to me and knowing his finality, just jumped out of my arms and ran around the house, not once but twice shouting, “I’m alright, I’m alright” just to be sure.  He was run over four more times before the last one was fatal, by then he was old and I was gone.

Biggest Trout

Tales from the Backyard… I had just bought my 6 yo son his first fishing outfit, you know the one: Rod, reel, line, hooks, and bobber all in a 3 foot plastic package.  Saturday was the big day and we were going early.  Then I heard “can I come” from three different people, my 1^st wife’s sister was visiting, they wanted to lie on the bank and sun themselves.  We got out about 11, so much for early.  We stopped and parked the car by a bridge over the Wood River and crossed the fence.  I put on a worm and cast the little poles line into the water.  Immediately I got a hit from a small trout and reeled it in.  Removing the hook, I somehow pulled out the fishes gullet, so just cast that back into the water.  Reeling it in slowly (all the time my son is yelling “I want to Fish”) I snagged the bottom so I told him when I get it loose he can have “his” pole.  I carefully pulled in line by pumping the rod very slowly and the big log was coming with the current towards shore.  This fishing hole was a big eddy and the log just went by with the current to where the main current was.  I expected it to the catch the currant and swing back to the eddy again and make a circle back to me.  It began moving upstream, now a little thing like that gets your attention.  It made big circles with and against the current several times and finally came to the surface across the river. I shouted “hey look, a small sturgeon” and they all came running down to the shore.  Then it opened its huge mouth, Sturgeons don’t have mouths that can open that way.  My legs began to shake.  This was the largest trout I had ever seen.  Shacking now all over and being a lot more careful, I managed to get it to shore about 15 minutes later where-in the hook straightened out and came out of its mouth, the rig flying past my head.  I threw the pole and dove off the bank and landed on top of the fish and scooped to the higher bank in one fell swoop.  A little over 10 lbs, still the largest trout I have ever caught, and on a 3 foot $1.98 fishing outfit.

The Polish Joke

Tales from the backyard…  One summer my wife’s grandmother passed away and she and the kids went back to Minnesota for the funeral.  Our neighbors (Jim and Donna) who had twin boys the same age as my son invited me over to dinner one evening,” be there at five”.  I was.  Jim, the chief ranger in the park, a real prude with no personality, was not home yet so I visited with Donna (just the opposite) in the kitchen while she made dinner.  Jim came presently and said he would change and be right out.  He came out and then just sat down in his chair and pulled the paper in front of his nose and never said a word.  Did I mention he was Polish?  The family had actually changed their last name from Wigginski to Wiggins.  Polish jokes were the rage at the time.  Whenever I tell a joke, I try and incorporate the listener into them, so while I was left to watch the TV news myself, I suddenly shouted out, “did you just here that”, knowing that they hadn't.  Donna said “what” while coming out of the kitchen, a large pot in her hand, and the paper actually came down a bit from Jim’s face.  I said, “Apparently, they were doing some radical surgery at the University of Sweden by removing a person’s brain and just when they had the brain out, all power was lost and when It came back on, the guy on the table was gone.  Well, it’s been six months and they just found him”, (pause, waiting for the “where”) “teaching school in Poland” I responded.  Donna burst out laughing and dropped her pot on the floor and I could see Jim chuckling under the paper.  Gotcha I thought.  

“Exhilaration”

Tales from the backyard…  “Exhilaration”, doing something that gives you a natural high.  It happened to me when I was undergoing mountain rescue training exercises in the park (Crater Lake NP).  The task was to repel off a cliff, my first time.  I was the last to go and I went off effortlessly.  Upon landing at the bottom I was totally psyched and started running down to the bottom of the slope.  I’m not sure if you know, but as rock debris falls off the face of the mountains, the small stuff stays at the top and as you progress down the slope, because of gravity, the size of the stones gradually gets larger and larger and eventually turns to boulders.  I had miss-anticipated the rate of descent and my speed instantly went from control, to uncontrollable.  My feet went from pebbles, to stones, to small rocks, to large rocks, to small boulders, and eventually to boulders taller than I was.  With each hop my speed became greater.  The sheer terror in my throat was immeasurable.   I was anticipating steps four or five boulders ahead of me in a frantic state to stay upright.  A fall would have brought the whole team back to extricate me from stupidity.  Somehow I made it down and another important life lesson was learned.  I have many onetime events in my life.

Cat Snack

Tales from the backyard…You may have noticed, we spend a lot of time on our back porch, for those who have joined us there, you know why.  At one time we had a bird feeder next to the stoop and as we were enjoying the show, something at the feeder was unusual.  A closer look saw it to be a parakeet, of all things.  My mother loved Canary's and thoughts of having birds in the house when I was young came to mind, I guess I loved my childhood days.   Anyway, out stealthily I went.  Each time the beak went into the feeder, I inched closer.  Soon I was within grasp and that’s exactly what it did.  I don’t remember the childhood birds reckoning so much pain on my fingers, but I held on just the same and in a box it went until I could find it a proper cage.  I could have saved the money as the bird never did use it much.  It was free to fly and sit where-ever it wanted and even with the screen door of the porch wide open at times, it never ventured further than the porch (told you it was nice).  It stayed with us for over ten years and at times you could see the cat rolled in a ball on one of the chairs, Cat Snack (the name of the bird) sitting on the back of the chair and the dogs (only 2 then) at the foot, all asleep.  As the bird grew older,  she couldn't outrun the blades of the ceiling fan anymore and that’s how she finally left us. 
I still miss her.

The Fox and the Poodle

Tales from the backyard…  People save both vacation time and money to make, for maybe once in their life, a trip to one of our grand National Parks.  Living in one is an enjoyment one cannot express.  We called them, “our back yard”.   When I first started my career in the Park Service at Crater Lake there was a no dog rule.  We had a dog.  We had made arrangements to give our toy poodle (for those who know me, can you believe it) away the next week and got permission to keep her for that long.  About the third evening, I let her go outside to do her thing and just then a fox ran across the back yard.  What a beautiful sight, it was the black faze of the red fox and her spring outfit contrasted elegantly with the 4 feet of snow left on the ground in May.  They spotted each other at the same moment and off went the poodle before I could grab her.  The fox took off at a very slow trot, just fast enough to stay ahead of “Tiger” (the dogs name), who was determined to catch it, what then, who knows.  When the fox had lured her, what she thought was far enough away, she spun around and the tide was turned.  Instantly and luckily for Tiger, she also got the point and spun around and onward they came, hell bent for election.   I didn’t think poor Tiger could run that fast but I guess when you have to, you will.  When the fox got to close, Tiger somehow put on the after-burner and made it back to the porch just in time.  No tasty meal for the fox that night.  We didn’t laugh until much later.  We gave her away to a 10 yo boy in town who carried her everywhere in the basket of his bike.

The Crows

Tales from the backyard…Soon after we moved to our home in NYC, we were enjoying a Sunday morning on the porch when I saw something hop across the driveway.  My thought was cat, but cats don’t hop.  Just then I heard mother crow call out a warning.  Aha, thoughts of my childhood of having a pet crow came to mind and although my wife didn't like the idea, I ran out and caught it thinking new pet and then brought it back and sat on the back stoop calming it down.  Mother crow had other ideas and let out a series of distress calls and soon a few more crows showed up.  With each new crow came more calls and more crows showed up.  It was “The Birds” time at the Bathurst’s house.  Soon the sky had hundreds of circling crows and the surrounding trees were full as well.  The noise level was intense.  Our house is flanked by 3 different churches and this happened during the arrival of all the church goers.  I still chuckle when I wonder what they must have thought with the sky full of so much evil. They did go inside a lot faster than normal.  I let it go.

The Squirell

Tales from the back yard... As I and the dogs were resting on the back porch, I noticed Cady (my tri-color Springer Spaniel) interested in something in the way back of the yard. It was a squirrel and although this is normally Thai's domain, she wanted it. So I gave her the okay and off she went. The squirrel was facing the opposite way from the oncoming threat and seemed to not care either for it just sat there. Cady, not knowing which way it was going to bolt, just kept on going. The squirrel didn't move and Cady hit it with a thud, and they both went rolling down the little hill. They lay, side by side, prostrate, with feet in the air. I could here them thinking, " what the hell just happened". In a few seconds they both woke up and off they went, but I, with tears in my eyes, couldn't stop laughing.