The bull

11/11/15  Tales from the backyard:  One morning while I was bow hunting a small woodlot not far from home, not having any luck, I started to return to the car across this meadow.  In the middle were two cows eating lazily, so, not wanting to disturb them, I cut up a small knoll, intending to drop down into the small valley and skirt around them.  Just as I rounded the hill, to my left I saw a huge bull standing about 40 feet away, looking at me.  At that time I was directly between him and his cows and he didn’t look happy.  It was about 150 yards or so to the fence and I knew if he came at me I would be toast, so I just continued walking hoping to get past but he began pawing and snorted a warning so I stopped.  I knew I couldn’t out run him and he wasn’t going to let me walk on so I just turned and began running straight at him yelling.

He then raised his head in astonishment so I turned and walked back to the truck to get the toilet paper.

A farewell to Cady

 Sitting here on the porch with Cady’s head in my lap, as usual, my hand caressing her soft silky fur.  Watching away the beautiful fall day, a lonesome fluffy cloud drifts by contrasting with the blue sky and the fall colors.  A vulture floats past and circles in the thermals, does it sense death is in the air?  A cat walks across the yard, Cady lifts her head but doesn't stir, her legs unable to hold her weight from the sudden onset of terminal cancer.  It seems like only yesterday we brought this black and white puppy into our lives.  It was just last week I took the dogs out on her now last hunting trip.  She just followed me around, thinking she was getting old, I let her.  Three days ago she was acting like a puppy again as her and Thai were goofing around as usual.  Now today she cannot stand, so we sit on the couch, me afraid to leave as she might go without me being there and her wanting to be in the flower bed, her favorite place to lull away the day.  I have succumbed and put her in the Hosta bed after another failed attempt of getting her to pee.  

The money clip

Tales from the backyard..  I was taking a bath this evening and as I stepped out onto the bath mat, I remembered some 20 odd years ago how I obtained it.  I was taking a course at Harper's Ferry, one of our training centers, and after class was walking around the old historic town, alone as always, taking in the history of this wonderful place.  At some point I reached into my pocket and upon pulling my hand out, my money clip with over a hundred dollars slid out and onto the sidewalk, without knowing, I kept walking.  One of the merchant’s across the street saw this and went over and found the clip, but I was long gone, too far to be hailed back.  Two nights later, walking the same area, I was hailed by the young owner of the store and she asked if I had been here two days before.  I said I had and she asked if I might have lost something, I said I did, “my money clip”.  She invited me in and handed me the clip with all the money.  I offered her a reward but she refused, but she couldn’t refuse a sale and so I purchased our $100 lovely handmade rag woven bath mat that matched our bathroom.  The world is so wondrous.

Jeans

When we moved to Chisago City, MN, my mother, for whatever reason, always dressed me different then my brother.  I was never allowed to wear jeans like him, always khakis and a button down Ivy League shirt.  I felt that I could get into Yale just for the cloths I wore.  One day in the eighth grade I revolted and after breakfast, snuck back upstairs and took my brothers old ratty jeans he wore around the house and put them on and ran for the bus stop.  Little did I know that I would be setting a trend, albeit 50 some odd years later, with blown out knees and rips across the thighs and without a belt they hung so low I thought I would trip.  It was one of those, “what the fuck is that kid wearing” kind of days.  Needless to say I went back to wearing Khakis’.  Never did make Yale.  Being stupid, I could have been President.

Longest Ferris wheel ride

Tales from the Backyard… One year a small traveling carnival  came to Chisago City (my home town) and set up next to and in the park in front of the then Post Office.  Around six, my friend Ron and I started to walk around and as a storm was approaching (in those days you had to look up not on a screen and no weather alerts) we decided to be the first on the Ferris wheel to beat the storm.  We were loaded and the operator was moving us to the top to load more passengers when this big gust of wind hit and down came the torrential rain and hail accompanied with flashes of lightning and the immediate sound of thunder.  Everyone ran for cover, including the operator.  We had nowhere to hide and were pelted mercilessly for about 20 minutes as we went round and round, laughing all the way.   When out popped the sun and we finished the ride soaking wet,  we weren't even charge us extra for the extra long experience.

The Red Bellied snake attack

Tales from the Backyard…  We had family friends we used to visit while on the farm and they had a son my age (Dennis) and we were good friends and even when we moved to Forest Lake, I used to hike back out to where he lived and play for the day.  I was ten and full of adventure.  Their neighbors had a barn full of stuff, one of which was an old rail road hand truck, the kind used for moving workmen along the tracks by pumping up and down on the handles.  We got excited and thought we would put it on the tracks again and take off for parts unknown, but it was so heavy we couldn’t even lift one corner.  On the way home along the tracks I surprised a Red Bellied snake basking in the sun.  Rather than slink away, he started to attack.  Luckily the railroad bed is made of rocks and at ten nothing got away alive, but by the time I finally hit it with one, I think I had made a hole about a foot deep; such was my accuracy with throwing objects.  Later

Very first job

Tales from the back yard…   When I turned 10, I was able to work and I got a job at Houles Berry farm in Forest lake picking strawberries.  After toiling away in the hot June sun that first day, I realized that this was not going to be my career and after making 70 cents for the day, I quit.  That was the first of many jobs I would have in my life that I would just walk off.  No 2 week notice, just see ya.  Hey, it worked fine for me.

Spring Rain

Tales from the Backyard…  Sitting on the back porch looking out at the various flower beds, sipping an iced tea having just come in from weeding, nothing spectacular at this time of season, our tween time.  The spring showy flowers have come and gone, then the Irises with their spectacular blooms (thank you the Presby Memorial Historic Iris Gardens for your contributions) and only a few left amongst the slender stalks of flowers past.  The peonies have come and gone in days, it’s so dry.  A fluffy cloud passes and drops a few sprinkles, not enough to moisten the dry soil.  Looking out I see the Hollyhocks have come in bloom, how did they take over my yard.  The Salvia is in full bloom in the bee garden and is being used.  The apple trees have for the first time in 20 years, little bunches of apples.  The plumb had a full complement of fruit but they all fell off,   its coming down this week, as well as the ornamental pear.   Janice said she is going shopping, “what kind of beer do I want, Sam I said”.  She leaves as another cloud passes from west to east as usual and she said “looks like more sprinkles”.  The cloud does a 90 degree turn to the house and by the time she gets to the end of the driveway its pouring.  That was 40 min. ago and it hasn’t stopped. The lightning is so intense Chip is barking to chase it away, and Cady is shivering, something she has never done.  She crawls in my lap and immediately stops, then hops down and goes inside.   Janice just got home, the backyard is awash, from the sprinkles I guess.  Did I mention I love my back yard.

Thunder storms

Tales from the Backyard…Probably the best days of growing up on the farm was when it stormed.  The lightning would flash and the wind would howl in the trees and rain would fall and it was time for my brother and I to go out and round up all the pretend cattle in the woods.  We would mount our pretend horses and off we would go, running madly through the storms, from one end of the woods to the other, much to my mother chagrin, but she didn't stop us.  One storm the wind was especially bad and trees started crashing to the ground around us and here she comes through the rain and wind and falling trees to collect us from the storms wrath.  She couldn't call us in, the wind was too loud.  We didn't resist… After we moved to town and my brother got sick with Rheumatic Fever, we were never close again.

Boat vs Van

 Tales from the Backyard…  Heather mentioned we are  looking at another boat and it got me to thinking of all the misadventures I have had in boats.  The first I will relate to you is after a day of family fishing the mouth of the Williamson River in Mass., I brought the boat back to the ramp and docked.  I told my son of 14 to back it back out and trailer it, after I brought the van and trailer back down.  He was ecstatic, but the current was at its steepest, sideways to the ramp and my son, after 3 failed attempts to bring it in straight, just said he couldn't so he brought it to the dock and everyone switched places.  As my family and onlookers were watching, I backed up, came in slightly against the tide and revved it a little and up the trailer we went.  A little too fast and I hit the winch station hard and bounced back, which knocked me forward and down I went with my hand still on the throttle and off we went again, I hit the winch and bent it over and into the back of the van I went, a perfect ten, as I hit dead center of both doors.  Even above the roar of the engine I could hear the gasps of the onlookers.  Nothing to do now but take a bow and start laughing.

Kids are Kids

Tales from the Backyard…  Kids are kids where-ever you live and park brats are no different.  There was a 3 and 4 year difference between ages from my son, the twins and the older boys they wanted to play with.  The older boys really didn't want the younger kids around so one spring they said to the boys, if they go over and eat those plants, we’ll let you play with us.  The young ones would do anything, so they did.  Unfortunately the plants were False Hellebore, which when young are deadly, they were young spring plants.  One of the park rangers (Dave Panabaker) just happened to be driving by and stopped to talk and see what was going on.  Realizing what had just happened; he rushed the three tots away towards the twins’ home and gave each of the boys some Essence of Ipecac to get them to throw up.  Leaving the twin boys to their mother he rushed to our house with our son and the news.  We called the hospital, about 60 miles away.  Their response was, get them to throw up or if they don’t, rush them down here, “BUT ITS PROBABLY TOO LATE.”  What a thing to say to an already stressed out mother.  Donna called, the boys just threw up, we rushed Tom to the bathroom and he did also.  Enough weeds to kill a horse.  None had any ill effects from it and from then on left the plant eating to the deer.

Dowsing

Last night as I couldn't sleep, I remembered an interesting story about my work in Acadia NP.  I was there for the summer running odd projects, one being, to replace the dilapidated water line for the park.  At the Jordan pond house, we had to dig through the lawn, somewhere in it lay a high voltage electrical line.  I have always had this kinetic energy about me.  I could never wear a watch, as after a couple of days they all just stopped working.  Even as a youngster as I walked down the streets at night, the street lights would go out and then come back on as I passed.  Probably a mere coincidence but after a while it was disturbing.  One of my friends in the park was a dowser and I asked if I could borrow his rods to locate the buried cable, which he did and showed me how to use them.  I arrived at the site and began walking the path of the new trench to be dug and soon the rods became active and then magically crossed.  I marked the spot and walked away, turned and reversed my travel.  They crossed again at the very same location, so I put out a flag and sprayed orange paint, marking the location.  The next morning, the contractor found the line exactly as marked.  Telling this to my wife who was visiting that weekend, she said I was full of it and she wanted to see for herself, so off we went. I walked the line and bang, the rods crossed right at the buried cable.  She said " I don't believe it, you must be manipulating it somehow".  I said "you try".  She took the rods and walked the line and nothing happened and she yelled "see".  I said just a minute and with her over the cable with the rods outstretched I came up behind her and with my thumbs and fingers pinched her ears, one in each hand and immediately the rods crossed.  Taking my fingers away, the rods went straight again.  She said "do that again", the same thing happened and she could only say "I can't believe it".  Ah to have the magical power.

The littlest goose

Tales from the Backyard…  Two friends from work wanted to go goose hunting with me so I took them to the marsh and after rowing out we covered the duck-boat with grass and waited.  The geese were flying about a half mile high that sun filled day so I just called and called hoping something would come our way.  Then suddenly, one goose dropped from the sky and headed straight for us.  The geese I had been shooting ranged about 20 or so pounds and are pretty big.  I told my friends to keep low and I would tell them when to shoot.  When the goose was what appeared to be the right distance, I said fire and they jumped up and began shooting.  The goose dropped about 10 feet in front of us and almost sank it had so much lead in it.  It was a Lesser Canadian and weighed only about 5 lbs, 15 when they finished shooting.  My calculation in distance slightly off.

Knott's Berry Farm

Tales from the Backyard…  One of the things my navy buddies and I liked to do on shore leave was to take the bus to Knott’s Berry Farm and cruise for girls.  It seemed to be a military thing to do as all branches were represented, all doing the same thing.  One night we met about a dozen Marines and were exchanging greetings when I asked one of them where he was from.  He replied, Texas, with that slow Texan drawl.  I said No kidding, I could sense the jabber around us quieting down, and then asked, What part?  He said in the same drawl, South Texas, and I said, What town? He replied, Austin, and then everyone was quiet and had moved in closer, wanting to hear two people from what seemed the same area, connect, so I said, No shit, what school did you go to?  And he said Austin High.  With each answer I grew more excited and I knew I had them all now so I said, What year?  And he replied, ’61, a No shit again and added, Did you play football?  Even the slow Texan was into it now, and said yah, and I said What Position? He said half back and I said, Me too.  Then he finally responded with his own inquiry by asking, Where did you go to school?  And I said in a slow Texan drawl,  “Minnesota” and the whole group burst out laughing, even the Texan.

California surfing

Tales from the Backyard…  In 1963, in the Navy, I was stationed in Long Beach CA and on my days off would go to Huntington Beach and hang out with friends and do body surfing.  I eventually made a body board which greatly improved and stretched out the rides. I had become very proficient and was always looking for that bigger wave and had heard of a great beach just north of San Diego.  So one day I hitched a ride south and tried it out.  It was called Scotchman’s cove and had huge waves, the only problem was they broke only at the beach, most beaches have two breaks, so you had to roll out before they crashed to the sand.  That day the surf was about 8 feet and I was having the time of my life.  As I was waiting for the next big set (the big waves come in threes at seven wave intervals), I saw a big wave coming and got myself ready.  The let the first go by and just as I started to swim and get up to speed, I saw that the wave had sucked out all the water in front of it and there was nothing but bare ground about ten feet straight down.  The wave had already crested and I tried to roll out but the wave just spit me forward and out of it and I crashed head first into the beach and then tons of water came crashing down on me and sucked me out into deep water.  Luckily I can hold my breath for a long time because this wave wanted to keep me.  Rolling into a ball,  I eventually surfaced and finally made it to shore, tired and sore and called it a day and headed back to the ship.  My one and only time to surf the cove, and life lesson, never surf alone.