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.

Jasper and the company

Tales from the Backyard…I hate training dogs, but if you know my dogs, as some of you do, they are well mannered (for the most part).  Jasper fit it that category also.  During dinner time his place was to be in the kitchen while we ate in the dining room.  He would lay on the kitchen floor, with just the tips of his toes into the dining room, I guess so he could feel he was not totally left out and wait for us to finish so he could enter.  We had company for dinner one evening and as we were eating and I was expressing my thoughts during the conversation, I noticed in the corner of my eye, Jasper trying to sneak past as my back was turned, the excitement of the evening to great for him I guess.  Without raising my voice or stopping to correct him, I just added “your place is in the kitchen”, to the middle of whatever it was I was saying.  He turned and went back and lay back down in his spot.  The company just shook their heads in disbelief saying, “I can’t believe he just did that”.  They do what’s expected of them, and he was a great dog.

The Woodduck

Tales from the Backyard…  One of the favorite things we used to do as a family was to drive through Carlos Avery Wildlife Sanctuary and look for wildlife in the evenings.  It had Deer, Bear, Pheasants, Grouse and thousands of ducks.  One day as we were driving my dad stopped the car and said “there’s a Wood duck in that tree.  I was 4 or 5 at the time.  After much coaching as to where it was, I finally saw it and after watching for awhile, shouted, “It’s not a wood duck. I just saw it move”.

Spats

Tales from the Backyard…While on the road (working a different park than where I was stationed) I got a kitten, a black Maine Coon with white face, chest and paws, we called her Spats.  She was one of those once in a lifetime cats that was aloof but friendly, all the neighbors knew her.  She would sit outside and watch for people coming up the sidewalk and run out to greet them.  She always came when called and when I was traveling, her favorite spot was around the steering column in the instrument pocket.  One day she disappeared and the whole neighborhood was on watch, but after 2 weeks we gave up hope, thinking someone else probably wanted her more.  Then one morning on my way to work I found her on our walk, trying to crawl home, totally emaciated.  She must have gotten trapped someplace and couldn’t get out.  She died in my arms bringing her inside the house.  But she didn’t leave us; she moved with us to Staten Island and often still jumps on the bed like she used to at our Newburyport home.  The first time was when I went to bed early and I thought Tush, our new cat, jumped up and walked across the bed over to my feet, then began walking up my leg.  When he got to my hip, I reached down and said, “Hi Tush”, but there was nothing there, only empty space with footmarks in the blanket.  She doesn’t come that often anymore, maybe because of the dogs, but I know she is still around.