As The Butter Churns

August 27th E-i-E-i-O

(barn swallow babies - leaving the nest, but not the barn)

A couple of weeks ago the phone rang, it was Awesomez.

    “You’re never going to guess what Nick said today.” 

    I took the bait. “What?”

    “He said he wants to live on the farm and go to school in Washington. He hates the school here and says he needs a change.”

    “Really? Is he sure? I mean do you really think he’ll go through with it?”

    “I asked him that and he seems sure. Let’s give it a couple of days and see, but I think he’s serious,” she said with a heavy heart. “Mammoth hasn’t been a happy place for him in a long time and I told you I saw a different kid when he was on the farm. I think he really likes the animals, especially Luther and Henry.”

    I told Henry, Nick was a possibility, but I also told him what a huge decision this was and that Nick could back out at the last minute. Henry said he understood, but he was joyful. I was worried he’d get his hopes up and be really disappointed when Nick changed his mind.

    The funny thing is, Nick didn’t change his mind. He arrived today anxious to start school. Awesomez came with him to get him registered and settled in. 

On the way to the airport Henry turned to me a bit teary and said “Mama, Nick coming here is a dream come true for me. I’ve always wanted to have a brother.”

“You have Craig and  Laura, but I know it’s different, they’re older and don’t live with you right?”

“Exactly, I love them, but they’re not kids.”

“It’s not going to be all easy you know”

    “I know. Nothing worthwhile is easy. Isn’t that what you always say?” He said with a grin. I really hate it when he quotes me.

(Nick and Henry make their way to the van)

    Their flight arrived at bustling Bellingham International about 2:00PM.  We stopped by the feed store to get some more food for the geese, chickens and turkeys. As I walked in I saw the “For Sale” board on the wall. Anyone can write an ad about something they want to sell on the white board as long as they date their ad, so I made a snap decision and picked up the green pen. “For sale rare, heritage..."

    “Mom! What are you selling? Rare, heritage what?”

    “…Cotton Patch Geese”

    “Who?” Henry demanded. “Not Lloyd, you wouldn’t.”

    “No. Quackmire, he’s charged Phoebe for the last time.”

    “Look Mama, look at the ad above yours, they’re selling Cayugas. You’ve always wanted a Cayuga! And they’re only $5.00!”

    Henry was right I had wanted a Cayuga. I’d researched Cayugas and just hadn’t pulled the trigger, but here they were right in front of me.

    “Come on Mom, Cayugas.” Before I knew what I was doing my fingers were dialing the number and a woman answered the phone.

    “Hello, I’m calling about your ad, do you still have the Cayugas?”

    “Yes, we do, they’re three left,” a woman said on the other end of the phone. “How many would you want?”

    “Well, I’m just listing a couple of my geese now. I wasn’t actually thinking about getting Cayugas today, but my son noticed your ad. How old are they?”

    “They’re two months old now,” she said slowly as though she was calculating their age.
    “So they’re about full grown then?” I asked.

    “Yes they are. Uh, what kind of geese do you have?”

    “Cotton Patch, they’re a rare heritage breed too,” I told her.

    “Really, well I really miss having geese,” she said wistfully.

    “Perhaps we could work a trade?” I suggested.

    “We might just be able to do that. Let me speak to my husband and I’ll call you back.”

    “Looking forward to hearing from you,” I said as I hung up. We bought two bags of Flockraiser™, stopped at the market and went home.

    We’d been home about ten minutes when the phone rang. “Hello?”

    “Hello, Denise, this is Laura and I spoke to my husband and we’d like to work out the trade. We’d like the geese,” she said.

    “Great, do you mind if I give you three? You see, I have a perfect male, Quackmire and he is attached to Ruthie, but she has a condition called Angel Wing and so she’s not really good for breeding so I’d be happy to give you LuAnn as well,” I babbled.

    “You know, I’d rather just have two, we’re really trying to downsize, but I don’t mind having Ruthie and her Angel Wing. We’ve taken rescue geese before so that’s just fine,” Laura said. “Can we do it now? This would be a good time to catch them and we’re so busy the next few days I don’t know when we’ll be able to do it.”

    Awesomez was less than thrilled and truth be known I didn’t blame her. She’d driven from Mammoth to Palm Springs so her father could see Nick before he left then caught a plane from Palm Springs to Bellingham, gone to the feed store, the market and was finally home when I informed her we were going to catch geese and go get a few Cayugas – almost all the way jn Bellingham, a mere thirty minutes or so – forty-five if Tom or Awesomez are driving.

    “Ducks? Really? Tonight? Do we have to?” She nearly whined.

    “They’re not just ducks, they’re Cayugas, rare, heritage black ducks with a beetle green sheen and she wants Quackmire. I’ll go by myself,” I said.

    “No, I’m coming, we’re all coming” she acquiesced. “I don’t want to be a downer I know you want them, I’m just tired.”

    “Heck ya” Nick chimed in.

    “Besides, Old McDonald had ducks” I reasoned.

    "Mama,first we got a horse, then another cow, today a kid and ducks," Henry pointed out.

    So we caught our feathered friends, put them in a dog carrier and headed off for Squalicum Lake Road. It was a nice street I’d not ventured down before. Large pieces of land all for sale it seemed. We quickly located the house and Laura let us in. They had a rabbit, ducks, chickens of all kinds and a peacock.

(Quackmire and Ruthie are in the carrier)

    The boys quickly disappeared into a tree followed by some dogs while Lisa and I chatted with Laura and her husband. They showed us around their coup and told me tips on the chickens for the winter. We met the ducks and saw Quackmire and Ruthie’s new pond. It was tough to leave Quackie but I was happy to see where he’d be living and know he was in such a nice place. I thought of Lisa and saw her looking at Nick who was laughing and running around. It was taking a lot of love to do what she was doing, helping her child find his place, and I didn't know if I would have it in me if the situations were reversed. I hope I would.

(due to the extreme heat they're pond has gone way down - in this picture you can only see a small portion, the other part is obscured on the left where it wraps around)

(Quackmire in his new coup)

(Quackmire peeks)

(Henry and Nick explore)

(Henry and Nick hold the new Cayuga ducklings)

(Henry likes the new ducks)

 

    Laura explained her last pair of geese had charged one of her kids knocked the child down, mounted the kid on the back and pinned her. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Quackmire’s never done anything like that.” I assured her.

    Laura continued and told us her grandson who is thirteen comes over and has no one to hang out with, so she wondered if Nick and Henry might like to come back sometime and meet him. Henry and Nick took one look at the tree house, trampoline and bonfire pit and agreed readily. 

    We were just about to go when Nick and Henry went in the chicken coup to look at the Frizzle and the peacock. Lisa and I were chatting with Laura and saying good-bye to Quackmire when we heard the screams followed by two boys charging out of the chicken coup. It seems the peacock had taken exception to being held and flown over Nick’s head scaring the living horse manure out of them.

(Henry and Nick try to take home a stow-away)

    On the way home we couldn’t stop laughing about the looks on their faces. 

    “Do you think she’s going to like Quackmire? He’s difficult compared to her ducks.” Henry asked.

    “Oh my gosh, didn’t you guys hear about Laura’s other geese?” Awesomez asked laughing.

    “No what?” Henry asked. “We were playing in the tree.”

    “Her geese attacked her kid and mounted her!! You guys are weak. Quackmire never committed assault and battery. You can’t even take a little goosing” Awesomez taunted.

“True in the goose world, that’s a felony, Quackmire’s only gone as far as a misdemeanor.”
    

(On the way home)

   

August 19th Cow Girls

  (enjoying the chicken show and the shade - Alex, Riley and Christina)

     We worked a deal reminiscent of a baseball trade, Beckie (on Lopez Island) was buying a couple of Milking Devons from Ruth who was buying Anna from me by paying Susie for Gnatalie, while Amber did the vet checks and Hannah all the hauling from Missouri and back.

    At about 10:30AM Hannah called and in a chirpy voice and told me she and Gnatalie were only twenty minutes away. Shocked as I was moving kind of slow, still shuffling around in my pajamas and slippers with hay sticking out of my hair. I sprang into action jumping into my coveralls like a crime-fighter donning a cape. I still had a few things to get things ready for Gnatalie’s arrival, but first I had to get Anna, Abe and Andy up from the pasture.

    Getting those chowhounds was actually the easy part as they’ll go anywhere for a bucket of grain. I was more worried though about loading Anna into the trailer. I though I could use a couple of pipe corral gates to form a chute. Henry and I were just gathering one of the gates from the pasture when Hannah happened up.

    Cheerful and confident Hannah with her French manicure, pink tank top and sunglasses, was quite a cowhand. Actually a barrel racer in a hurry to get back to Missouri for a rodeo, she was undaunted by my concerns over loading Anna. Too bad Little Chris wasn’t around I think he would have been smitten.

(Barrel Racing Hannah from Missouri)

“Oh it’ll be no problem,” she said as she whipped the twenty-four foot trailer around as though she were backing up my van. “We’ll just try and load all three then let the boys out. People have the most trouble when they get the cows worked up. If they just let the cows be cows they’ll be fine” she said with experience. “But first we’ve got to get your new little heifer out of here”.

    “I’ll take her!” Henry piped up.

    “Great, you can put her halter on and just walk her around” Hannah suggested.

Hannah opened up the divider and out popped fuzzy little Gnatalie. She trotted down out of the trailer sweet as anything. Confused and nervous she looked around. Henry called her name, hugged her then slipped her halter over her head and gave her a few berry treats. Gnatalie thought that was a fine How-do-you-do.

(Our first peek)

(Here come Gnatalie!)

(Henry and Gnat get acquainted in the Evergreen state?)

Now for Anna, the plan was for Hannah and I to go in with the three cows and move them toward the trailer. Tom was manning the gate. I went over the plan with him one more time to be sure we were on the same page. He rolled his eyes at me.

    “I know, I know” he said, “I get it”.

    “OK, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I figured I’d better be clear before something went wrong and had her horns in my face” I said.

    All three cows headed for the end of the trailer and were eyeing it cautiously. Hannah put grain just inside the entrance and for no particular reason Anna hopped in. Tom and I looked at each other in disbelief. Lickity-split Hannah closed the trailer partition and Tom closed the gate. Abe and Andy stood there wondering what kind of Cris Angel trick this was. 

    Gnatalie does not act much like you expect a cow to act. She’s my third breed and I’ve never seen a cow so brazenly curious, independent and brave. Irish, Vivian, Rat-Bat and Luther can run most cows around because they run. Gnatalie meets the world head on. Which is a little intimidating to a goat, a sheep and five dogs.

(Irish gets a taste of his own medicine)

(Gnatalie goes all Deli and tries to find a way out of the paddock)

(Gnatalie takes over where Edward left off  finishing off the goose pool - it no longer holds water)

(Gnatalie meets Christina)

(Bruno is amazed - little cow, little cow cupcake)

(Gnatalie is shorter than my pickets - a long way from Pancho and Lefty)

(Me and Gnat)

(Gnatalie's favorite snack)

(Henry feeds Gnatalie over her head to keep dominance - like reaching up for an udder)

(Henry and Gnat enjoy some quiet time)

    We absolutely adore her, scratch her and hug her. Henry goes in her stall where the two of them are snug as a bug, and Tom and I can’t get enough of her but Gnat wants more companionship than us. Her cries sound like an elk bugle.

    So far, no one really wants to be her friend. The goats think she’s too pushy. The sheep are sure she’s too pushy. The boys won’t let her sit with them, and the equine think she should learn her place. You see naïve Gnatalie simply did not understand a donkey’s need for personal space. As a result, Miracle bit her square on the nose and Gnatalie cried more hurt than wounded. Like any girl, she just wants to be herd.

August 18th You Gotta Stick To It

(A Winnie The Pooh- sized honey pot)

     I’m not going to save the farm working at the Everybody’s Store for minimum wage weeding the garden or making sandwiches. Of course, there are other benefits, it forces me to take showers, put on make-up and talk to people about things other than how to help a limping goat (Rachel) or what dimensions a stall for a horse and donkey to share should and if tom’s are more aggressive than roosters.Just like the old days minus the manicures and waxings.

    Mike and Donna (our faithful bee mentors) and Tom and Henry and I are now officially Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey™. Determined to turn Henry into the Paul Newman of honey by bringing pure, raw, unfiltered honey from the North Cascades to shelves everywhere. After all, Paul Newman didn't invent spaghetti sauce.

    Our strategy is trying to enter a fairly saturated local honey market by trying something, not new, but different. Honey Sticks. My friend, Lisa (Hemstreet  - Lisa #4) sent me a covert picture she took at a fair in Orange County. Honey sticks are not new, but they are also not really branded. They’re generally only available at fairs and some specialty stores, so inspired by the Everybody’s Store’s Landjaeger a small unit of meat which sells for a dollar seventy-five (by the hundreds) and is available in regular and spicy, we decided this was way in to the market.

    Since that time, we’ve been working on Henry’s Handy Honey™ (plain sweet honey in .2 oz servings – great for a healthy treat or for lunches) and Stingers™ (spicy versions for more adventuresome palates). Of course, we’ll also sell jars and hopefully sundry other products. Now, if we just wanted to sell honey retail like at fairs and on roadsides we could pour it into jars, slap a label on it and be done. However, once you start adding spices and selling wholesale it gets a lot more complicated.

(Mike straining the olive honey we're using to test with - straining is different than filtering. Filtering is a process that includes heating and depleting the honey of some of it's positive properties)

(Red Stinger trials)

(We experiment with different Stinger™ recipes-Mike and Donna taste the results)

(Henry is filling the first sticks while Donna reads the instructions and supervises)

(Donna lines up the tester sticks)

(Henry heat seals the tester sticks)

   To sell wholesale this requires a plethora of paperwork. You must register yourself and your hives with the Washington’s Department of Agriculture and then apply for a food-processing license, create a business and get a tax identification number. You have to use an approved Health Department inspected kitchen and have your recipe analyzed, draw schematics of the kitchen, write down and draw the steps of producing and packaging your product, describe your sanitation procedures and your delivery methods and provide liability insurance. This is not for the faint of heart.

    All of this seemed doable except the kitchen. I knew I would never ever pass inspection on this farm with five dogs and three cats in the house. Donna and I thought we were kaput until I heard of kitchens you can rent and then happened on Skagit Valley Organics. Ryan Haldane and his wife, Nell built a beautiful kitchen in the middle of nowhere for farmer types like us who want to package value-added products and can’t because they don’t have a fancy shmancy kitchen. My friend for instance makes a great goat cheese but has to sell it to acquaintances as dog food because he does not produce it in an approved kitchen.

    I called Ryan, explained our situation and asked him what he’d charge for us to process our honey at his place. “Ten dollars an hour” was his response. Ten dollars an hour?
   
    “Can I come tomorrow and take a look at it?”

    “Sure, how about 3:00PM” Ryan offered and I agreed

    So armed with our enthusiasm, Henry and I left Tom home to continue working on the Dutch door for the turkey enclosure. We had to hurry because I got off work from the Everybody’s Store at 2:00PM and Henry had gymnastics at 4:00. To help make things go more smoothly, Amy drove Henry the seven miles down Mosquito Lake Road to Acme and we were on our way.

    Henry and I drove along the highway following the directions I’d scribbled on a take n’ bake pizza box because even our navi, Loretta, didn’t recognize this place. Slowly, we turned into a driveway and made our way to the back of the property. People out here don’t like nosey trespassers, so I was a tad hesitant having a smallish child in the car.

    “Hey, are you Ryan?” I asked hopefully.

    “Yes, Denise?” He answered with a smile and came walking toward us.

    “I’m so glad, I didn’t want to drive up someone’s property and it be the wrong place.”

    “Yeah, that might not go over so well huh,” he concurred.

    I parked while Henry got out and shook Ryan’s hand. We followed him over to a building and walked in. It was so out of place and unexpected I felt as though I was walking through the looking glass. Inside was a completely modern industrial kitchen painted a soothing shade of mint green. It had everything, even Hobart mixers and a place we could store some of our stuff so we wouldn’t have to haul it all back and forth. I think I heard a chorus of Halleluiah.

(In the kitchen with Henry)

(Skagit Valley Organics Kitchen SR20 in Sedro Wooley)

(Henry is ready to bat clean-up)

(View with the door open of Ryan's house)

    I asked Ryan a million questions, Henry tried out the bathroom and we took pictures for Tom, Mike and Donna. Ryan offered his help whenever possible and said he had a schematic of the kitchen he could dig up. He also mentioned a class I should consider at the Northwest Agricultural Business Center in Mount Vernon. I jotted that down thinking maybe Donna and I could take that together.

    “Yeah, I’m glad this will help you out and maybe down the road we can trade time for honey” Ryan suggested.

    “Well, we hope to be longtime customers” I said gratefully.

    “As a farmer, actually, I’m originally from Eugene, I wanted to help other farmers out and so we decided to build this kitchen for catering and packaging”

    “I wish I was a better farmer. My garden this year did ok, I got some tomatoes and beans, but the goats ended up devouring my blueberries and lettuce. I really could garden in California, but I need a coach here” I admitted.

    “Don’t feel bad. I was just about to bring my crops in and a herd of elk destroyed it all and I mean all last night. I didn’t get one thing and I know what I’m doing,” he laughed wryly.

    “Wow! Elk, we just saw elk the other day, a big bull and a cow and my mom stopped the car in the middle of the road, grabbed my dad’s camera, climbed the bank and completely disappeared into the forest. I was really nervous when the forest swallowed her up, but she came out” Henry added.

    “I didn’t get the shot it was too dark and my lens focused on the trees instead of the cow. I've been trying to get an elk for two years, but something always happens” I said as we shook hands and left.

    On our way to gymnastics, I called Tom. “The kitchen’s perfect. It had everything we need and it’s really only $10.00 an hour with no minimum”

    “That sounds great. How did you leave it?” Tom asked.

    “I told him we had to get our inspection lined up and I’d be in touch. Oh you know what, he lost all his crops to a herd of elk last night”

    “Did he actually see them?” Tom wondered suspiciously as doesn’t really believe there are that many in the area.

    “No, but he saw their hoof prints in his field” I said defensively as I hung-up.

    “Elk! Mom!” Henry said pointing out the front window to the right. And there they were, Ryan’s thieves in the night. We parked and got out. I started walking through waist high grass to get a better view when something sizeable moved in front of me and I came rushing back to the side of the highway and Henry for safety. I decided I could see just fine from there.

    “They keep coming out of the bushes like stars on the red carpet” Henry marveled. “Look at him! He must be the head guy,” Henry exclaimed. "Did you finally get your picture?"

(Elk cow and her twin calves)

(Elk herd)

(Here comes the big guy)

(Six-points on this buck)

    “Aren’t they beautiful?”

    “Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, I think there are about thirty, but it’s hard to tell,”

    “These must be the freeloaders from Skagit Valley Organics”.

    “Ryan’s field. Maybe you should give him a picture of the big guy,” Henry suggested. “Look at those babies, all those guys had to eat something”.

August 17th How Now Brown Cow

    (Andy, Anna with downward horns and Abe in front - hear my calls and come running out of the forest)

     I’d brought Anna and the boys up to the barn with the assistance of my trusty bucket of grain. They came willingly and eagerly in fact, it would have been a one shot deal into the paddock if Fast Eddie hadn’t decided to play a little game of horse-around-with-the-cattle. I gave Quinn a lead rope and she held the prankster around the corner out-of-sight. And without another mishap in they went.

    A couple of sips of ice water later Amber drove up in her vet truck to examine Anna for the Health Certificate and Tuberculosis check required by Missouri. Amber and I quickly released Abe and Andy, rigged two pipe fence gates together with lead ropes and built a “clamp” type area. Shooing Anna in and rewarding her with another bowl grain. In no time flat Amber had the blood she needed from Anna’s bum and the Lucky Strike Extra, we got the halter on her. Little Chris Donaldson had failed miserably in his attempt to get Anna’s halter on after roping her ‘til she was overheated and breathless. We got it done in minutes without anyone getting too stressed out. Of course there was an eensie bit of bucking, and horn tossing, but truly it was minimal. I felt so Helen Reddy.

(Doctor Amber Itle and Anna in our makeshift clamp)

(Anna sporting her halter)

(Anna is pretty in her new ensemble)

    The results came back fine and Anna was issued her certificate and could now legally cross state lines on her way to Ruth. Every time I looked at her and the boys I felt like a home wrecker. They’d been together since they were born, hence all the ‘A’ names.

        I called Ruth. “I know this is silly, and you probably think I’m a real city-girl with out a lick of cow sense, but do you think they’ll be traumatized when Anna leaves?” I inquired knowing I was revealing my over-emotional soft under-belly.

    “Well,” first she is a real Devon" she started softly. I could tell by her tone she was trying not to be insulting or condescending. “You see, uh have you ever read “Animals in Translation” by Temple Grandin?”

    “No I haven’t”

    “She’s an animal scientist and autistic. She’s been responsible for many changes in our food system to make things more humane. You can really learn about animal body language from her”.

    “I’ll get it” I assured her.

    “You really don’t have to worry about Anna, cows settle down in the trailer and just relax after awhile. Once she gets here she’ll be in a herd of thirty. Cattle of all ages”.

    “Thirty! You have 5% of the world’s population of Milking Devon’s” I realized aloud.

    “Including her grandmother. And remember Anna's going to be a mother soon”.

    “Really, that’s why I’m doing this. I know she should be with so few Milking Devons around. And honestly, she’s just not the cow for me. She’ll eat out of my hand, but she’ll never let me scratch her. I want a pet cow.”

    “Uh huh. Speaking of that, this is how I see the exchange happening. I won’t be able to come due to work so I’m sending Hannah with the rig and the cattle for Dave and Becky first to Lopez Island, then she’ll go pick up your new Dexter heifer and then come to you”.

    “Oh, I’m confused, I thought you were sending one of your Irish Dexter’s”.

    “No. I only have Milking Devon’s" It sounded so elitest when she said it, "so I made an arrangement with a woman out there. Your new heifer is a bit older than we first discussed. She’s a year old, but she’s halter broke and used to being pet”.

    “I see,” I said, but my heart was sinking. I’d wanted a calf. The kids were all excited about a young thing they could snuggle and raise like Norman in ‘City Slickers’. “Is she black? I really want one of those deep black ones, I know they also come in a brown.”

    “She’s black. I’ll send you a picture,” she promised and I went back to work.

    I had to break the news to the kids that our new cow wasn’t going to be what we’d expected, but that perhaps it was better this way. I sold it. Or at least I tried.

    “Mammmmma, I really wanted a baby,” Henry complained, sounding so Angelina Jolie.

    “Well, maybe it’s better this way, what if we didn’t handle the baby right and she wasn’t snuggly. This way, she already is” I rationalized.

    Then I got the picture. The little heifer was adorable and I was surprised she was so close by. I was feeling pretty good about things until I read:

    Ruth,

 I have enjoyed talking with you. Here is the picture I got of the heifer this evening. She has been registered with the Purebred Dexter Cattle Association (PDCA), and her official name is Pixie Forest Ms Hannah. She was born on April 7, 2008. Her sire is Pixie Forest Montana and dam is N'ewe Life Anna. She has been haltered and trained to lead, although as I mentioned it has been some time since that was enforced. She has not yet been bred, but many Dexter breeders wait until the heifers are 2 years old to do, so she still has some time yet to take care of that. Feel free to give my contact info to the  other party along with the note that I now have other yearling heifers for sale, and will have some weanlings available around November.

    If you have an idea of when the driver will be in my area that will help me fine-tune my schedule. Thanks  for your business.

    Susie Hensrude

    Pixie Forest Farm

(the heifer)

    Of course, I thought she was adorable, but now she was a year and a half old and she wasn’t exactly sounding snuggly.

    “She keeps getting older and older. First she was six months then she was seven months then a year and now a year and a half? Is she done aging?” Tom said skeptically.

    “I know, that’s why I put a call into the lady at Pixie Forest Farm and we’re going down there this afternoon to meet “Hannah” and a little three month heifer. I told her we didn’t have to get her now we just wanted to get the right one. She told me her Dexters are like puppies and she wants them all to go to the right home, before we drive north to Lynden for the fair we’re going  south to Pixie Forest Farm” Tom stood there and for a moment I wasn’t sure what was going on in his little pea brain from the look on his face. I considered he might be annoyed at me for cramming so much into one day – again. He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

    “Come on Henry you’ve got to get going, we’ve got a big day ahead of us” Tom called up the stairs.

    “We’ve always got a big day, what’s new?” Henry called back and Tom shrugged.

    “Do you think we’ll like the older one or the younger one?” I asked Tom as we made our way down the I5 to Lake Stevens.

    “The younger one. I’m sure the little girl will tug at my heart” Tom said.

    “What about how the older one will feel?” I worried about her not getting picked. The truth is I wanted the younger one too.

    When we drove up, Susie showed us into the first pasture of yearlings. I couldn’t believe how little they were. “From Pancho and Lefty to this?” Tom said.

I turned to Susie, “Our first cattle were oxen, Milking Shorthorns as tall as my van”.

(Tom in the pixie forest)

   

(Our Pancho, the sweetest Milking Shorthorn oxen next to Lefty there ever was)

    There she was the one in the picture Ruth had sent, but it quickly became apparent Hannah whose father was named Montana wasn’t to be our cow.

    “She’s not very friendly” Henry noted. He was right; she was friendly, but not as much as I wanted to like her she just wasn’t what we’d imagined. “Who’s this?” Henry asked Susie about a heifer who kept rubbing her head against us to be scratched. She wasn’t really a contender because she was brown.

    “Oh that’s Natalie. Her name is spelled with a “G” because she’s so small. She’s Gnatalie like a gnat. She was one of the hardest heifer’s to win over, but now she’s really a people cow” And she was, she kept coming up and putting her head under my arm. It made me giggle, but honestly I didn’t want her she was not only too old, but brown. I wanted something else - I wanted a black one.

(Susie, Hannah and Henry)

(Susie, Gnatalie and Henry)

    “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I asked Susie.

    “No not at all, Lu will show you where it is” Susie said. I followed her niece, Lu, out of the pasture. As I walked toward the house I heard a high-pitched sound sort of like an elk bugle. I turned and looked over my shoulder.

    “She misses you and doesn’t want you to leave” Tom laughed. I smiled. “You love her” he taunted me.

    I didn’t want to love her.

    When I came back Tom and Henry were ready to go meet the babies, Marie and Veronica. Tom instantly fell for Veronica. She was jet black and full of vinegar. Brave and daring she came up to us to investigate. Henry destined to deal with difficult women all of his life wanted to win over the more guarded and cautious Marie. They were adorable and so were their mothers, Sprite and Shannon.

(Henry woos Marie- how else? ignoring her - typical girl)

(Henry afraid to move a muscle or even smile in fear of scaring little Marie away)

    I knew what I was thinking but I thought I should ask Tom his thoughts.

    “What do I think? Who should we get, Hannah, Veronica, Marie or Gnatalie?”

    “Um, Do you want me to tell you what I really think? I think we should get two”.

    “Did you read my mind?” I snickered. Relieved I didn’t say it. Tom laughed.

    “We’re rarely not on the same page.” He noted.

    “We can’t get two though, so which one is it?”

    “Gnatalie, she’s already what we want. Marie or Veronica are great, but if they didn’t turn out like her, we’d be really bummed. She’s just what we want”.

    “I do love her, but She’s not just what I want, I wanted a younger black one” I said having a hard time letting go of my dream.

    “I really like the black too they’re beautiful, but it’s the Stewart-syndrome all over again” Tom stated authoritatively.

    “What do you mean, Dad? Stewart, Mom’s old cat?” Henry asked.

    “Yes, your mom went to get a cat,”

    “At Actors and Other’s For Animals” I interjected.

    “She wanted a dark, older female with long hair,” Tom continued.

    “And they had one, only she was mean and rotten, spitting and hissing and still I almost got her, because she’s what I thought I wanted. But my friend, Dixon was with me and she said I was nuts, because there in the next cage trying to get my attention in complete Disney fashion, purring at me reaching through the cage was Stewart. He was a kitten with short white hair. A boy. Everything I didn’t want, but exactly what I needed”.

    “Sooooo we’re getting Gnatalie?” Henry said brimming over with excitement.

    “Yep” Tom and I said in unison.

    From there we drove to the fair. We searched the barns for Irish Dexters, but alas, there were none this year. We did see the tail end of a calf being born and saw him stand for the first time as his mother licked him. We scanned the poultry barn for any of our breeds, but there weren’t any except a bronze turkey. There were one or two Oberhasli goats, no Leicester long wools in the sheep barn. We looked for our pick, the American Guinea Hog in the swine area, but none of those either.

    Henry had a “Moowich”, a homemade chocolate chip cookie with ice cream in the middle at the Dairy barn to support the League of Dairy Women. We walked around saw some incredible tap dancing brothers, but missed the performing pigs.

    On our way out, we decided to swing by the Dairy barn again and see the new little bull-calf one more time. To our surprise, the cow in the next paddock was in full heaving labor. So we stayed and watched the miracle of birth.

(just after)

(the new baby gets tended to by the mama)

(still bloody)

(Henry and I had a front row seat )

    Walking back to the car at almost midnight, Henry said, “Do you want to watch a movie when we get home?”

    “Henry!” Tom almost shouted. “We need so me sleep, tomorrow’s a big day” Tom said unwittingly.

    “I know, and the day after that?”  Henry taunted.

    “Well, that’s the day Anna leaves and Gnatalie arrives”.

    “And the day after that?”

    “We’ve got an appointment to see the kitchen we might use to process Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey”

    “My point exactly. So do you want to watch a movie?”

August 15th Fighting Irish

(Grandpa Horn hard at work)

Dear Denise and Lisa

    A few days ago when Jacques, Pascal and I played on rue Buci, a Left Bank walking street which is always crowded with tourists I experienced something I hadn't in a long time.

    We'd played in front of a shop closed for the month of August and after a couple of sets, Jacques and Pascal went across the street to have coffee or a glass of wine or who knows what. And you'll not be surprised  I leaned against the shop and spent some time with my current novel.

(Grandpa Horn on the far right- on Rue Buci)

    Usually I don't leave paper money in the sax or banjo case when we take a break as it can easily blow out.  As it happens, this time there was a 10Euro note and a 5Euro note in with the numerous coins.

    Something caught my attention and I looked up just as two drunks passed carrying their bottles of booze.  One leaned down and grabbed the 10Euro note.  Before I realized it, I was already moving after him. Without thinking I'd decided I was not going to allow him to get away with it and spread a story around that the musicians won't do anything if you grab something out of their case, etc.

(band money)

    In fairly short order I caught the guy at the corner, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.  A couple of helpful Frenchman who had seen the action had run along with me and were screaming at the guy to drop the money.

 

    The drunk with the 10Euro note was in a rage shouting something incomprehensible and leaning into my face.  I took one step back and drove a right cross into his nose.  He went down.  I stayed back as he was still holding a bottle in one hand and the 10Euro in the other.  He finally managed to get up and lunged toward me.  I stepped to the side, grabbed the front of his shirt and used his momentum to swing him into the side of a building. 

 

    This time his bottle broke as he landed, but he still held the neck of it with a fairly large jagged portion, so I stayed away from him.  Slowly, he turned and dropped the 10Euro note.  I picked it up and returned to our instruments as people on the street applauded.  Just as I was leaving, the drunk lifted his hand up, wanting to shake mine.  I turned and ignored him.

    Thankfully there were no police around. Even though I'd been the victim I didn't want to have my name become part of any official report. Every now and then we run into #%@!*&%! (pardon my French) and always try to avoid them. I just couldn't let this theft happen without doing something.

    I may be older, but, grumpy Grandpa Horn is still your dear old dad.

(Grandpa Horn back at work)

August 7th Getting To Know You

(Edward looks out on the yard)

  I didn’t know what to expect having a horse after all these years and with all these other animals. He’s pretty and sweet, but I didn’t know if he would be nervous, and spook or kick or what. I didn’t know how much of a personality he would really have next to my moody debutante of a donkey.

    I started by isolating him. I wanted him to get used to the place but allow him to hold court, meeting and greeting everybody. So I kept him in the paddock behind the barn. He could see over the fence and would whinny every so often at the passersby. The sheep and goats and geese could see him and could decide whether to go up to him or not.

    Miracle was not at all eager to make friends with the big fella. Suddenly she looked small and seemed to feel scruffy next to the towering, shiny Thoroughbred. She’d amble over, head held high but at the last moment stop and peer at him from behind a tree. Cautiously she’d sidle up near the fence where he was standing, bray, and kick her heels and race off, emphasizing his confinement as she demonstrated her freedom.

    The sheep came over one by one sniffing him and stomping their feet as they are prone to do. Perhaps it was no accident, the girls, Mildred and Sheryl usually the most shy, were the first to give him a good sniff followed eventually by the boys. The goats were non-plussed, either he had a treat for them in which case he was very interesting or he did not. He did not. The geese with their sudden and unexplainable bursts of honking and flapping were a curiosity to him at first, but he quickly saw they were harmless and didn’t even twirl an ear when they’d carry on. Apparently he’d grown up with a duck.

    His feet were cracked and dished out in front of him like he was wearing elf shoes. They looked painful and made me wince every time I looked at them.  I started calling farriers in the area and was happy to find one guy readily available. 

(Sir Edward's foot -dished and cracked)

    The morning the farrier came Miracle got more than a little antsy. Her eyes were full of fear. She was appalled I was suggesting she not only wear a halter, but couldn’t believe she was to stand still to be manhandled by some stranger in chaps. She did not feel this fitting a donkey of her caliber and she did not cooperate. In fact, she came just this side of throwing a donkey tantrum. She got a lesson in manners from the farrier, whom she quickly respected and consequently adored.

(Miracle plays hard to get)

(Miracle freaks out!)

(Dave Mehl - the farrier and our girl)

(Miracle makes friends with Dave)

     Over the last couple of years, the two of us have played the “Farrier Game” many times, a derivative of “Veterinarian Game" . It’s a simple game of trust. I put my hand down her leg and practice picking up her tootsies then we snuggle. Everyone’s happy. She loves hugs almost as much as I dislike hugging, but there is something irresistible about her donkieness. I watched proudly holding her lead rope, cooing to her, as Dave commended me on her behavior. She stood calmly and let him give her a pedicure. Afterward I rewarded her with a handful of packer pellets for a job well done.  She’d faced her fear, and was truly a noble steed.

(Miracle gets a pedicure)

    Next, it was Sir Edward’s turn. He’d obviously had his feet done many times, albeit a long time ago from the look of his feet.  Not as comfortable with him and a little leery he might be painful in his feet, I stood holding his lead hoping all was going to go smoothly. The farrier said, “I’m going to take them down as far as I dare”. I nodded in agreement; getting him sound was the first order of business. “He might be a little sore for the next few days, so I’d continue to keep him confined”. Again, I nodded and looked up.

(Edward gets the treatment from Dave)

I could see one eye and one ear, she was peeking from behind the barn watching him. Later in the afternoon she cozied up to the fence and did what equine do when they accept each other. They traded breath. Nose to nose, they stood inhaling each other. 

    It turns out Edward’s a bit of a kook. He likes to cram himself between the barn and the chicken coup and watch Poultry-TV. He stands for hours watching the chicks and turkeys flap around, pecking and strutting. He’s social too, stuffing himself through the tiny door Miracle can barely use, just to get inside with the rest of the troop. He’s also a bit of trouble. He stole hay from the goats and shared it with Miracle. He tears my pickets off my flower garden fence, picks trash out of garbage cans, rips bags apart and he even trounced my vegetable garden fence letting all the animals out into the pasture.The thing is, girls like bad boys. In fact, that night she decided not to go in the barn and spent the summer night in the little valley under the apple trees. With him.

(Mr. Ed - watches the chickens & turkeys)

(the fascinating fowl)

(Bucket looks back)

(Bucket is apparently a boy)

(it seems we did get at least one turkey hen)

(Edward makes himself at home)

(Edward gets comfortable)

(Henry hugs Edward)

(Edward and his new buddies)

(Quinn has fallen in love)

(Eddie Haskel is that you?)

(Edward is a bit destructive - perhaps he needs a toy)

(Edward gets paid a housecall by the same doctor who examined Apache- Dr. Amber Itle from Kulshan Veterinary Hospital in Lynden -she did find a heart murmer on the left side)

(Edward it seems doesn't need his teeth floated just yet - and he does have his racing tatoo)

 (Edward gets his privates looked at and cleaned with - Excalibur - sheath cleaner)

(Miracle's feet are lifting off the ground to kick Abe, who has mistakenly gotten too close to Sir Edward during his exam)

(Miracle is concerned and curious)

(Miracle tends to a sedated Edward)

(Miracle leans in to comfort Edward)

Now she goes wherever he goes and he goes where ever she goes. And when the vet came out and had to work on Edward, Miracle was there breathing in his nose calming him down. They look like the farm girl and the city boy, an equine Romeo and Juliet.

(Sir Edward (20) and Miracle (5) - a May/December romance? Or just friends?)

August 5th Walk Don't Run

(a visual I'm glad I didn't see)

Imagine being at the lion exhibit at the zoo and suddenly the glass breaks. Are you scared?  Or is it just another day at the office facing an apex predator? Now you and two children have to make it three-quarters of a mile to your car. Are you in a panic? When you begin to move and you hear the roar of the lion from the bushes a few yards away  does your heart skip a beat? You know he or she is stalking you as you walk because you can hear the twigs break and you can smell the musky odor of the cat. Do you freeze or do you run? Frankly, we’re exhausted from it. We can’t stop thinking or talking about the moment we heard the lion roar nor can we stop reliving the events leading up to it when like a herd of distracted deer we were innocently moving along without any sense of fear, unaware of what lurked just feet away in the bushes.

Strangely, when Quinn and I told people we were close enough to actually smell a cougar and were tracked like some sort of kitty treat, most people responded with ennui. “Really? Huh, that must have been scary” was the general reaction. Scary? I’d say life-altering type of fear would better cover it. For Quinn and me it was one of the most terrifying moments of our lives.

"I think people can't imagine how alone we felt when they live in neighborhoods with stores and things" Quinn suggested. "They just don't get it. They think you have neighbors. They can't visualize not seeing another person for at least a mile".

Since misery loves company, Quinn decided to stay yet another night.  She had soccer practice and so we went to retrieve her after gymnastics in the itsy-bitsy town of Alger. This meant we were going to wind around Lake Whatcom on our way home. The lake was beautiful with the sun dancing on the water, boats bobbing at their docks all framed by the wooded hills. It was soothing seeing the quaint houses dotting the banks and I wondered if maybe Awesomez would want to buy one eventually. Mental note, send Lindsey the real estate section since she seems to currently be in charge of the all family decisions.

Lost in thought, I was thinking about needing a walk wondering if maybe I should walk around while I’m at gymnastics next time. It is absolutely imperative I get my exercise so I can keep up with Awesomez’ weight loss. She's kicking my butt as she's already lost seven pounds. I briefly considered walking with Deli and an air horn. In fact I was just considering whether or not this was completely fool hardy when we passed something on the side of the road that caught my attention. I hit the brakes, and threw the van into reverse.

“Mom! What’s happening?”

“Neese! Are you crazy?” Paying them little heed I continued to back up and pull to the side of the road.

“No one get hysterical, I just have to see if I saw what I think I saw” I informed them. “ I was right. Look” I instructed.

(treadmill on the side of the road)

(Free! treadmill?)

“What the...? It’s a treadmill.”

Have you ever in your life seen a treadmill on the side of the road?” I asked.

“How much is it?” Henry asked.

“The sign says ‘Free’ do you think it works?” I wondered.

“Neese, a free treadmill just when you said you needed one? Couldn’t you ask for say a pony for me?” Quinn asked incredulously.

“Do you think we can fit it in?” I wondered aloud.

“Yes, we’re getting it” Quinn stated firmly.

“It’s heavy,” I said.

“We can do it,” Quinn said.

“Oh WE can, can WE,” I said skeptically sizing it up. I stood next to the behemoth object and measured it with my body. It was taller than me and it seemed to weigh a ton. We took out all my Costco purchases and folded down the seats. I lay down. “It’s going to be a tight fit, if we can do it”.

“Oh we’re doing it,” Quinn pushed. I wanted it so I followed her lead and began inching the thing into the car. With the assistance of Quinn and Henry I managed to tip the thing up in the back.

“Henry do that for your mom, you’re strong,” Quinn insisted.

“My mom is way stronger than me,” Henry said as I strained to lift the cumbersome object using my legs.

“You’re like Wonder Woman!” Quinn marveled. “How did you get so strong?”

“Grandpa Horn, I guess I’m a chip off the old block,” I said grimacing.

As it began to get dark, we got the machine in and were able to close the door. “If it doesn’t work I’m going to hurt someone” Quinn said “How weird, you were just looking on Craigslist to see if you could afford one and we drive this way for the first time since Griffin died, and we just happen to pass a treadmill on the side of the road. If this was a movie I wouldn’t believe it”.

(my little helpers, Henry and Quinn with our prize)

(Henry and Quinn)

(goofy Henry & Quinn)

“I know!  Remember when I prayed for the turtle? And Leo came walking up Califa the next day? Someone's, looking over us, probably Grandma” Henry added.

“I think so too,” I said. This was just like my mother, so "Miracle On 34th Street". She was always so Hollywood. Clearly she would not have liked me endangering her grandchildren, I can just hear her "Go ahead and take risks with our own life for a couple of pounds, but you're not taking my grandchildren" I could hear her plain as day. A moment later I heard something move in the bushes. Quinn, Henry and I stood statue still. We looked at each other all thinking the same thing and hopped in the car. Not waiting to find out what it was, I sped off with my new treadmill in the back.

--

August 3rd Scent Of A Woman

(New shoes don't stay new for long)

Sitting back in a Weight Watchers meeting I was happy to be facing the music. Again. I’d been snacking to the point of my clothes being too tight and frankly I can’t afford new clothes so I’m out of options.

There was a brand new leader on Tuesday, eager and peppy. At first, I thought she might be a little too enthusiastic, but as I listened to her talk I decided I was really ready to commit. She was all about challenges; she had some vegetable challenge where you were supposed to have more than half your plate full of vegetables, and apparently the week before she had a “try-a-new-vegetable-challenge” and now she was issuing an exercise challenge. I was up for it, but as I sat quietly lost in thought I drifted back to why I’d stopped walking a year ago, the cougar episode. I was afraid of the big cats, but now I had true motivation, competition. Awesomez had joined Weight Watcher’s too and now we had a contest. Something akin to the biggest loser, and there is nothing like a contest to get me going.

Determined, I took the 50.00 bill Awesomez had hidden in my wallet and bought a decent pair of walking shoes. I laced up the next morning with my new walking coach, Henry who donned his bicycle helmet and accompanied me. We went early in the cool of the morning.  I felt smug as I toasted my two point multi-grain English muffin smearing two points of creamy peanut butter on top while I sipped my coffee fresh from the glow of my walk.

The next day, my “coach” was too tired and the bum slept in, so Vivian and I went it alone. Walking along, I noticed some poop in the middle of the road. Curious I studied it. It was big enough and it was filled with hair, I suspected it was cougar scat but knew it was far fetched we hadn’t seen cougar in a long time and what were the odds it would poop in the middle of the road. The scat was still fresh with urine puddled, I didn’t want my imagination to carry me away, but nonetheless it’s not what you want to see as you try and walk off a couple of chocolate meringues from Trader Joes™. I would research the specimen later and identify the culprit. Vivian had a completely different attitude; she walked up squatted and confidently peed right over it. Her confidence gave me confidence and I walked on accompanied by my canine bodyguard.

(Clearly cougar scat - this picture taken some time later when I came back in my car)

(a wider view)

On my third walk, Amy and my “coach” both came with me, Vivian and Irish. We chatted and laughed and probably didn’t walk as fast or as far as we should have, but I got my heart rate up.

Walk number four was Phoebe, Quinn and Henry on his bicycle with my constant walking companions Vivian, and Irish. The canine bullet, Rat-Bat (Bruno) somehow escaped the house, squeezed under the fence and found us half a mile away.

“Look that’s the cougar scat my mom saw the other day”.

“Why would a cougar go in the middle of the road?” Phoebe asked.

“Well, there were four things that identify cougar scat. First it should be as big as a large dog. Check. Two, it should have hair from it’s last kill. Check. Three it should be in segments. Check and double check. And four, the documents say, it’s important to note where the scat is. Cougars like to mark their territory and so they go out in the open usually in the middle of a trail” I explained.

“That’s in the middle of a trail all right,” Phoebe agreed.

Together, we walked faster and farther, but didn’t quite walk as long as I would have liked because I needed to get to work.

(the forest is thick with fern)

This morning, I was down to only Quinn and Henry, who was sick of how hot his helmet made his head and pushing his bicycle up some of the steeper hills decided he would walk. I left Vivian the guard dog home due to limping. We took Irish and started out. The morning was crisp and bright. Sun streamed dreamily through the trees as we marched up the hill determined this time to finally get to the bridge. About three-quarters of a mile into the walk I smelled an overwhelming odor, as pungent as a skunk but not a skunk at all. I looked around wondering what the smell was.

“Do you smell that?” I asked.

“No. I don’t smell anything” Quinn answered keeping stride.

“I smell a really strong smell. It reminds me of ‘Harry and the Henderson’s. You know, they say Sasquatch smells really strong and that’s how you know it’s there”.

“I remember that movie,” Quinn said. “We saw it with Tom and Wayne I think”.

“You know, there are more Sasquatch sightings on the 9 than just about anywhere. The guys from the city who were out here last week said they weren’t going to rule out Sasquatch in a forest this size. And besides, it’s the non-believer who gets it in the end” I said through my huffing and puffing. “Or the annoying, squirrely kid on the bike”.

“Good thing I don’t have my bike, “ Henry smiled.

“Neese you kind of sound like a warthog when you’re walking and talking” Quinn so kindly informed me. Just then, we heard a huge rustle in the bushes and we could see the foliage moving.

“That’s big enough to be an elk,” I said thinking back to that fateful day last summer when I’d said just about the same thing. We walked on.

“Didn’t Kristi, the girl who used to live here, see a Sasquatch?” Quinn asked.

“Well, she saw something. She was lost one night in the late fall and something about the size of a black bear went in front of her car. She stopped and it looked at her, but she couldn’t identify it. It really freaked her out”.

“She said it kind of had the face of a monkey” Henry interjected.

“She didn’t want anyone to think she was a kook, so she never really told anyone else, but it was near the Strand Road on the 9” I snorted. We heard another break of a branch in the bushes. It wasn’t as loud as before but seemed just behind us. We turned to look but didn’t see anything.

“I smell the smell you were talking about” Quinn said sniffing the air.

“Me too. Ugh it’s horrible. Maybe it is a Sasquatch” Henry laughed.

“Yeah, maybe it’s tracking us right now. Maybe we’re being followed by Harry, he left the Henderson’s. Or we think we’re being followed by a Sasquatch and a cougar will jump out of the bushes” she laughed too.

“Of course, we’re going to see a Sasquatch, I didn’t bring my camera” I added as I quickened our pace.

The conversation wound around to aliens, the Egyptians, alternate Universes, Loch Ness and unexplored regions of our oceans. We discussed cave drawings and giant squid, the cruelty of man and science and our inability as a species to allow others to co-exist. Quinn wished we’d see Sasquatch and could give him refuge on the farm. “He could eat blueberries and we’d be friends with him, but we wouldn’t tell anyone” she said wistfully.

“Yeah right, look at the Giant Squid it was dead after just one day, you’d think they’d learn” Henry said as we reached the bridge. “They can’t leave well enough alone”. We looked around a bit taking stock of what had been done. The place was deserted which seemed strange for a work day, but no wonder they’d scheduled almost a year if they’re not going to be working on the renovations consistently.

“This is just about two miles, it’s getting hot so let’s get going,” I said as Henry turned the happy-to-be-on-walk Irish around. I thought of Vivian probably moping at home sitting on my bed thinking she’d been replaced.

We walked a long easily as Quinn pondered if Kristi had actually seen Sasquatch. “Then according to Kristi, a Sasquatch doesn’t have to be that big. Now maybe she saw a baby, who knows. People probably exaggerate,“ Quinn surmised.

“Like when they almost catch a fish,” Henry concurred.  And so Quinn and Henry concluded a colony of Sasquatch possibly the size of Henry could easily remain undetected in the forests of the Pacific Northwest. I had no argument to the contrary.

We walked at a fairly quick pace going up and down the hills and around the turns. We saw a smashed snake on the road and a few beer cans in the underbrush and I was wondering if the pack of Spirit’s on the side of the road were purchased at the Everybody’s’ Store, when I heard the low guttural roar of a lion. It wasn’t a loud roar like at the beginning of an MGM film, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. There’s nothing like a lion’s roar to make you realize you’re not necessarily at the top of the food chain. I looked over my shoulder searching the brush realizing the smell had been Karen, the cougar, not Harry. Quinn saw me look and went white.

“I was hoping that was your stomach,” she said with a look of terror in her eyes.

“You heard it”.

“Yes I heard it”.

            “Heard what?” Henry asked as he and Irish bounced along unaware a cougar was stalking us.

“We just heard a lion growl, didn’t you?” Quinn asked.

“No, I didn’t all I could hear was Irish panting” he said.

“Well, it wasn’t a loud I’m-going-to-pounce-on you-growl it was a-I’m-right-here-and-I’d-like-you-to-leave-right-now-growl” Quinn informed him sternly.

“No one panic. No yelling, no running. A cougar can cover up to 30 feet in one bound so there’s not a chance of out running them. They’re ambush predators so I’m going to just keep looking back and making sure we’re ok. Just keep walking at the same pace. They don’t want a fight. I just hope we don’t look like walking Land jaegers,” I said trying to make light of the situation.

“Maybe it was a bear,” Henry suggested.

“Well, I’d rather face a bear because at least I wouldn’t be a primary food source. They’re not carnivores. We can check the sound when we get home, but I don’t think so,” I said fairly certain.

“Notice it’s right near the scat we saw earlier” Henry pointed out. That meant we had three-quarters of a mile yet to go and I’d forgotten the air horn. How could I be so careless? Why wasn’t Irish reaching? I wondered if he had doggie ADHD. I wished I’d brought Deli. Then thanked my lucky stars I hadn’t brought Vivian, she wouldn’t have been so calm and probably would have gotten herself or us killed.

“Mama, at least you can say you got your heart rate up,” Henry said with a giggle.

“Henry! You don’t seem to be taking this seriously!” Quinn said exasperated.

(home again, home again)

When we got home we immediately started researching cougar. Playing every cougar audio clip we could find until we found a match. “It says here it might be a female in heat and that’s why she smells so strong right now,” Quinn read to us.

(Play cougar sound)

“I didn’t even know cougar smelled, but I’ll never forget it,” Henry said.

“Me either, I can’t believe we were close enough to smell her. I mean how close do you think that is? How far do you suppose we were? You didn’t smell them the other two times you saw them did you?”

“No I didn’t”

“Do you think maybe a couple of yards? I read about a guy who smelled a bear and he was only six feet away. Do you think we were that close?” Quinn asked wanting answers.

“I just don’t know,” I said, uneasy thinking about how close we’d been to such a frightening but magnificent animal.

I called Tom and relayed the events of the morning playing him the sounds we’d found on the Internet. When I hung up, Quinn asked, “What did Tom say when you told him?”

“Get a treadmill".