Oct. 24, ‘09-Hawken and I took a car ride to the Recycling Center this AM. On our ride there we converse about the Polish chicken with feathers on it’s head. He says, “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side!” We giggle with reckless abandon as though we said it for the first time. “Mama, Jake is out!” “No worries-I’ll drive slow and he jumps back in the fence.” Jake is a white Kinder goat that has horns and is bigger than our pygmy Billie goat. Jake is affectionately named after Jake Schlesser from Independence. He and his wife Judy are friends and clients from our vet route. Jake the goat lives with Clancy, a Nubian goat. Clancy is docile and has no horns. He’s brown and white and  is tall. Clancy is named after Clarence Pronschinske from Glencoe. Clarence and his wife Bev are also clients and friends from the vet route and we are neighbors. Clancy the sweet goat, was given to me from Granny Annie Thewis after she found 2 goats running through their alfalfa fields. So it’s known you have received a compliment from me when an animal on our farm is named after you. We drive past Apple Alley and I sigh and mumble ,”Sammy Cat-where are you??” She’s my favorite kitty cat that I’ve had for 6 years. On one of Jake and Judy’s farms there was a hired hand, Butch. Tom and I would go to a call on that farm and I’d admire a Siamese looking long haired gray cat that slept in the milkhouse. The milkhouse is where the cow’s milk flows into a storage tank and is cooled until the milk truck from the processing plant arrives to drain the bulk tank. Siamese kitty would be curled up on the water heater to stay warm in the winter months. Butch noticed I was fond of the kitty and one day asked Tom if he thought I’d like the cat. I gathered her up in my arms and she rode home in the vet van purring and her name was Sammy Cat. She was spayed within a week and I had her front claws removed. She settled into being a house kitty and lap cat. She had long gray hair that required her grooming. When I was pregnant with Hawken she still produced piles of burped up hair balls through out the house. One day I found my new Atlas with a huge pile from her and I was queasy enough to know I’d reached my limit. She became an outdoor kitty and could catch mice and sparrows in spite of no front claws. Tom fired up the original Trap Shack stove in winter for her. On days when there were no muskrats to skin, he still fired up to keep Sammy comfortable. Then 2 years ago Billie goat had to be moved in-doors to our lower farm’s milkhouse during winter months.  Sammy and Billie were roommates over the harsh winter months associated with WI.  Billie softens his goatality when within the confines of the milhouse. He allows Tom to pet and admire him. Billie and Sammy snuggle in their straw bed for slumber as the heater helps warm their room.  But now Billie is back to the milkhouse for his right hip is arthritic and he bleets incessantly and tugs @ his chain when he needs to be moved for warmth.  It’s a hollow feeling this day for Sammy’s been gone 3 days.  Gladly I tell her and all the animals-” Thanks for being my pets-you’re the greatest ___ I could ever have!”  Hawken and I continue the mile ride to the Recycling Center. @ the end of our driveway Hawken says, “Look Mama, 2 deer!!” I’m making a right turn up the hill and can’t glance backwards.  On the return trip from the  Glencoe Town Recycling Center, I marveled @ the sight of a  8 point buck and a doe standing in our alfalfa field.  Later,  Hawken  fed the sheep with his full size 3 tine pitchfork. He sqeezed the kittys and threw their vittles on the barn floor. “Look Mama, see those sheep? Those sheep are so healthy, so happy. Look @ the kitty, he’s kinda orange isn’t he? Watch me, I’m way up high on a mountain! See that?? I’m up high on these bales of hay.” Then he pushes the door open to milkhouse, “Hey Billie goatie, want some hay, huhhh?!”  We feed fatteners and push up hay for the weaner calves. Hawken climbs up on the ’lil Ford’ and we pretend drive to Grandma and Grandpa’s house by the town of Waumandee.  I lift him into turbo stroller and we go bumpity bump with the red, big wheeled stroller down to the backwaters. I remind him to keep his hands inside the stroller while I delicately open the electric drive through gates.  “I’d like a cob of corn please.” I offer a choice of 2 cobs and he selects the longest cob. Then I husk it out and pick off the brown silk. Hawken also has a long stick that he calls his tree. So after evening chores we take our treasured tree,  check how dry the corn cob is and Skinny Kitty runs stupidly under the big tires all the way to Thunder Lane.  I ask Hawken,  “How many deer will we see tonite?”  “4 deer!!”  I sing the song and he does his part by adding the sing song  “Hhmm  Hhhmm” that’s used when we’re meditating to relax on the curvy corners that are a Buffalo County characteristic.  “Mama ran over Skinny Kitty”,  I am reminded as I dodge the male cat’s body.  We’re half way down the path, dried cornfields surround us. We point and exclaim delight as 6 deer venture towards us. I sing and “Peace and Love” slowly walk curiously towards us.  Spirit waves her warning as usual and tries to get the others to follow her to the woods.  Hawken asked to go closer, so we strollered and sang.  Spirit led the herd up  to Thunder Point to graze the top hay fields.  Hawken got out of stroller and asked hopefully, “Wanna duck your head?” So under the barbwire fence we crawl. Hawken takes his tree stick and Skinny Kitty rubs against his legs. Hawken  twists a tree branch and I squat down and he’s up on top of the cliff.  “Look! I’m up high! Careful, good balance.”  He hops down and trips on Skinny Kitty. The cat has decided to climb up my blue cover-alls since Hawken is more interested in talking to me.  “See that big hole? It’s a birdhouse.” I tell him, “Uncle Rollie and Cousin Mike were kind to put the duck house up in the tree so ducks hatch their eggs in there.” “See the river Mama, big boats go dowwwnn it. See doze backwaters, Uncle Kenny and Mama go there. Look  @ dat squirrrrel. It’s gotta nut in it’s mouth. See da moon?? Kinda looks like a banana. Where’d the deers go Mama-Let’s go find them. They’re hiding..way down they went See dat steep hill-I see a blue flower-here’s a corncob-it’s empty. Where’s Pops go’ed? Is he grinding feed hhuhhh??”  So we stroller back and the hawk flies over the hay field.  I’m the richest woman in the world. Blessings abound all around. Blue gray clouds settle in for our viewing pleasure.  Then under my feet is Sammy cat all wobbly and meowing. I scoop her up and thank her for coming back. She’s filled out yet, dry and appears to have a middle ear infection. She tries to walk and loses her balance. Tom takes Hawken in for bath time. I sit and bask in  gratitude for life and the wonders of it all as I pet  my lap cat in the Shack.

Listen for the echoes,

Sue Roskos