Oct. 4th, ‘09-It’s 6:15 PM and I have Jake the goat breathing heavy in my ear. He’s wanting re-assurance that I relish his company even though he’s decided my perennial flower bed is a smorgasboard. He tugs @ the frozen zinnias, up-roots phlox and prances about the yard taunting Billie Goat and me. He smiles as I see him gingerly walking across the lawn wrestling playfully with hollow hollyhock stalks. I march out forcefully and he acts so innocent as he stares into my eyes and searches for his ranking. I can’t help but scratch him under the chin and entice him to the gate with grain and pleading. He succumbs again to the grain treat and I notice he even left teeth marks in the giant punkin that’s setting in the front of the garden. I try to move the pets to several different pens that are in better repair.  Jasper the Lincoln breed sheep, cooperates and marches down the road with a twine string tied to his collar. He’s about 250#’s and loves to go for walks with me. Clancy goat is bleeting and wants to be with Jasper. Jake is shoved in the fence also by the barn. I’m  certain this fence is able to keep them in.  Tom and Hawken slowly drive by on the ancient Gator. Tom’s eyebrows are raised above his head and he politely asks if I need help. I blow a kiss, wave and thank him for the offer. I need Patzie to fix the frickin’ fence or a small army to keep watch over Houdini goat. I laugh out loud and life lesson again is blaring!!!  Take care of my own things or hire it done!  The sky is overcast and it’s 51 degrees. I feel tugging @ the backside of my jeans as I head to chore on Lower Farm.  I exhale Jake’s name and ignore the tugging. He tires of the game and then appears lost and so sad. I shake my head as I watch Jake with gazelle like ease  clear the fence and jump back in with Jasper and Clancy.  Three weeks til Patzie can come and Jake’s  jumping skills are sharpened innumerable times. The traffic to our office and delivery trucks is unusually slow  cause of ckickens barrelling across the road and now Jake saunters his way to greet people.  I finish chores and cherish that Tom’s home from the vet route and I can take  a solo journey towards Thunder Point. I mentioned solo and that lasts a few minutes.  I’m flanked by the cat crew and they are determined to all be my best pals.  I turn into soccer Mom and end up kicking them out of my way. I stumble and return them to the barn and re-feed them as a distractant. I quickly swing open the metal gates, trying not to get shocked on high hot wire and step it up. I un-twist the smooth wire from the cattle panel and it flops open wide enough for me to shrink through on an inhalation. I ascend to our upper hayfields and walk with usual determination. My eyes are fixed on Thunder Point.  Half way across the field I stop to notice a doe that was standing @ the edge of the woods. I sang a song and we stared @ eachother. She came closer and after 5 minutes of observing, I shut my eyes for 30 seconds. I had to know if it was so..she waved her warning tail. I heard her snort a warning.  She  stopped and returned to watch me.  When I shut my eyes, the connection was lost and she grew fearful.  I quickly sang a ding dong song.  Another test and she liked it and calmly grazed on alfalfa and appeared oblivious to me.  I learned so much in that interaction with the doe. I trembled with awareness and felt the heartbeat of the land swell up and sink into my soul. I lifted my fingertips up-ward and went through my daily gratitude list. I looked @ the space between the Big Bend Trees  and slipped into the gap. I stooped to pick a feather up that had apppeared @ my feet. I fingered the long gray feather and thanked the angels that were there with me on Thunder Point. I thought of Hawken telling me today, “Mama is a Red Eagle.”  Pops rotates between being a snapping turtle and a crow. He earned the snapping turtle name when he and Hawken crawl like turtles to get down our hallway. Uncle Kenny is a “Big Eagle.”  Uncle Tim-he’s “Santa Claus”. Aunt Mary Kay is a”Kitty Cat”.  Greg is a goat cause he has a goatee, just like Billie.  I found our Hawken given names in a delightful book from the LaCrosse Public Library. “All Our Relatives” by Paul Goble.  There on the opening page is Big  Eagle and Red Eagle as actual Native American names.  My thoughts on Thunder Point were absent.  I was just immersed in the hallowedness of the un-folding of each breath taking moment. Melting into the pot of life and stirring slowly to savor the sweet aroma.  Gazing contentedly over the scenery and I’m still being watched. Now all 3 does are there and grazing behind me. A rabbit hops on the outskirts of the hay field and bounces out of my vision. A fox squirrel is scampering on a mission down a oak tree and over to it’s leafy nest constructed with  thought to survive the up-coming winter winds.   More deer as I make my way back to belloring cattle and there’s Jake and now he has brought Clancy to also greet me. I hang tightly to my feather and open the house door. There in the kitchen is Hawken clamboring in his toy cupboard.  He whips out the wooden flute from Aunt Mary Kay and Uncle  Kenny Salwey and just blasts it for me so proud. I am pleased and he hands it like usual to me. “Mama do the flute?” I flutter the flute and act like I have music in me puffing with exaggerated mommy moves. He loves it and says, “Mama do the Indians??” That’s my cue to tell stories about teepees, sleeping outside under the stars and  the act of drumming.  Hawken reaches further in the cupboard and bangs on the authentic drum also from Mary Kay and Kenny.  I remind him all people are good and we love everyone and recognize no boundaries of color, religion or politics. It’s a message for myself to apply non-judgement and be @ peace rather than feeding an ego that wants to be right. Hawken hears Pops beckoning him to choose a bath or shower and be a turtle or a goat. What a gift these boys are. I’ve chosen the best teachers for my life lessons .

The eyes are a mirror to our soul,

Sue Roskos