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- #21
justusnak
Almost Self-Reliant
A new member to the family.......
It was late spring....thunderstorms were rageing our little farm. The winds were strong enough that mom had us kids go to the cellar. Now, I have to explain this home a little to ya. It is a big 2 story home, with a large dirt floor cellar. The home was used at one time for funerals. In the front room, mom always called it the " company only living room" There was an indentation(sp) in the wall...where they would place the casket for viewings. Beautifull hard wood floors....big almost cieling to floor windows on the front. Mom swore the place was haunted. ( I will touch on this more later) The cellar had several ( maybe 4) little rooms, with big wooden doors that had windows about 6 inches square, and the windows had bars in them. Like jail calls. Us kids often would play cops and robbers down there, and lock each other up. Luckily the doors were barely operational, so we never had to worry about being "locked in" All along one wall, towards the ceiling, there was a crawl space. This area was about 2 ft tall, and several feet deep. My brothers favorite hideing place. (shivers) :/ I am thinking this was a type of "cold storage" You could enter the basement from the kitchen, or from the outside through 2 big metal doors laying almost flat on the ground. Sorta like the ones in Wizard of Oz.
OK, so, the storm...mom had us all in the cellar with candles. The storm raged outside. Dad of course was sitting at the top of the stairs, in the kitchen. He would NEVER come to the cellar. His fear of "ghosts" kept him out. Lightening struck a large tree in the back yard..and everyone screamed. ( includeing dad)
He dissapeared from the stairs for a few minutes only to come back to report that the tree had fallen on the little barn in the back yard..and caved in the roof. This of course was near the horse pasture, and it spooked the pony and Mindy...they bolted and were " on thier way south" as dad put it. The storm finally passed, and we all went outside to see all of the damage. Jeff, being the most adventurous one, was the first in the little barn. Once inside, he discovered a momma raccoon dead on the floor. We knew she lived in there, and had a litter of kits, so he started looking for them. Once he found them, he yelled for mom to come...and the dug the 5 kits from damaged "nest" They were soaking wet...and cold, and looked to have just had thier eyes open. Mom brought them all inside..and started to heat milk ( fresh raw) for them...and lit the oven and placed them on the opened door in a box to warm them. We all took turns feeding them for a few days, but, unfortunately, only one survived. He grew into a big healthy coon...and we named him Shorty because he was the runt of the litter. Shorty loved to romp outside with our poodle, Snapper. They would chase each other..and sometimes Shorty would jump on Snappers back. Snapper would run like the devil was after him, trying to dislodge that onry coon. Us kids would sneak in and get hair nets from moms room, and take them to the creek to catch crawdads and small fish for shorty. We would put them in a bucket on the porch and just roll in laughter watching him catch, wash, and eat them. Shorty favorite time of the day was dinner time. OUR dinner time. Mom would be standing at the stove, trying to cook, with a coon hanging on her hip...reaching out with his little paw, trying to grab food from the stove or counter. Mom of course would tire of this and throw shorty outside. Now coons are extremly smart animals...he would climb the gutter next to us girls bedroom window...and scratch on the sill. Of course we would let him back inside..and he scampered down the stairs, back to moms hip. She threw him out again...and again, he climbed the gutter. This happened a few times before mom yelled up the stairs...WHO keeps letting shorty back inside. She warned us to NOT let him back in, untill after dinner was over.
We had to go to my grandparents one weekend, and of couse we could not bring the coon. Grandma and grandpa had a farm, raised chickens, and shorty was NOT welcome. So, before we left, mom placed a large bowl of dog food and water out for him and Snapper....and tried to convince my dad they would be fine. After all, it was only 2 days. The whole time...dad almost worried himself sick over that coon. He continuously said..." Poor shorty, I bet he thinks we abandoned him", or " I bet he is sitting there in the window, just looking out, waiting for us to come home" We had to cut our trip a little short, because dad was so worried. Once we got home, dad of course was the first one in the door. All I heard was... " That DANGED COON! Where is he!??" " Im gonna kill that danged coon" We all ran to the door to see why dad would be so upset with " poor Shorty" Well, once inside..we saw..Shorty had been exploreing the kitchen. With his nimble little hands, he was able to open every canister mom had on the counter. He must have loved flour, because he had it dumped on the counter and floor, and there were little foot prints all over the house.. He had the fridge door open..and food drug out. I guess he was not impressed with the bowl of dog food. LOL With dad screaming and hollering...shorty quickly made it out the front door, and into the tree. He knew better than to come down. We were unpacking the car, as my brother Jeff went to his room to check his turtle. Imagine his horror, to find his pet turtle...with no head. Shorty found it while we were gone..and well...coons eat turtles. :/ We had several great summers with Shorty....but sadly, he was chaseing Snapper one day, and they ran to cross the road, and was hit by a car. Snapper was missed...but shorty didnt survive. We burried him under his favorite apple tree...and I had never seen a grown man cry before this time. My dad cried like a baby. He really loved that "danged" coon. It was wierd...his little grave never grew weeds...and the first winter...snow melted when it hit his little grave. There would be snow all around it, but not on top. Dad had made a headstone...carved a little coon in it, and had his name. It took dad a while to get over the loss of that coon. He would sit on the porch the first few days after we burried him, and just stare at his little grave. Luckily...time heals all wounds.
It was late spring....thunderstorms were rageing our little farm. The winds were strong enough that mom had us kids go to the cellar. Now, I have to explain this home a little to ya. It is a big 2 story home, with a large dirt floor cellar. The home was used at one time for funerals. In the front room, mom always called it the " company only living room" There was an indentation(sp) in the wall...where they would place the casket for viewings. Beautifull hard wood floors....big almost cieling to floor windows on the front. Mom swore the place was haunted. ( I will touch on this more later) The cellar had several ( maybe 4) little rooms, with big wooden doors that had windows about 6 inches square, and the windows had bars in them. Like jail calls. Us kids often would play cops and robbers down there, and lock each other up. Luckily the doors were barely operational, so we never had to worry about being "locked in" All along one wall, towards the ceiling, there was a crawl space. This area was about 2 ft tall, and several feet deep. My brothers favorite hideing place. (shivers) :/ I am thinking this was a type of "cold storage" You could enter the basement from the kitchen, or from the outside through 2 big metal doors laying almost flat on the ground. Sorta like the ones in Wizard of Oz.
OK, so, the storm...mom had us all in the cellar with candles. The storm raged outside. Dad of course was sitting at the top of the stairs, in the kitchen. He would NEVER come to the cellar. His fear of "ghosts" kept him out. Lightening struck a large tree in the back yard..and everyone screamed. ( includeing dad)
He dissapeared from the stairs for a few minutes only to come back to report that the tree had fallen on the little barn in the back yard..and caved in the roof. This of course was near the horse pasture, and it spooked the pony and Mindy...they bolted and were " on thier way south" as dad put it. The storm finally passed, and we all went outside to see all of the damage. Jeff, being the most adventurous one, was the first in the little barn. Once inside, he discovered a momma raccoon dead on the floor. We knew she lived in there, and had a litter of kits, so he started looking for them. Once he found them, he yelled for mom to come...and the dug the 5 kits from damaged "nest" They were soaking wet...and cold, and looked to have just had thier eyes open. Mom brought them all inside..and started to heat milk ( fresh raw) for them...and lit the oven and placed them on the opened door in a box to warm them. We all took turns feeding them for a few days, but, unfortunately, only one survived. He grew into a big healthy coon...and we named him Shorty because he was the runt of the litter. Shorty loved to romp outside with our poodle, Snapper. They would chase each other..and sometimes Shorty would jump on Snappers back. Snapper would run like the devil was after him, trying to dislodge that onry coon. Us kids would sneak in and get hair nets from moms room, and take them to the creek to catch crawdads and small fish for shorty. We would put them in a bucket on the porch and just roll in laughter watching him catch, wash, and eat them. Shorty favorite time of the day was dinner time. OUR dinner time. Mom would be standing at the stove, trying to cook, with a coon hanging on her hip...reaching out with his little paw, trying to grab food from the stove or counter. Mom of course would tire of this and throw shorty outside. Now coons are extremly smart animals...he would climb the gutter next to us girls bedroom window...and scratch on the sill. Of course we would let him back inside..and he scampered down the stairs, back to moms hip. She threw him out again...and again, he climbed the gutter. This happened a few times before mom yelled up the stairs...WHO keeps letting shorty back inside. She warned us to NOT let him back in, untill after dinner was over. We had to go to my grandparents one weekend, and of couse we could not bring the coon. Grandma and grandpa had a farm, raised chickens, and shorty was NOT welcome. So, before we left, mom placed a large bowl of dog food and water out for him and Snapper....and tried to convince my dad they would be fine. After all, it was only 2 days. The whole time...dad almost worried himself sick over that coon. He continuously said..." Poor shorty, I bet he thinks we abandoned him", or " I bet he is sitting there in the window, just looking out, waiting for us to come home" We had to cut our trip a little short, because dad was so worried. Once we got home, dad of course was the first one in the door. All I heard was... " That DANGED COON! Where is he!??" " Im gonna kill that danged coon" We all ran to the door to see why dad would be so upset with " poor Shorty" Well, once inside..we saw..Shorty had been exploreing the kitchen. With his nimble little hands, he was able to open every canister mom had on the counter. He must have loved flour, because he had it dumped on the counter and floor, and there were little foot prints all over the house.. He had the fridge door open..and food drug out. I guess he was not impressed with the bowl of dog food. LOL With dad screaming and hollering...shorty quickly made it out the front door, and into the tree. He knew better than to come down. We were unpacking the car, as my brother Jeff went to his room to check his turtle. Imagine his horror, to find his pet turtle...with no head. Shorty found it while we were gone..and well...coons eat turtles. :/ We had several great summers with Shorty....but sadly, he was chaseing Snapper one day, and they ran to cross the road, and was hit by a car. Snapper was missed...but shorty didnt survive. We burried him under his favorite apple tree...and I had never seen a grown man cry before this time. My dad cried like a baby. He really loved that "danged" coon. It was wierd...his little grave never grew weeds...and the first winter...snow melted when it hit his little grave. There would be snow all around it, but not on top. Dad had made a headstone...carved a little coon in it, and had his name. It took dad a while to get over the loss of that coon. He would sit on the porch the first few days after we burried him, and just stare at his little grave. Luckily...time heals all wounds.
Anxiously waiting for the next installment! 
She sold the 4 wheeler after that. 
