100 thousand acre wood
Christopher Robin and Laura Ingles Wilder had nothing on me when it comes to stories in the big woods. It is a beautiful and very large woods.
The funniest story (looking back) was my venture into the deep woods (well, actually my exit from them as I can't remember how I got into them). Something invited me to try to get home - possibly hunger. I found a primitive road (a path that a vehicle could travel but obviously had not for some time) and followed it. As I came up over a rise I could see cattle in the road. This was quite disconcerting as I did not like cattle. The evidence gained from a quick review of my situation made it clear that I would have to travel through the woods to get home as there was no way around these cows on the path.
I have no idea how I did it but I instinctively turned to my left and went through the barbed wire. After a few minutes the forest opened and I could see the mill pond where my Dad worked as a pond monkey. I did not see him and was not looking for him as I worked my way through the under section of the mill - filled with moving belts and who knows what else. Fearless, I traveled on until I was through the mill and now on the other side of the mill pond.
Unknown to me, Dad had seen me and had made his way across the pond on the logs. As I started up the side of the pond wall he suddenly grabbed me, picked me up, and said suddenly and loudly "What are you doing here?" My being startled is the last part of that memory.
In the forest were very tall trees. One in particular, just south of my Uncle Art's house, stood above nearly all of the others. It had bark so thick that it was more than the width of my shoe and there was a kind of natural trail up the trunk to the lowest limbs which were surely many feet off the ground. I decided to climb the tree to see what the world looked like from up there. I climbed until I was exhausted and stopped to rest. Upon becoming still, I realized that the tree was swaying in the wind. What a beautiful feeling. Like nothing I have felt since.
As Dad was driving us somewhere one day he spotted a badger and stopped and got out of the pickup to shoot it. I assume now that this animal had been after our chickens or something because it would not have been like Dad to kill for fun. In fact, in his later years when getting meat for the table was no longer a requirement, he hunted with a camera and had the rifle and pistol for protection. I remember that he shot the badger and it started towards us. He shot again and again. He was a good enough shot that I am sure he hit it several times - even with the relatively inaccurate 45 on a target that small. His final shot was taken when the badger was just a few feet from him and its momentum carried it to his boot. He was shaking. I soon realized that the badger would have done great damage to Dad had it reached him alive.
I have always wanted to own a 1948 Dodge Powerwagon. They are for sale today on the internet. This particular vehicle was our way into the woods in the areas that were being logged. I got to tag along once and I learned to love compound low gear as one has time to get a good look at the woods without expending any effort.
I also took a wild ride on a small caterpillar. We were traveling into the woods west of the saw mill which was west of our house (remember that my front yard was logically north of my 1952 house). I think it would have been a D6 or bigger. Anyway, as we were moving forward we started across a small tree which was laying in our path. The farther we got onto the log the higher the front of the cat pointed. We were well past 45 degrees when the cat finally passed its center point at which time we slammed down to the ground.
The funniest story (looking back) was my venture into the deep woods (well, actually my exit from them as I can't remember how I got into them). Something invited me to try to get home - possibly hunger. I found a primitive road (a path that a vehicle could travel but obviously had not for some time) and followed it. As I came up over a rise I could see cattle in the road. This was quite disconcerting as I did not like cattle. The evidence gained from a quick review of my situation made it clear that I would have to travel through the woods to get home as there was no way around these cows on the path.
I have no idea how I did it but I instinctively turned to my left and went through the barbed wire. After a few minutes the forest opened and I could see the mill pond where my Dad worked as a pond monkey. I did not see him and was not looking for him as I worked my way through the under section of the mill - filled with moving belts and who knows what else. Fearless, I traveled on until I was through the mill and now on the other side of the mill pond.
Unknown to me, Dad had seen me and had made his way across the pond on the logs. As I started up the side of the pond wall he suddenly grabbed me, picked me up, and said suddenly and loudly "What are you doing here?" My being startled is the last part of that memory.
In the forest were very tall trees. One in particular, just south of my Uncle Art's house, stood above nearly all of the others. It had bark so thick that it was more than the width of my shoe and there was a kind of natural trail up the trunk to the lowest limbs which were surely many feet off the ground. I decided to climb the tree to see what the world looked like from up there. I climbed until I was exhausted and stopped to rest. Upon becoming still, I realized that the tree was swaying in the wind. What a beautiful feeling. Like nothing I have felt since.
As Dad was driving us somewhere one day he spotted a badger and stopped and got out of the pickup to shoot it. I assume now that this animal had been after our chickens or something because it would not have been like Dad to kill for fun. In fact, in his later years when getting meat for the table was no longer a requirement, he hunted with a camera and had the rifle and pistol for protection. I remember that he shot the badger and it started towards us. He shot again and again. He was a good enough shot that I am sure he hit it several times - even with the relatively inaccurate 45 on a target that small. His final shot was taken when the badger was just a few feet from him and its momentum carried it to his boot. He was shaking. I soon realized that the badger would have done great damage to Dad had it reached him alive.
I have always wanted to own a 1948 Dodge Powerwagon. They are for sale today on the internet. This particular vehicle was our way into the woods in the areas that were being logged. I got to tag along once and I learned to love compound low gear as one has time to get a good look at the woods without expending any effort.
I also took a wild ride on a small caterpillar. We were traveling into the woods west of the saw mill which was west of our house (remember that my front yard was logically north of my 1952 house). I think it would have been a D6 or bigger. Anyway, as we were moving forward we started across a small tree which was laying in our path. The farther we got onto the log the higher the front of the cat pointed. We were well past 45 degrees when the cat finally passed its center point at which time we slammed down to the ground.
posted by G'pa Bob at 12:23 PM
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