There were always cats (and always dogs) in the valley at Rustic Hollow Shelter. Before my time and before my grandparents time... and there were horses, and dairy cows (my mom milked 30 head for years while my father taught school)..... and goats. My father had over 30 goats that resided in 'the barn' before it became The Kat Barn. The farmstead that is now Rustic Hollow has been in my family for over 175 years. The Conklin Farm was officially Willow Echo Farm in my dad's day. My father loved his outdoor cats, and Ole Yeller and Blackie were two of his favorites... Not such creative names for those two, but the names fit the cat. Both died at a very old age. In fact, Blackie nearly outlived my father. Blackie was one of the 'barn cats' who roamed freely during the day and stayed inside the barn in the straw and hay at night. Blackie followed my father every morning to the hen house so he could 'mouse' and help protect the hens. As my father aged, so did Blackie. Blackie lost his site from cataracts I suppose. He became totally blind. But he would follow my father every morning to the hen house as he always did. When my father was no longer there, it became my duty to open the top of the barn door every morning and Blackie would sail over the door and head ON HIS OWN to the hen house. He knew his way there and back and enjoyed a long happy life as a 'barn cat' at Willow Echo Farm. Blackie, in his younger days, was also a NINJA Cat. He is the only cat I have ever actually seen climb sideways UP a wall on a building next to the barn. He simply dug in his claws and did some 'rock wall climbing' without any footholds...he used the siding and he could often be seen climbing upwards in his daily 'hunt'. I won't forget Blackie, nor the First Ole' Yeller. Other animals came and left but when my father had his massive stroke, I was left in charge of a rather unruly herd of Goats. Some very friendly nanny goats and one really BIG BILLY Goat that my father always warned me to "not go in his pen'. I did not. But on occasion I did have to see that the pen was cleaned out and 'deal' with Big Billy. The theory is that you allow the Billy to be with the nanny's and you mark your calendar for the gestation period and everything is in order. (We had a calendar in the barn just for that).Well, there was a 'young Billy' too and once...well maybe twice.....during my overseeing of the herd, either Big Billy or little Bill would manage to open the doors and get in with the gals and......well.....planned parenthood didn't happen then....Wanda would get up in the night in the middle of the winter and see a frantic note from me that a goat was having its kid and I was in the 'barn'. Or a trail of towels through the house was also a 'signal of the same.' Or, she would come out of the bedroom and see and 'hear' the bleating of a tiny new kid in a box in front of the fireplace. There is definitely something to be said for 'planned parenthood' in the animal kingdom. And, you know, we had to milk those mamas too. I have to say cold goat milk is the best to drink though I am not certain it was any more likable to me than regular cow's milk and I still do not really like milk except on cereal.
So my goat herd of 30 exploded over time and when I was sure my father was okay with it, I found other farmers and friends to send the goats home with. Eventually my 'goating days' were over. I can tell you I was relieved.
If you have ever had a goat, or two.... you know how smart they really are. My father's goats could turn on lights that I had turned off, and they could flip up the latch and open the doors inside the barn....No, there were no 'childproof' locks for the doors back then. And, when I plugged in their winter water heater bucket and literally 'fenced it in' with a large roll of wire, I had to put the goats inside the barn so they could not actually 'see' me do it...for I knew they'd figure out how to move the roll of wire and might chew the electric cord. Actually, one of them really DID manage to get to the cord and chewed right through it. No fried goat...he might have had a thrill, but evidently the chomp was fast and completely through at one bite. Wanda will say, however, that she had no idea how much lawn area there was to mow after the goats were no longer there. They are the best lawn mowers ever.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...... and I cannot forget about Duke and Duchess, a pair of the oldest geese I have ever known. They were a present from me to my parent's when I was younger. They spent the winter living in Big Billy the goat's pen in the barn..But in summers Duke and Duchess spent their time during the day outside and we always headed them inside every night so predators did not feast on goose for their supper. Now Duke and Duchess were inseparable. And Duchess was 'the lady in charge'. I have never heard a goose fuss and nag and nag and fuss til poor old Duke did her bidding. She would make him (*yes, I said make him) chase the tires of any car that drove in. She would flap her wings from the sideline and squawk and yell til he chased the cars away. Over and over he did her bidding. Whatever Duchess wanted, Duchess got. I remember a day when some city folk were here, actually relatives and their children. We gave them the country job of herding the geese to the barn for the night. Suddenly the children came flying into the house screaming and crying and I flew to the rescue of what I heard was a gruesome scene. "We killed a goose, we killed a goose' they yelled. I arrived to see poor Duke laying flat out on the ground, completely still, while the children's father stood helplessly by his side. "Poor goose, poor goose,' we didn't mean to kill the goose'. By that time my mother and maybe my father had come out of the house to see what the ruckus was. I went over and put my hand gently under Duke's neck, and, as I had suspected, he jumped up and took off. He had knocked himself out like a light when he turned to 'run' to the barn for his life and hit a cement block....head on. Duchess died several years before Duke and, I honestly think those were some pretty happy (and quiet) days in Duke's retirement. Perhaps his best days....he really seemed content then...I may have seen a smile in that beak too. Though he honored and obeyed his lady Duchess for years.
We must have eaten a lot of fresh goose eggs, cause there never were any 'little goslings' running around...... Those were the days......B.S....('Before Shelter") Those were all good days too.
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