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| Ellen shot this mushroom along our ridge road. |
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| First trip up the driveway with the new John Deere. |
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| The new tractor. |
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| Ellen's garden. |
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| Ellen took this shot of a ambitious spiker near the fire pit on top of the Grouse Hollow. |
Ah, sweatshirt weather! This last week
of cooler, dryer days has been one of inspiration for me. The cooler
mornings have dredged up a nearly summer long latent ambition to get
outside and get the things done I have put off all summer because it
was too muggy or buggy or hot or because I have all summer, etc. I
cleaned up the shop and now we can walk through it without peril or
acrobatics. I started cutting and drilling and finishing up a set of
landscape timber planters to replace the rotten ones built somewhere
back in the last century; the timbers have been piled on the garage
floor since May. I got the septic tank cap shoveled out and had
Parr's Septic here to pump it. I got out in the woods and checked my
trail cameras. I had several decent bucks on the screen; last week
Eli showed me half-a-dozen pictures his trail cam recorded of a
black bear up near the Oak Stand right behind our house. I worked on
my Ford 8N to try and get it running well enough to mow our trails -
to no avail. It starts but won't run without the choke pulled out
and feathered, so that'll be another bill. I ended up using our Cub
Cadet lawn tractor to mow a couple food plots.
When I came back in to the house,
smelling of grease and gasoline, Ellen reminded me that she could
count the number of times I have been able to go out and just start
the Ford and get to work with it on one hand. So we went new tractor
shopping. Talk about sticker shock! In the end, I searched
Craigslist and found one right in Stoddard. Anyway, we now have a
newer used John Deere compact diesel 4-wheel drive tractor with
hydro-static drive and a roll bar. It has a loader and bucket, a
belly mower, and a roto-tiller. All cool, but the number one item is
that it starts.
I have been driving tractors on and off
since I was 11 when, after constant begging, I was put in charge of
my “dream” haying job, pulling the 8 forked bails of hay up with
a block and tackled hoist into the barn. I would wait on the seat of
Grandpa Koelker's idling Farmall C until the little cow bell dangling
from a wire that ran all the way through the barn jingled after one
of the loaders, gave it a yank. Then I'd crank the throttle to the
right and drive ahead in low gear down the path left in the middle of
Dad's garden behind the barn (by the manure pile). When the rope
went slack, indicating that some poor soul up in the hot hay mow had
shouted down to Grandpa down on the hay wagon to “trip her”
(Grandpa would pull a rope and the 8 bails would usually fall free
into the mow), I would jamb the gears into reverse and hightail it
back to the barn because Grandpa or Dad or Uncle Ike or Freddy Hafel
were pulling the forks and block and tackle back to get another load.
I learned that even a dream job has a downside - it got to be very
boring back there doing this over and over until all of that day's
hay was stowed away, and I got yelled at if I wasn't fast enough or
slow enough.
Like running the “C” at haying
time, there is a learning curve on using equipment with a loader
sticking out the front. After driving the new John Deere home, I
used the bucket to grade out some of the rain ruts in our driveway.
I also dug up some of the sod in the front yard. I used the tractor
to till up a small fall food plot up in the meadow behind the tobacco
shed. The long-fallow earth there smelled wonderful and the soil was
dark black. Later I drove the new Deere up the ridge and used the
tiller to work up a quarter acre fall food plot. I bumped a fence
post, and caught the bucket on plenty of brush on the way in. Also,
the belly mower did not appreciate the trip up our steep and rough
ridge road, catching on an occasional rock. Later, when I unhooked
the tiller and removed the mower in the tobacco shed, I only hit one
of the tall posts that hold up the roof with the bucket - no harm, no
foul. I did knock over some rocks by the doorway, so now I gotta fix
that. I used the bucket to push and pile some long-down trees and
brush along the property. I even used it to lift and move an ancient
railroad tie that had been the bane of mowing behind the tobacco shed
for the entire 37 summers we have lived here. The little John Deere
worked great and seems to have plenty of muscle for what we need (it
does have 9 more horse power than the N). Anyway, I don't have any
excuses for not getting tractor stuff done now. Oh yeah, anybody
interested in a 1949 Ford 8N?
El and I photographed a wedding
reception for Douglas and Emi Bakkum on Saturday. Douglas is the son
of our friends and neighbors, Doug and Carol Bakkum. Perhaps some of
you might remember the “barn wreckers?” Doug was one of those
guys. They couldn't have ordered more perfect weather and the
setting at Branches Winery near Westby was beautiful. They had a big
tent set up in a yard surrounded by vineyards and farm fields for as
far as one could see. We saw some friends and acquaintances and met
a lot of new people. Borgen's catered food was excellent.
Afterwards, we relaxed on our own porch with a cocktail and then went
in and enjoyed the first fire in the fireplace while watching a
playback of the Badger game.
Until next time, get out - hunting
season is upon us. Actually, it has been for a week or two. Our
neighbor, fourteen-year old Jake Sikora got a 265 pound black bear up
north a couple weeks ago. He was on the guided bear hunt and
vacation rental he won for writing an essay on hunting for a
Wisconsin Bowhunter's Association youth contest last year. His dad,
Gregg was able to video the hunt. They also went goose hunting this
last week in the marsh south of Stoddard. They downed a bird and
couldn't find it, so Gregg called in the calvary, coming over to get
Scout and taking her to the area. “She found it right away,”
said Gregg. Of course, it wasn't right away because Gregg had to
drag a hunting skiff through the woods, through the marsh and across
Coon Creek to get near where the goose went down. When they got
back, Scout was tired and the happiest dog in the world I think. She
loves the marsh. They plan on taking Scout with them on their next
waterfowl trip. Gregg and I are planning some pheasant hunts too.
Small game hunters and sharp stick nimrods will be in the woods this
weekend as well. Here's wishing all of you good luck and a safe
season. Enjoy.
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