so as to save lumber and shave a few steps off taking care of the live stock. I am glad we have a milk cow and a mule for plowing and transportation. After I look for eggs, I’ ll throw them some hay. Well, Hell!
There’ s tracks and feathers and blood all over the chicken yard. Looks to be two dead hens and four broken eggs. It could be anything; raccoons, weasels, fox but judging from the tracks I’ ll be fox hunting this afternoon.
Back at the cabin, I report on the hen house massacre and sit down to a hot cup of coffee in the comfortably warming kitchen. Ma made some soda biscuits which I et with sorghum syrup and a slice of ham. It was a good breakfast but I still missed eggs.
I lite a couple of oil lamps and tended to the parlor stove( which is kinda funny since we don’ t have a parlor). Then I take my shotgun down from over the back door. It is a 12 gauge, Black Prince, that I won in a poker game a few years back.
I slide the locking lever over to break down the barrel to check for any fouling. The barrel looks clean. It’ s a single shot which means the shooter has to be a pretty good shot because a second chance takes breaking down the barrel, removing the spent shell, shoving in a fresh load, snapping back the barrel, then getting the stock back on your shoulder and aiming.
By the time a hunter gets all that done your game has already scampered away. But on the bright side, a single-shot gun keeps you from gettin’ profligate with your ammunition.
Well, I’ m warm again, I’ ve got a full belly, a clean 12 gauge and no excuses. So, I wrap a couple of biscuits up in an old napkin, tie a scarf around my ears, hitch up my collar, and set off on a path of retribution for the varmint that ruint my mornin’.
I don’ t have a good notion of what time it stopped snowing but Brother Fox done his dirty work after it quit. And that makes him easier to track. I can see that he took off from the henhouse and headed down the ridge to the creek. And that reminds me that I forgot to fetch water.
We have a cistern and pitcher pump to water the animals but for drinking and cookin’ water I have to get that from the spring about half way down the other side of the ridge. So, it’ s back to the cabin, again to fetch a couple of pails.
I hate havin’ to go over to the spring. It’ s steeper on the west side of the ridge so the snow will be deeper. It seems like the day is conspirin’ against me goin’ after that fox but we can’ t get along without water.
Well, I was right but it brings me no pleasure to be so. The snow is deeper and I can’ t make out my regular path down to the spring. I don’ t get half way down the slope before I trip on a hidden root. This pitches me headlong down hill, tumblin’ faster and faster. I finally get stopped but its through the agency of hundred plus year old oak tree.
I didn’ t get the water. I didn’ t get to eat my extra biscuits. I didn’ t get to shoot the fox and the sun still ain’ t up. But on the good side, I don’ t think I broke anything except my pride.
Life could be tough on a cold winter’ s day, a hundred years ago in Brown County. But that’ s no reason not to come on down to check on how things are today.
They are good and gettin’ better. •
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Jan./ Feb. 2022 • Our Brown County 55