Homestead Part Two

The driveway came from the access road and ended deep in the yard. The Gravel was met by a small patch of grass that led to the extra wide steel tubing and large rectangular sectioned wire. once through this you were standing in the pasture that held our livestock. Three cows, and a horse. We named our cows Blinky, Peter and Paul... at least that's how I remember it. As for the horse "Gypsy", well, it was less of a horse and more of a hate filled equine version of Satan. I never had the pleasure of trying to ride this animal, but my brother had many a brush with it... Littereally, Gypsy did not like to be transportation, so once someone was on board, if he couldn't be shaken off, the barn would be used as a scraper to remove the nuisance (Pokey).

To the back section a man made water "dugout" provided water to out massive herd. I would spend quite a bit of time here Hunting for the evasice gopher. This was a common passtime for kids my age, and never involved more than a snare or pellet gun.

I was never a cold blooded killer, not even for rodents. My brothers were far more seasoned than me and they were allowed to trap gophers. I tagged along once, and once only, this day we were on the side of the hill in the pasture that was made by the soil that was removed for the creation of our dugout. This was a perfect place for a gopher to make it's home with the soft ground and elevation, this kept them free of flooded basements and the like I guess. The traps were set at the mouth of their holes. Later we returned to collect the carnage.

I'm not sure what I was expecting to see when I arrived to the first trap, but there trapped by it's legs was victim #1. He was still alive, and I was horrified. My brothers were preparing to put it out if it's misery. I lost it, I begged for his life to be spared, I remember feeling so ashamed for purposely doing this to (what looked like) a harmless adorable furry animal (they are acually the equivalent of rats, only not in sewers, and not as ugly). I bawled and bawled, and though my brothers assured me it was best for both the animal and the farmers whose crops he would ravage, I didn't agree.

I sobbed all the way back to the house, knowing no doubt that the fate of the gopher was decided. That would be the last time I tagged along on a hunt for gophers. However, playing "Rambo" or loyally enlisting into the Corporal Boner and Sargeant Pokey reserves to decimate entire imaginary armies, was never a problem.