And Never The Twain Shall Meet.

Carol and I had an appointment in New Glasgow the day the airlift took place, we decided to go the Blue Mountain Road, and to do so meant going through the Nine Mile Woods. We rounded the turn at Cameron Lake , and lo and behold there was the Coast Guard truck, that had left the Hudson’s Hill not too far ahead of us. I stopped behind it, thinking mechanical problems. There was no sign of driver or striker.

“ Where are you guys at. “ I yelled. “ Down here,’ came the reply, and here come Mel up through the bushes with a five gallon plastic pail of water from the lake, followed by Harold with a like pail.

“ I’ve got to get this truck cleaned up; I can’t take it back to the yard in this condition; I’d be fired for sure. “ wheezed Harold, completely winded. “That’s the last creetur I’ll ever transport for that crowd up there at the base, “as he sluiced the pail of water down the floor of the truck, and green effluent flowed over the rearmost bunk. ( the truck, by the way, was brand new)

We had our appointment to keep, and left the hapless driver and his striker still bailing, sluicing and cursing.
 ***
 As soon as the Locks got established ( to a point ) Vernon and Ardie decided that they would take their annual leave. Wilfred and Audrey were slated to go out as relievers, but something come up that they didn’t go. I wasn’t able to go, because my back hadn’t recovered from the injury referred to in Farmer John, so they asked my wife if she would take the job. She said yes, so we went on the Island , moving into their house.

Soon the fun began. The first thing I looked for was the live stock. I could see the heifer; she was staked out down by the light, tied with a junk of nylon rope that could moor a ten thousand ton ship, “ Where’s the bull, “ I asked George.  “ I got him tied down at the other end of the Island “ was his reply, and as an after thought, he added, “ I think the cow is pregnant.”  “ That’s good, “I said, “You will have lots of fresh milk. “

Sandra, the younger of the girls, came bounding in  before we had our groceries put away, with momentous news. “ The bull and cow are getting married. “  “ Da said. “ I wondered if it was to be formal affair. Sandra chattered on about agronomics; how much hay could be cut on the Island and how much would have to be boated. And about the pig, ( George had gotten a piglet from his mentor, Farmer John, on a flying trip to CB, also a host of chickens ) So the island in the sea was a Bedlam of  peeping, oinking and bawling.

Every day or so something would occur that was mind boggling. The first was the tuning in of the TV antenna. The houses were only about forty meters apart and Carol and I were sitting outside when this episode took place, so it could be said we had a ringside seat.

First of all, to get things off to a good start, the wrench slipped and George cut himself on a sharp edge of the antennna bracket. That required first aid from Ethel who didn’t do it right if ever she could do it at all. When that row was over, and the multi-channel yagi was firmly affixed to the mast, George climbed up on the roof of the bungalow, knocking the ladder down in the process, narrowly missing Danny and the Chihuahua .

Ethel and the girls were the signal judges; as George swung the antenna to get the best signal possible, they were to make a report to George via Danny, who was standing on the back step with the door open to facilitate communication. George rotated the antenna clockwise. It didn’t have a whole lot of spare cable, and he soon had it completely wrapped. “How’s it now,” he screamed, “How’s it now ma,” piped Danny in a pre- puberty falsetto. By the time the information was relayed, George had given her another good twist and snapped the lead in.

I would like to say that George took this minor glitch in stride, but alas, it was not to be. The first thing he did was throw his cap away; then he got down off the roof, tore in the house and put his fist though the plastic cabinet of the TV, busting two tubes and cutting himself again. I thought that I had heard some poetically swearing in my time but realized then that my ears were still virgin.

Things had just begun to wind down to a dull roar when I heard this huffing and snorting coming from behind the house. Got up to have a look and here come the bull with his nostrils flared, his eyes as red as two beets, towing a section of board walk consisting of two four x fours for stringers topped with two x six planks. It was a tough tow and he was plowing out the odd carey chicken, but it was plain to see he was determined to reach the heifer at any cost.

George was ending up his happy dance, when he spied El Toro , “Danny, come on.!”  “The bull is loose. !” They started to run after the tow which by now was shedding a plank or two along the way. It was no contest; you could see the race was to the fittest.

The little heifer had her neck stretched out and was making muted lowing sounds in greeting, her tether as taut as the main sheet on Bluenose II in a twenty five knot breeze. The bull ranged up alongside, his flanks heaving in and out like the bellows of a Hoehner accordion in the hands of a half snapped Newfoundlander.

George and Danny arrived on the scene and George had a brainstorm. The Island tractor was sitting nearby and George onto the seat and had her going in a thrice; backed in to what was left of the board walk, jumped off, pulled out his trusty toad stabber, cut the  bull’s tether, took two half hitches on the tractors drawbar, then back in the saddle.

Now the bull was pretty able, but he was no match for that 135 Massey-Ferguson. He was soon back where he belonged; at the far end of the Island . George shut her down and went home, shouting to Carol and me as he went past with many expletives “ He won’t move that.” Meaning the tractor.

George went down and checked out the heifers girt that afternoon, and come up to our house to say that the pregnancy was progressing well. I made a bad mistake when I asked if it was possible that she was not pregnant, for the shadow of doubt had formed in my mind. By the time George reached  to the end of his desertion of “Farmer John said” I was completely sure of one thing; I had no knowledge whatever of biology.

The days passed and with every day a new adventure into the land of idiocy. My patience was getting very short with this poltroon, and the first day that words were spoken was the day he came up to our place and said to Carol, “ When you go on watch this evening I want you to go down to the engine room and wash down the # 2 generator. “ Carol asked what she should use as a cleanser, and George replied, “ I set out a can of naphtha by the door as you go in. “

I completely lost it. And rightly so; because even Denny Dimwit would know better than to even open a can of fluid with a flash point of less than 44c degrees in an environment such as that. The temperature in the engine room that evening was about 40 degrees. I ranted and raved and George raved back, finally he conceded to let her wash the genny with plain soap and water, as I had suggested.

Haying time came and George proceeded in the harvest of the crop, using the scythe he had acquired from Farmer John. All this sweatin’ and swingin’ threw me into fits of nostalgia, when I thought of my dad mowing back in the forties. There were little haystacks here, and little hay stacks there. The cow and bull watched with desultory interest from their respective ends of the Island . The bull had a new anchor, because the tractor was needed for other things. One of the haystacks was right near our house.

Carol was on the 0600-1200 and 1800-2400hrs watch. This meant that she had to go down to the fog alarm building and sign out at midnight. She was terrified that the bull would get loose, chase and possibly gore or trample her, so she always took Timber, Ardies German Shepherd along to protect her. The dog would succumb to his instinct and go apprehending criminal type all over the Island leaving her on her own. Some nights we didn’t get to bed until 0200 or so waiting for him to tire of these imaginary nabbings.

I was in the process of building a dory for  Dana, my youngest son, my work site was at the west side of the house. All the lumber and the set up dory were there; safe from all harm so I thought. I was wrong.

One night Carol went down to sign out and when she came back (minus the dog ) and we were having a cup of tea before turning in, she mentioned that she felt a presence on the way back to the house. I laughed and said that was probably the bull. Just as I spoke the clothes line pulley on the porch squeaked a couple of times and I averred that it must be breezing up and the line was moving, with the wind.

A few minutes later came a crash from the western side of the house. I grabbed a flashlight and went out and come face to face George’s bull, who was busily engaged in wrecking my partially built dory. Tried to drive him, but he was having a lot of fun and let me know in no uncertain terms that play time was not over. So I went back in and called George on the CB set. Ethel came back to me. “ Tell George the bull is loose and is tearing my dory all to hell.! “  “ George said to tie him off somewhere, and he’ll look after him in the morning. “

After some heated words went out over the airways, George and Danny arrived up to corral the bull, who by now had turned away from the wreck of the dory and was concentrating his efforts on the haystack. Eventually they manage to subdue him and tied him up to a spruce tree for the night.

All the hay was finally dried and put in the barn that Guptill had built when he was keeper. George had twenty or so Farmer John chicken house there. They were free to come and go, and when the hay was stowed in the loft, all the chicks flew up on top of it. The barn was not ceiled upstairs. Some of the flock fell down between the studding and were never seen again. One thing about it; they were spared the roaster.

I could go on to tell of the day that Lucky the yellow Lab’s luck ran out, but as a dog lover I can truly say that some stories are better left untold……….and by the way; the heifer wasn’t pregnant.