Previously: Malaina told of a friend’s observation on cows and went on to recall the farmers in her family while growing up.

The back pasture where my grandparents lived was so huge that my sister and I spent many a day walking up and down the fence that formed the border line between two counties. (She and I thought it amusing that we could stand in one county while holding our arms and camera in another!)

Other days, my sister and I spent all day fishing at one of three ponds on the property. We cut our fishing poles from a stand of bamboo that had grown around–and choked off–and old outhouse.

After hunting for fishing string and a hook, we dug under old rotten logs for earthworms. Equipment complete, we headed down to the fishing pond. Usually we packed a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water before we walked for almost an hour from one fishing pond to the others. We got to the ponds by following deep trails made by well-fed cows. These trails had been carved by sharp hooves. Since these trails were tromped over and over, they became mini-gullies after several years.

Heavy rains turned the deep grooves into small streams that pushed out sand, depositing it in delta-like mounds elsewhere. Snakes liked these washed out, places which provided fast access from one area to another.

It’s been a long time and I can’t recall the kind of fish we caught, maybe bream (pronounced like “brim”) or catfish. We often threw the fish back, but the catfish usually ended up on the supper table.

Malaina (Jan. ’18) adds, “The last time I saw that stand of bamboo, no one would guess there was a tiny building in the center.”

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