Chapter 6

I had my areas of solitude that I told no one of. I would go to any one of them when I needed escape. The only visible one was a make-shift sandbox on the side of the hill beside our cabin. Our dog Clancy’s house was there where he was generally tied up…unless he was going to be used for work. I would go and play with the cars but mostly would talk to Clancy. He and I would have some serious conversations! I would ramble on about nothing really, pretending he understood and talked back. I told him I wished that he could come inside the cabin and live with us but that it was God’s will that he stayed outside because God didn’t make animals to live in houses. I think he understood.

The others weren’t so visible. My favorite one was in the hay loft of the goat barn…..as mentioned earlier….until it was invaded. It was my favorite because it was behind all of the hay so nobody could see me but, the sound of the goats below somehow was soothing. I could also look out towards the airstrip and both the cow barn and horse barn through the cracks of the siding. I felt completely safe there. Nobody could see me and I could hear in advance if someone was coming and make myself scarce. I loved the goats. Especially the kid goats. There was a separate small barn where the baby goats, kids, where kept. That was another favorite spot of mine. I can’t remember how old they had to be but, just when their little horns would start to form a bump on their heads, it was time to de-horn them. Probably the grossest, noisiest thing I’ve witnessed….well, perhaps the cutting off of the chickens heads but at least that was quiet!! I hollow, cylindrical iron would be heated up until it was white-hot, the baby goats head held between the knees. In one quick motion the iron was brought down over the horn nubs, pushed to sear through the skin and then twisted to break the horn off. I couldn’t bear to watch this. The poor kids would scream bloody murder but, alas, it was something that had to be done so when they were adults, there was no horns to inflict wounds, or death, if they were to fight. Surprisingly there wasn’t much blood associated with this as the iron was so hot that it cauterised the hole. However, the smell was horrid. Burnt hair and flesh filled your nostrils upon entrance to the kid barn after an afternoon of this. I would often sneak away and go sit in the pen with the kids and speak all kinds of things to them. I always said the same thing to them after a de-horning. I would sit in the middle of each pen, one by one, and first apologize for what had happened to them and wish to be able to take the pain away but, I would assure them that it was God’s plan and that sometimes God’s plan hurt but the pain only would last for a couple of days and then it would be over. They seemed to understand.

The other spot was a little stranger. Out by the hangar there was a trailer, or something, that was raised off the ground by about a foot. There were spaces between the support beams that held it up, maybe a little wider than a foot apart, that I used to hide in. This was my REALLY secret spot. It was always a process getting into it because first, I had to make sure nobody followed me, or saw me go there. There was a bit of an empty space between where we stored all the field equipment and the pig barn as well as behind the last row of cabins so, I had to run as fast as I could through the open area so as not to be seen and squeeze my way underneath. This is where I went when I needed to cry. I knew that absolutely no one would know I was there. Nobody could sneak up, or walk in as they could with the other spots. I would spend hours there…as long as I could until I thought I would get in trouble again for not being where I was supposed to be. It was there, in that space, that I grew up. It was also there where I was allowed to be a scared little boy without anyone making fun, or without getting in trouble for crying. When I would crawl out of that dark space, I was always ready again. I was ready to face whatever it was God sent my way…..because, after all, this was God’s plan for me.

It’s interesting. In writing this I realize that I don’t ever remember a time in my life where I felt innocent. Whatever that means….or however that feels. For as long as I can remember I always had to hide things. I don’t remember being allowed to be a kid really. I was always either keeping secrets or trying to fix things.