The Deserted Island 12-13-17

MORE OLD TIMEY STUFF

The Deserted Island - Excerpt from my book 12-13-17

A creek ran through our farm and on the northern edge it forked two ways, one toward the barn that was left alone and the other out across the south pasture. It was kind of low in the middle there, and my stepfather decided it was here that would make a dandy pond.

He borrowed the neighbor's tractor and built a sort of dam on the lower west side out of sticks and rocks and dirt and the area slowly filled up with water until it was about 8 feet deep in the deepest parts.

A small knoll in the middle never covered with water and it was this that was destined to become my own deserted island. A few good sized shrubs grew on the crest of it and I would eventually make a campsite out there and play Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Uncle Ray, not willing to pass up any opportunity, stocked the pond with 'bullheads' a type of catfish. They never did well but a few always managed to survive out there. Two inner tubes lashed together with two boards tied on top became my raft. It was necessary because the finished pond was around 600 feet across.

From that knoll, I surveyed my small domain with satisfaction that only a 9 year old Robinson Crusoe could feel and tied a red bandanna flag to the tallest part of the big shrub while the dog watched with great curiosity. I formed a small ring of stones and claimed my island by lighting my first campfire, while Uncle Ray on the shore shook his head and grinned. The fire had nowhere to go even if it did escape the small circle. It never did. I would spend many an evening there roasting marshmallows and watching the stars.

Autumn came and so did the ducks! Wild ducks from the north on the way to southern warmer climes would land in the pond and swim around.... often dozens of them completely unafraid of me or my dog. In fact they took great delight in teasing him.. approaching the shore and quacking and luring him to swim out after them. They easily stayed out of reach quacking and infuriating the dog until exhausted he would swim for shore. In a short time they would mock him and get him out there again and the game went on. Bingo never did catch a duck tho it wasn't from lack of trying.

Winter came and the pond froze solid. I dragged the inner tube raft out with me just to be safe, but the ice was almost 3 inches thick. Uncle Ray gave me skates and I tried but never could learn to skate worth a hoot. The skates were destined to pass their life in the corner of my bedroom closet while i preferred to run and slide on the ice with the soles of my rubber boots.

The old farm changed hands a few times in the years and when I was in my 50's I visited to see it again and met the new owners from Connecticut who welcomed me. They had removed the clap-boards and porches from the old log house and built a new east addition off the old kitchen that looked so out of place. I walked out to the south pasture and saw the pond was still there, not as full as it used to be, and the island looked so much smaller than I remembered. I sighed and headed back to my pickup and it would be the last time I would visit the old place.

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