One of my nieces raises hogs, and just this week my sister (her mom) brought to my attention that the hog show at our county fair is Sunday if we want to go. That reminded me of the following story from our youth. So make yourself a sausage sandwich and sit back and enjoy “Charlie and the Salesman.”

We were about ten miles from the nearest large town, and our farm set at the end of a gravel lane nearly one-tenth of a mile long. Though we weren’t quite in the middle of nowhere, we could see it from our front porch. There was always livestock of some variety around because we five kids were all active in 4-H and FFA.

One of the resident animals was a big red Duroc boar hog named Charlie. Even though Charlie, at over four hundred pounds, was just a big pussycat, that’s still a lot of pussycat, so Charlie came and went pretty much as he pleased. This was before the days of one-piece fence panels, and woven wire fence was barely a challenge to him. We soon learned that the rule of thumb was, if Charlie could get his nose through something, the rest of him would soon follow! We had tried electric fence with equal results. If he got as much as a snout hair under the electric wire before he felt the jolt, it just incited him to continue forward taking several feet of the electric fence with him. The bottom line here is that Charlie pretty much had the run of the place and ruled the roost.

As I remember, the reason we put up with him was because he didn’t root or tear things up like you’d expect a four-hundred pound hog to do, and since our place sat so far from the road, and Charlie being a hog and all, he evidently didn’t have the ambition or drive to navigate his big carcass clear to the road and get into any trouble there either. He’d get out in the morning, graze around the barnyard and loll in the shade all day, then find his way back in again at night; quite unusual to say the least. All he seemed to require of us was his feed at night and a good belly scratch each time we passed him.

Mom had an upholstery shop built onto our house, and did a goodly amount of business, so there was a lot of traffic in and out of our long lane. Evidently, enough of her customers were from surrounding farming communities that if Charlie happened to be wandering about, they paid him no mind. Even the UPS drivers had learned to ignore Charlie when he greeted them from the middle of the drive. Occasionally, however, she’d get a visiting salesman from one of her fabric companies out of state, and these guys usually came straight from the “big city.”

One particular day, while working away in her shop, she suddenly heard a vehicle horn blaring from the driveway. Looking out the window, she saw one of the big city salesmen sitting in his van in front of her shop, one hand smashing the horn button as he peered frightfully out the driver’s side window. “Odd,” she thought. But even stranger was the fact that the whole van was rocking and wobbling as if being shaken by an earthquake.

This is probably as good a place as any to stop the story and tell you a little bit about our mom. Mom was about as big around as a minute and weighted about as much. She was a small spitfire of a lady who always had a cup of coal-black coffee in her hand (probably explaining her feistiness.) She loved nothing more than creating elegant pieces of furniture for people in her upholstery shop, but all the while remained as common as a dandelion. She loved to laugh and joke and would rather listen to the rock and roll songs my buddies and I played than anything. In fact she once told me she wanted a certain song by the rock band Three Dog Night played at her funeral.

So there sat the big-city salesman with an expression on his face like his whole life was passing before him, his eyes as big as hubcaps, in his van that was rocking and reeling like one of those old coin operated kiddy rides in front of the grocery store. Mom walked into the yard to unravel the mystery, and as she rounded the front of the van, there were all four hundred pounds of Charlie gleefully scratching himself on the front bumper! I’d love to have heard the conversation around the water cooler the first day that salesman was back at his company. “Come on guys, I’m serious! I really was trapped in my van in the middle of nowhere by Hogzilla! It was a huge, beastly red thing that weighed fifteen hundred pounds and could look through the windshield right into my eyes! If you don’t believe me go look at the red hair on the bumper.”

Now, knowing my mother, that salesman sat there for a while longer; not on purpose mind you, but it would be tough to chase away a four hundred pound hog and roll with laughter at the same time.

So goes the story of Charlie and the salesman. I don’t remember what ever happened to Charlie, but he probably died of old age as he may have even been too tough for sausage. And no, probably much to mom’s chagrin, we did not play Three Dog Night at her funeral. I hope this story gives you a chuckle or two, and thank you for allowing me to stray slightly from the usual outdoor shenanigans I try to bring you here in Outrageously Outdoors.

Steve Gilliland, Inman, can be contacted by email at [email protected]

When public pools were first built during the WPA years, I am sure naysayers complained about wasting water and effort. However, during days of summer temperatures registering in the 90s or better, cool town water parks draw young and old like a magnet draws iron filings. On our hilltop, we’ve created the equivalent of the public pool for our resident birds.

As heat builds, wicking away moisture and leaving dusty creek beds, we place pans of water under nearby trees and bushes for our chickens. I expected local birds would visit, but the crowds approach Disney tourist proportions. These are especially a haven for adult birds parenting just-fledged adolescents. Their crazy behaviors lead to funny scenes at the local “pool.”

Young robins with mottled coloring and spindly bodies remind me of 6th and 7th graders who’ve reached adult height but haven’t yet filled out. Their parents come to drink and groom circumspectly. Their offspring come to quench their thirst and end up splashing half the water out of the container.

Orioles behave more cautiously regardless of age. Mature birds and adolescents come to the water alert and prepared to flee at the least disturbance. When juvenile robins join them, the bright orioles leave immediately. House finches and sparrows also tend, like their kin the orioles, to be businesslike in their drinking habits, focusing on function and skipping frivolity.

A flicker youngster and its mother refreshed themselves yesterday and discovered tasty insects in a nearby elm. Watching mom teach her baby to crawl up the coarse bark and pick out insects consumed at least 15 minutes of my morning.

Mom successfully pecked gourmet delights out of the rough texture. However, her offspring hunted without victory until the mother regurgitated insect chunks into its wide-open beak. I imagine she’ll be glad when that full-size child finds its own dinner.

To add to the entertainment, raucous blue jays are a rowdy bunch at the waterhole. They never come one or two at a time. A gang soon follows the first jay landing on the dish’s edge. It’s the equivalent of neighborhood kids agreeing to meet at the pool at the same time. Once these troublemakers arrive, even the chickens back off.

These pretty but noisy birds are the equivalent of bullies who push and dunk everyone else. By the time they finish splashing around, I have to rinse feathers out of the remaining water and refill the container.

Ironically, one little visitor challenges the blue jays to the water. We have a juvenile squirrel who sunbathes by the water pans. He doesn’t mind the other creatures who come to drink as long as the family dog is secured inside the house.

No matter how wild and crazy the robins and jays splash, that little squirrel lays outside the dish, preening like he’s in the shower. Between feathered visitors, he pulls himself up on the pan’s lip to slurp his fill.

While these water dishes aren’t permanent like a WPA pool, they serve the same purpose of providing refreshing breaks from summer heat. The lady watching from inside an air-conditioned house enjoys plenty of entertainment as well.

Native Kansan Karen Madorin is a local writer and retired teacher who loves sharing stories about places, people, critters, plants, food, and history of the High Plains.

Every year, I find myself saying the same four words, “Where did summer go?” Families with kids adapted to a summer schedule filled with t-ball, camp, swimming lessons, and 4-H activities and now the schedule is about to change again! With the start of school just a few short weeks away it is the perfect time to call a family meeting and get everyone on board with the new routine.

Research shows that kids ages 3 to 6 need ten to twelve hours of sleep each day. As youngsters begin pre-school or the early grades it is important to have a set bedtime with a routine that encourages success. Perhaps you want to target 8 p.m. as bedtime. If so you will want to begin the wind down process around 7. Perhaps a warm bath and bed time story help your child to relax. Planning what will be worn the next day or eaten for breakfast also encourages a less hectic morning when the alarm goes off. Whatever you want to adopt as a routine, now is a good time to start working toward your final goal. If the summer schedule has been lax, start moving the bedtime up a few minutes each day until your target is reached. That should help make the first day of school a success.

One of the most important messages I like to share at this time of year is to “Eat breakfast every day.” As kids start back to school they need to start each day with some nutritious food in their stomachs. It’s really brain food. Countless studies have shown that kids perform better in school, and are less irritable, when their day starts with breakfast.

There is no doubt about it: our bodies need to refuel after not eating for 10-12 hours. So why is it that breakfast is the meal most often skipped? The most common answers I hear are that “there isn’t time” or “my kids aren’t hungry in the morning.”

As you plan to start each day with breakfast, keep in mind the following tips. Breakfast does not have to be a big meal. Try to include something from the grain group as well as a fruit. Breakfast does not have to be traditional. Be creative; nutritious foods are healthy any time of the day. Last night’s leftovers can be reheated in a hurry. Peanut butter can be spread on a piece of whole grain toast and served with a glass of 100% fruit juice. Equal amounts of juice, milk and yogurt can be combined for a smoothie like treat. Get your day off to a great start and be a breakfast eater!

And finally, if you live close enough to school can your children safely walk or bike to school? Research shows that starting your day with some physical activity (i.e. walking to school) encourages better concentration and behavior in the classroom. If your schedule allows it, do a trial run with your child; either walking or biking on a safe route to the front door of the school.

Here’s hoping your school year gets off to a great start!

Donna Krug is the District Director and Family & Consumer Science Agent with K-State Research and Extension – Cottonwood District. You may reach her at: (620)793-1910 or [email protected]