Wooly Bears

These Little Guys are Supposed to be Predictors About Winter

Tradition has it that these caterpillars are indicators of the winter to come. 

This year I was beginning to worry about the little guys as I hadn't seen ANY.  I was afraid the cold flooding of the spring and summer had killed them all off.

Needless to say I was greatly relieved to find these while mowing Duke's yard at the Studio on September 8th, 2011. 

The story is that the earlier they show up, the larger they are, and the more narrow the band of brown around their middles, the harder and longer the winter will be. 

The year of the historic snowfall of winter and the historic flood of the Red River of the North the following spring, I started seeing them in June. 

Last year it was July and we had a rough winter. 

This year it's September.  These wooly bears are about average in length, not too fat, not too skinny, and their belly bands are about normal.  That they haven't shown up until September gives me hope.  According to my little friends, this year's winter won't be as bad as last year's. 

Everyone says this winter is going to be worse than last winter.

I'm hoping the Wooly Bears are right and everyone else is wrong.

My Sister's Farm: DAKOTA MORNING

Dakota Morning Farm is where Mary Kittelson lives and works.  A typical sunrise finds her outside, whether it is a stunningly beautiful summer sunrise or no actual sunrise at all because a blizzard is in progress. 

She steps outside her door and is surrounded before it closes behind her.  Dogs, cats, a goose or two, maybe a horse if one has managed to open the gate again and of course any of the kids who aren’t in with the rest of the herd yet. 

Kids indeed.  These kids technically belong to the goat does who gave birth to them, but they are Mary’s kids.  She laughs and says, “I tell my sons they’ve been replaced by goats!”  The goats require about the same amount of attention as raising children, maybe more. 

Suffering from ‘empty nest syndrome’ in the spring of 2005, Mary figured out a way to help ease it.  She noticed the big barn, on the farmstead where she and her husband Brian Kittelson live, was also suffering from ‘empty nest syndrome’.  She began thinking of ways to fill it up.  Filling up her time was also a goal. 

After some research Mary Kittelson decided to try dairy goats.  She narrowed her field further to the Alpine breed, a mountain goat that can take the North Dakota weather.  She found a source in Minnesota, ordered two registered does (females) and one wether (neutered male) via the internet. 

The barn got cleaned and renovated in anticipation of its new occupants.  Fences got fixed and reinforced.  Goats can and will climb, jump, go under and through just about any obstacle.  Mary grins and chuckles, saying, “If you can’t find your goat, look on top of your vehicle!” 

After picking up the ‘babies’ Mary bottle fed them and watched them grow and become bonded with her.  They also bond with their guardian dog Athena, a Great Pyrenees who takes her responsibility seriously.  It’s in her breeding, and she lives up to the reputation for protectiveness of her charges.  Nobody’s going to hurt HER kids! 

When the does got old enough, Mary ordered a registered Alpine buck.  Her herd is now 28 goats strong and she has been selling some of them. 

Goats are versatile.  They are used for meat, milk, and cheese.  They can be trained to be pack animals for camping/hiking expeditions.  Mary mentions, “I want to train them to carry my tools and supplies for me when I go out to fix fence.”

A goat makes a wonderful 4H project.  A wether from a breed used for meat would be the best choice for a project as it can be sold at the end of the season.  Registered animals are not required for 4H projects. 

Goats also make great professional companions for race horses, a tradition that got started for a good reason. It works.  A goat can calm another animal, provide the soothing ‘herd animal’ contact for a more high-strung companion.  Mary suggests that’s where the phrase ‘get your goat’ comes from.  A horse might become upset if someone stole his security blanket, and not run as well. 

Mary milks the does daily.  Her original two does give her more than a gallon per day each. 

The milk is used for feeding the kids after pasteurization, to meet Mary’s strict rules for keeping every step in her program sanitary.  It’s also healthier for them and is a natural way of socializing them with humans.  Since the kids don’t require all the milk produced Mary drinks some of it, gives some away, and makes soap with some of it. 

Goat milk produced at Dakota Morning Farm comes from goats that have never been given antibiotics.  Kittelson chooses holistic treatments for any problems, using natural salves and adding nothing that is not natural to treatments or feed. 

Goat milk is very similar to cow milk but much more easily digested.  The smaller size of the particles makes the difference.  Studies on Crohn’s Disease have shown that one of the factors in the smaller rate of occurrence in Europe as opposed to the United States is the customary use of goat milk in the general population.  Statistically it seems to decrease the chance of developing the disease, and also can decrease the symptoms. 

In most places in the United States raw (unpasteurized) milk can’t be marketed, including North Dakota at the present time.  It can be used by individuals, however.  The most common use is soap-making.

The home-made soap is high in glycerin, which is a humectant that draws moisture to the skin.  It is very mild, has none of the harsh chemicals of a detergent-based bar of soap.  The natural fat particles of goat milk soften skin. 

Kittelson would like to address some rumors regarding goats.  “Goats have gotten a bum rap,” she says.  “They do not eat tin cans, for example.  As for stinking, a buck in rut is the only time that happens! They do, however, prefer flowers to grass, so use a fence!”

Goats need to be properly cared for, trained, socialized, and perhaps most importantly well-fenced!  As pets, the best place for them is outside.  While Mary brings new-born kids into her home for feeding and socialization, as soon as they’re able to get up onto the couch out they go!  Goats require regular hoof-trimming, and should be de-horned at a young age.  They love attention from their people and respond in kind.

“Goats are the funnest, most personable, loving and kind animals,” says Kittelson.  “I had eleven kids in the house.  One of them had a problem with her back leg strength and couldn’t get up onto her feet.  One of the others was ALWAYS with her, not always the same one.  It’s like they took turns keeping her company while she couldn’t get up to play with them.  She was never left all alone.  And the buck will protect the herd.”

Athena, the Great Pyrenees in charge of the farmyard, is an effective backup for the protective buck.  She’s big, beautiful, and instinctively knows her business.  She’s friendly and happy to meet new people, but until she’s sure there’s no threat to her charges, she will somehow manage to remain between a visitor and those she’s there to protect. 

Dakota Morning Farm is a great place to visit.  You can contact Mary at dakotamorning@gmail.com if you'd like.  Watching the goats at play is a treat; they're very photogenic.  Some are outright hams!

Nine Eleven

Ten years ago  there was no time for me to cry; we were re-building part of an Interstate highway and under the (almost) silent sky we listened to radio reports of the unfolding of the day's events and somehow managed to just keep doing what we had to be doing. 

At least the drivers and others listened.  My radio was turned off shortly after reports started coming in; I couldn't listen and continue working.  It didn't take long for the drivers to stop their radio chatter about it, or for them to stop up-dating me.  Being one of very few women on the project I reckon they were 1) being protective; and 2) following orders to prevent me from falling apart and effectively shutting down operations.

Now the tears come, as they have come on this date in other years.  Because now I can weep. 

Part of it is grief, for the ones lost and their families.  Part of it is mourning the loss of a sort of innocence that day shattered for me.  Part of it is sentimental patriotism, the kind that makes my eyes leak every time I see a flag being saluted, or hear our National Anthem.  Part of it is pride for the heroes of the day, for the crew I was working with that day, for all of us who felt that tragedy in our country as we have felt other tragedies before and since, to the DNA in our cells, because we are Americans.  Because we do what we have to do no matter what. 

You can put us down, you can shoot us down, you can take us down, but YOU CAN NOT KEEP US DOWN.

We the People will ALWAYS get back up again.  No matter what.  We may go to our knees, but we'll stay there only just long enough to say a prayer before we're on our feet taking our stand.   

Anyone who thinks otherwise doesn't know the same farmers that I know.  They don't know the same construction workers, the same women and children, the same ordinary everyday Americans that I know. 

Until that day I had never really had reason to wonder about the patriotism, or the readiness to bear arms in defense of the United States, of the ordinary everyday Americans around me.  I suppose I just took it for granted. 

That day I learned not to take it for granted.  By the end of that day, NOBODY had to wonder.

On my way home from work to my daughters that evening I stopped for gas.  There were more than the usual number of people at the gas station.  On that evening there was none of the usual bantering, no laughter, no jokes, not a smile to be seen.  The faces of those people were not afraid.  They were not overtly angry.  The faces I saw that day and that evening, and in the following days, were not in shock.  They were steady on, quietly determined, and they were the faces of ordinary everyday Americans  who were very READY.  Ready for anything that anyone wanted to throw at them.

I heard discussions about weapons and ammunition.  I saw nods of approval when the airforce planes (the only movement in our sky) made themselves known.  North Dakota has two air bases, one in Minot and one in Grand Forks.  I listened to snatches of conversations about family preparedness plans. 

What I did not see that day or in the days following is an impressive testament to ordinary everyday Americans.  I did not see weeping and wailing.  I did not see anyone cowering in fear.  I did not see anyone throwing tantrums of rage. 

Yes there was anger, and there was rage, but it wasn't loud.  It wasn't the yelling and screaming kind of anger.  It was that quiet deadly rage that ought to instill fear in anyone in the cross-hairs.  Nobody was going to go off half-cocked, but everyone had their finger on the trigger. 

I would venture to wager (if I were a gambling sort of person) that there are as many weapons in ND as there are people, maybe more - and that's not counting the military presence. 

Until that day it was another thing I had never really given much thought to.  Everyone hunts; that's been sort of a given for all of my life.  Deer, varmints, birds ... whatever.  That's just the way it is.  Bows, black powder, shotguns, rifles - they're not exactly uncommon in this neck of the woods.  It's nice to know that our people are ready willing and able to use them for defense as well as sustenance.

Just sayin' ...

When I got home that evening, I gathered my girls close.  Because that was what making it through that day was all about.  That's the bottom line, for me and for everyone else.  Our children, our families.  As indivuals, as a whole, as a people, as a nation - just as our families have done since they came here to develop and sustain this country, We the People stand ready.  Woe to anyone who doubts us. 

Just in case anyone is wondering, it's not just the military of the United States that has the right to bear arms.  We PREFER peace and prosperity for all, liberty and justice for all.  We are not apt to up and start blasting away for no good reason.  But be assured that, pushed too far, triggers will be fingered and safeties will be off. 

That's one lesson I learned ten years ago on this day, from ordinary everyday Americans much like myself.  Cold hard faces with hot dry eyes are reassuring to those they shelter; they are to be feared by those who threaten.

The grieving for the lost ones never really stops, you know.  It pops up at odd moments out of the blue, just as that day seemed to.  We do not forget those who are gone from us.  What we do is find a way to remember them, to honor them, that is worthy.  Each of us has a life to live, one moment at a time to give, to pay homage to those who are gone on ahead as well as to show respect to our selves and others. 

That Friday we had gotten word from management that there would be no pause in our day, at the time set aside for America to silently acknowledge and reflect on the events of that day, regardless of what we wanted.

When the time came I got on the business radio and announced that the scale was closed for thirty minutes.  Just that, no explanation, no embellishment, no reason.  I expected the trucks to start piling up but they didn't.  Later the reason came clear.  None of the drivers, not one, failed to immediately stop wherever he was.  My end of the project was shut down.  The operator of the milling equipment, on the other end of the project, had come to the same conclusion that I had and had stopped his eqiupment, and his end of the project, at the same moment I had shut down the scale.  We were worlds apart, for all practical purposes.  I don't think I ever laid eyes on the man, and the only communication between us was that I think I asked the drivers to get a message to him from me, a simple two word message:  Thank you.

There was never a word of remonstrance from management, it was not ever mentioned again, but we had our thirty minutes of reflective silence regardless of what the bosses wanted.  At the end of the thirty minutes, everything resumed immediately as we all carried on as usual. 

That's another thing I learned.  By our collective will, we took those few moments to honor our country, our fellow-Americans, and each other.  We didn't discuss it, we didn't debate it, we didn't sit down and talk about planning it; we just did it.  Two people making independent personal choices - and the collective will of everyone else involved - got the desired result. 


It was a very small thing in the much larger picture, but it is of such small things that bigger things are made. 


Everywhere across our country, at that particular time on that particular day, everyone had a personal choice to make:  to take a few moments for reflection or not to. 


I had no way of knowing that I was not alone; I did it anyway.  I chose.  Every one of us on that project chose. 


Ordinary everyday Americans chose and, in the choosing, took their stand. 


Let it be remembered. 


Remember nine eleven. 


Remember the ones lost.  Remember the silent sky.  Remember the cold hard faces and the hot dry eyes.  Remember the quiet rage.  Remember the choices of the ordinary everyday Americans. 


We do remember. 


We choose to remember.  We choose.  We the People.  We do the choosing. 

Coping With a Storm

What used to be a grain bin lies near the underpass at the east side of Fessenden. Trees and tree branches have been displaced from where they’re supposed to be. The water that flowed over curbs abated quickly, leaving the debris of leaves and small branches behind for home-owners to pick up.

Water also flooded the underpass, which was closed for a time to assure safety while the drains did their job.

Several places in Fessenden will have new landscaping due to the sudden absence of the trees that once provided grace and beauty as well as shade.

The city park got a dousing and the golf course lost a few trees.

Part of City Hall’s new roof took a flying leap.

Now there are blue skies with some clouds; the storm was short-lived but savage in its intensity. 

Fessenden people take it in stride. In this neck of the woods (although there are few woods, and apparently Mother Nature has chosen to subtract a few more) storms are not uncommon.

Undaunted, as soon as the skies clear, people are busy picking up the pieces and putting them away. Chain saws are also not uncommon. Pickups and trailers are put to good use and the city dump will get another large pile of storm-related debris. 

A man pauses in his clean-up efforts. “I saw that the tree in the next door yard was down, then looked out in my front yard and one of mine was down too,” he says.  “The wind sounded like a big train going by.”  He laughs and adds, “I was going to take down those two other trees, and now this one is gone. I don’t know if I’ll still take out the others or not.” The truck he has standing by is filling with branches, not the first load to go out to the dump.

Another man says he was lucky.  “Only lost this one big branch.” The remains of the branch fill a pickup bed, another load for the dump. 

One couple has a new look for one of their evergreens.  The wind broke the top off and dropped it in their yard.  With the help of a niece, they glove up and get busy cutting and carrying to load a trailer.  It will be yet another dump run for them. 

A woman looks at a neighbor’s tree, now caught in one of hers.  She says, “The wind was blowing in exactly the right direction for that tree to catch the one that went down. It could have landed on the house instead.” The sidewalk is broken from the tree’s roots tearing out of the ground beside it.

South of town one of a local farmer’s new bins lies in ruins. A few miles down the road and around the corner another one has taken a hit.  The bins will have to be replaced as mending them is impossible. 

After this storm, as after many, the goal is clear:  clean up the mess and get on with life as usual. 

The City Work Boss gets busy with the street sweeper to neaten up the community’s streets while residents cut and carry big branches or trees, pick up twigs that litter their yards, mow lawns, and fill holes left by now absent tree roots. 

“What the heck, it’s just another storm,” says one resident.  “We can cope with this.  We’ve had to cope with lots worse things and we’re still standing.  We have to be strong and so we are.  We help each other when we need it.  That’s all there is to it.” 

Dakota Harvest Bee

An old-fashioned Harvest Bee took place August 24, 2010 near Chaseley, North Dakota. Wells County did itself proud though the efforts of a number of friends of the Heintz family. Mother, Lorraine Heintz, and son Henry Heintz, farm near Chaseley.  Lorraine’s health condition has kept the family busy traveling in search of treatments. Friends, aware of the stress, have pitched in to offer support.

Londa and Rick Neumiller of Bowdon; Tom Nudd, Bruce and Lexi LaPlante of Harvey; and Leon Klocke of Fessenden, got together with Henry and his sisters, Twyla Delzer of Fessenden, and Kayme Melby of Bowdon. 

Twyla says, “It’s good to know that even in our society when everyone’s so busy and so rushed, you’ve got friends who are out there who are ready to help you in a time of need. Henry felt like a heavy load had been lifted, he was like a different person.” Kayme agrees. “We want people to know that there are still good neighbors out there, and we appreciate them.”

The crew worked the afternoon, from dinner time to supper time, and cleared 250 acres of spring wheat for the Heintz family. 

They brought their combines and semi trucks. “All Henry did was stay in the yard and help unload trucks into the bins,” says Delzer. “We didn’t even have to get out our own combine.” 

The team worked together smoothly, some in the combines, some in the trucks. “Lexi would drive up beside the combines, they would load into her grain wagon, then she’d drive to the semis to unload and go back for more.”

Twyla says, “Rick Neumiller brought the filled semis and trucks in, Henry unloaded them. Londa, Bruce, and Leon were in the combines. Everyone else helped drive and unload trucks.”

It was a hectic afternoon, but the teamwork of longtime friends paid off and the job got done. 

Ruth and Butch Rexine and their son Scott brought over supper, a traditional hearty hotdish at the end of a strenuous day of harvesting. Dinner was a quick and simple sloppy joe meal, eaten in the trucks and combines.

The Heintz family has cause to be very proud of their friends and relatives, as well as being grateful for their support. “Sometimes a family just needs that extra from others, when things get stressful and hard. Having good friends who are like family be there to pitch in their emotional support as well as practical help – it’s pretty awesome. We love these guys.” Recently a cousin, George Grossman of Fargo, drove the family to Rochester, Minnesota. The Flicks, Steve, Mike and Nona, Dave and Cheryl, and John Pervix have helped out often, and are close neighbors. John and Linda Roller have also been extremely supportive. The extended family has grown closer through these trying months, and Lorraine’s son and daughters are thankful for everybody who has stepped up to the plate to help. 

“We didn’t even ask. I think Leon just let them know we could use a hand, and they came,” says Twyla.

“A team photo was not taken because somebody, who shall remain nameless, thinks pictures add twenty pounds,” she explains, when asked for a group picture. Also, people were in motion the entire time, too busy to pose for a camera. 

Twyla remembers, “When I was a little kid, my dad got badly burned and friends and neighbors did the same thing, they got the crop in. I guess some things just don’t change around here, and I’m glad.”

Wells County Fair

Moose Eyes Ribbon at Wells County Fair

Fair time in Fessenden is a sentimental journey for many. It’s the one time of the year when one can count on meeting up with family and friends who may not have seen each other since last year at fair time, or the year before that, or many years ago.

Classes plan reunions for fair time. Families whose members may be scattered far and wide know it is a good time for get-togethers. While the winter holidays may be the more traditional gathering season, the weather can be unpredictable. Summer is better for travel. Friends from childhood are likely to be in town during fair time, whether their school classes have reunions planned or not. 

Frank Hawkridge says, “It’s Old Home Week.  It’s when families get together.” His wife Glenda agrees.  “It’s a family tradition, the way you’re brought up. You come home for the fair.  Everyone’s always so happy and just have a good time.” The Hawkridge family is familiar to Wells County fair-goers. They provide good food and drinks from their stands, sustenance for busy and hungry people. Two of their three children help with the family business.

Rick Jensen from Harvey’s KHND sets up to cover the fair live. He posts current photos and some video on the web site.

It’s just a good time all the way around. Besides the carnival atmosphere, the fair entertainment offers festive activities, live music to dance to, and ribbons by the score in the competitions. Celebrating with friends and family makes it all more special.

When generations of families gather together at fair time, the oldsters may well start talking about ‘the good old days’ (which weren’t always so good, more of a challenge most often) and the youngsters get a chance to listen and learn. If they pay attention they can learn much of great value.  Their elders have the advantage of years of perspective, decades of experience, and lifetimes of learning from successes, and mistakes. The stories are interesting, more so because they involve people you know and are probably related to.

Memories abound at fair time. Everyone has a favorite memory that revolves around going to the fair.  It may be riding the ferris wheel on a first date. It may be getting a blue ribbon with a 4-H project. It may be winning a stuffed animal at one of the carnival games for your girlfriend. It may be the time someone in particular was soaked at the dunk tank. It may be a not so favorite memory of getting sick after going on a ride one too many times – on a full stomach of caramel apples, cotton candy, foot long hot dogs, and lemonade.

Welcoming hugs and strong handshakes when old friends meet again are just the beginnings of conversations about yesteryear, today, and the future. Walking around the fairgrounds at fair time, one never knows who might walk up with one of those hugs or handshakes. 

‘Remember when…?’ is one of the most-voiced expressions during fair time. That’s what happens when groups of people get together. The bonds that have been forged over the lifetimes of people are reinforced. Intervening years evaporate once the ‘catching up’ has been tended to. The best of times past are revisited and re-enjoyed with laughter and perhaps an occasional tear. 

The fair rides aren’t nearly as exciting to adults as they are to children, but every adult can reconnect with the child inside at fair time. The smell of fair food, cotton candy and fried food, can return one to childhood in an instant. The sound of voices talking and laughing, midway music and engines, grandstand noises, and activity going on at the Free Stage can trigger feelings one may not have felt in many years. As evening approaches, the lights bring their own excitement. The taste of lemonade at the fair is like no other. It goes with the environment. A trip to the barns means one might be able to feel the silky texture of the coat of a well-tended 4-H animal.  At the fair the senses are saturated.  It fills them all. 

Remembering is maybe the biggest part of going to the fair.  People can and do thoroughly enjoy every year’s experiences and add them to the extensive collection already accumulated. The trip down memory lane, the sentimental journey, the nostalgia, are precursors of the best part of all – going back next year.

Aunt Delores' Auctions

Going to auctions is a favorite activity for many people. It’s not only a chance to find a bargain; it’s often a social event as well. 

Recently there were two auctions that drew large crowds.  After years of collecting, Aunt Delores decided it was time to auction off many of the items in her collection.

Nieces Lauren, Shelly, and Donna helped her get ready.  When they took on the job they had a good idea about what they were in for.  They started over a year ago and spent many hours sorting, filing, washing, labeling, hauling, and cleaning in preparation for the auctions.

Because of the quantity involved, it was decided to have two separate auctions and to divide them between antiques and household things.    

The first was mainly for the many antiques Delores had gathered over the years.  It was held at the old church just outside of Fessenden; included in the auction was the church building itself, also an ‘antique’.  The day was beautiful, the items for sale were numerous and varied, and the site was crowded with auction-goers. 

Shelly and her husband Norm were busy keeping things organized, “It’s been a busy year,” Norm said. “It’s been a lot of hard work. Lauren and Michael (her husband) and Donna have done an amazing amount of work on this.”  Shelly adds, “Delores just has so much stuff.  We had to get rid of quite a bit, too.”

Duwayne, purchaser of the church building and grounds, isn’t saying exactly what he intends to do with it. 

“I have two houses in Fessenden that are used for hunting lodges and they’re always full,” he says.  The size of the church building would provide more space if he decides to use it for similar purposes. 

The second auction, on Main Street of Fessenden, was largely household items, many new and still in their original boxes.  It was also well-attended.  A common sight was people standing in pairs or small groups chatting as they waited for the things they were interested in bidding on to come up for auction.  Many roamed the premises looking at everything; as flatbeds were emptied after their contents were sold, more items were brought out to replace them and the sale went on. The house, another of Delores Kost’s properties, was also sold.  Early that morning rumbles of thunder caused the auction team of nieces and their husbands to race to the site to cover as much of the inventory as possible with tarps.  Throughout the day there were a few sprinkles of rain, but not enough to do any damage to the sale items or to make anyone want to leave.  A few umbrellas sprouted up but were quickly furled as the sprinkles passed without developing into actual rain. 

Purchasers carried their newly acquired belongings through the crowd and down the block of Main Street closed off for the auction on Saturday and Sunday.  Because of the quantity, the auction continued over from Saturday to Sunday.  Once the auction was finished the look of Main Street returned to its regular look.  Nobody complained about the one block detour during auction hours. 

Niece Donna said, “We’re glad it’s done.  It’s been great coming back and seeing so many people again, and visiting, but we’re glad it’s done.  It’s been a big job.”

Auction attendee Carol says, “I love auctions. They’re just a lot of fun.”