Every spring, after blossom time was finished, Wally Smith would burn the ditch grass along the highway. Keeping the fire out of the orchard grass took some planning.

He would hitch the wagon to the tractor and go get the empty 45 gallon steel drum, some hose, and connections for it. Then he would rig up the power take off to enable him to run the barrel when it was full of water.

Lastly, he would fill up the barrel with water, attach the hoses, and try out the water gun to make sure it worked as it was supposed to. He always had some buckets of water available too which contained burlap sacks, if for some reason he couldn’t use the water gun.

The day he chose to burn was a day when there was some wind blowing to blow away the smoke, but not too much wind, for his goal was to burn the ditch and not the orchard. Wally’s reason for burning the ditch was because smokers just threw their butts out the car window. When the cigarette hit dry grass it would usually start a fire, which would get into the orchard and cause great problems that Wally would have to pay for.

Wally found this out the hard way when he smoked, and failed to properly dispose of a butt in the dry orchard grass one spring.

When I was old enough to be useful in helping to control the fire, I joined in and  watched as the flames progressed through the grass. It was always great fun for me! Wally showed me how to control a grass fire by using the back of the shovel or by just throwing dirt on the flames with the shovel.

I also drove the tractor and kept ahead of the flames. When lunch time came, the fire was put completely out and we returned to restart it after we had eaten.

The whole procedure took the better part of a day. It wasn’t very long before the ditch grass came up nice and green making it a perfect fire free zone.

Recently, I received an update on one of the dogs Wally and Auntie Kay owned. This was the dog, a beagle, named Buster. He came to us from an in-law who didn’t want him.

Wally and Auntie Kay only had two daughters at the time, so it was a few years before I and my nearest sibling came along.

Shortly after arriving at the house, the youngest girl who was three years old, gave Buster cause to bite her, drawing blood in the process. Auntie Kay blew a fuse! She demanded that the dog be shot!

Wally and a friend took Buster up into the hills to shoot him but reneged when they realized they only had one bullet and didn’t want to take a chance on only wounding him. At least that was the way the story went.

The two men returned from their mountain hike with rifle, bullet, and dog, much to Auntie Kay’s dismay. Somewhere in the story, Buster received a beating for his misdeed. He didn’t ever bite another child though, and the one he bit was not even afraid of him after that.

Buster was a great mouser! He would bark when he smelled mice. Those opportunistic mice would build nests in the apple boxes. When the boxes were taken apart ( for they were in clusters of three ), Buster was there, waiting to pounce.

He would dive in and come up with two mice in his mouth and one under his paw. Mice weren’t his only catch, he was death on snakes and any cat which happened to be prowling around.
Buster was very faithful to Wally. Sometimes Wally would go into the orchard without him, when Buster realized this he would put his nose on the ground and search for his master.

One time Buster found Wally’s hat on the ground, that was where he stayed until Wally came to retrieve it. There is even a photo of him lying next to the hat.

Buster didn’t like to be left at home. Sometimes he would follow the car down the lane but he was always at the house when the family returned. The day came though, when the family returned home and Buster was gone. They didn’t see him again.

That was a sad end, but there always seemed to be another pet just around the corner. For some reason, people felt that a city dog or cat would get along great on a farm. All that open space to roam in, ah freedom! Many perils too though, skunks and porcupines led the list.

Those tales are for telling at another time, and you’ve heard some of them already.

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