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Register with a social network : Facebook Google. Offline detected You are offline, do you want to try reload the page? She was not eating her feed!

She was also standing very stiff as she watched me come forward to latch the stanchion between her head and shoulders.

I realized she was preparing herself for some kind of punishment for what she had done to me. She turned her head a bit more to the right and her big black sparkling eye met mine.

I could see she was asking for my forgiveness for what she had instigated with the rest of the cows.

With our eyes still meeting, I latched her stanchion. I could then proceed with the milking and I finished all the other chores in time to make the party in town.

Mother nature has always presented farmers with interesting experiences to put in their memory files. I was no exception. This happened on a June evening, sometime in the early Seventies.

I had just bought another tractor. It was a big brother to the one I bought in That was a brand new Massey Ferguson fifty horsepower three point hitch tractor with a mounted three bottom plow.

It also had a cultivator that could be attached to the three point hitch. It was quite an improvement over our previous equipment.

The tractor I had just acquired was also a Massey Ferguson, but it had a sixty five horsepower engine and was considerably larger than the one I bought in the Fifties.

Also, it had a diesel engine instead of a gas one, like our earlier tractors. It was slightly used. It had a cab with a roof over it, a windshield and side curtains with windows for protection from the weather, which was great.

With daylight savings time in effect, the summer daylight hours were long. So, after the cows were milked that evening, I told my father I was going to plow this last little piece of ground down by the creek.

I would have at least two hours of daylight and, besides, this tractor had lights if I needed to work after dark. I drove the tractor down the driveway, heading west across Parker Road, and then followed a path inside the fence from the main highway.

The odor of the burned diesel fuel filled the warm summer evening air as I made my way toward the creek.

The sun was still shining through the tops of the trees lining the creek bank, the rays glancing off the hood of the tractor as I headed west.

When I reached the creek bank I stopped for a few moments to map out in my mind just where I would start plowing this piece of ground.

Once I reached a decision, I turned the tractor towards the east, dropped the plow to the ground, and started plowing.

Even though the ground I was plowing had been very wet just a week ago, the weather we were having had dried the soil to a good plowing consistency.

In just a few minutes I reached the east end of the plot and turned around and headed back to the west bank of the creek.

I took a look back at the plow to be sure it was working right and then looked ahead once more towards the creek bank. There, sitting beside some brush along the bank, I spotted an animal sitting on its haunches, watching me come toward it.

I thought at first that it was a young dog. But, as I drew closer it rose to its feet and disappeared into the brush. I realized then that I was wrong.

It was a fox. Its reddish color and long bushy tail identified it without a doubt in my mind. I figured that would be the last I would see of the fox.

But, I was wrong again. I made three more rounds of plowing and, as I was coming back towards the creek bank the third time around, there he was, once again in plain sight.

A ray of sunshine came through a break in the trees along the creek bank and shone right on him. The bright red color of his fur and long brown bushy tail told me it had to be a male.

I looked out the open back of the cab and could see he was coming out onto the ground I had just plowed. Suddenly he pounced on something, straightened up and sat back on his haunches.

I noticed something dangling from his mouth. It was a large field mouse. With a couple of quick gulps he swallowed it. As I continued to the east end, turned around and headed back again, there sat the fox, watching for me to come by and maybe turn up another mouse.

The tractor and I went right by him again. He sat on his haunches, watching the plow turn up the good earth. I kept watching him as I went by and, sure enough, the plow turned up another mouse nest, and another mouse ran out.

He again pounced and ate it quickly. This went on for a number of rounds, with the plow turning up several more mice and he eating them all.

The sun had set behind the trees and it was starting to get dark. During the last couple of rounds, when I turned up another mouse, I watched, astonished, as I saw him kill it and then bury it, like a dog does a bone, saving it for another day.

When I turned back to the east the final time to plow the last strip of ground, I went right by him sitting there, not ten feet away, with his fat tummy protruding from all those mice he had eaten.

I slowed the tractor and waved to him. And I swear to this day, he had a big smile on his face and lifted a grateful paw to wave goodbye.

I remember a day in the early s, shortly after the ribbon cutting ceremony for the opening of the new I expressway.

The ceremony took place on the Parker Road bridge built over the expressway, with then Michigan Governor, G. Mennen Williams, cutting the ribbon.

It was the last of the corn planting season. I had one field left to plow, the one bordered by Parker Road on the west and the new I on the north.

Years before, it used to be a pasture field for our cows and sheep, but by then we were farming it as a crop field. It was a nice day, with some cumulous clouds gathering overhead, but a warm June sun shining through the breaks in the clouds.

I turned into the field at the gateway from Parker Road, near the north line fence by the expressway. The field needed plowing.

We had rain a few days ago, so the soil turned easily for the plow. But, I was not completely content.

It had destroyed my favorite squirrel hunting area. When I reached the east end of the field, near the wood lot, I pulled the lever to raise the plow and turned the tractor to head back west.

I noticed that the clouds overhead were taking on an ominous appearance. They were no longer beautiful, billowing white clouds, but were turning black.

By the time I reached the west end of the field, lightning was arcing back and forth between them. I began debating whether to head for home or stay in the field.

I had a beach size umbrella mounted to the tractor frame, directly behind the seat, mostly to keep the hot sun off me when I was working. I sat there for a few minutes and decided that the clouds would drift by me without too much rain, and the umbrella would provide some protection.

So, I turned the tractor back to the east, lowered the plow, and once again started back to the east end of the field.

The cloud directly overhead began letting down a steady light rain as I worked my way across the field, but the umbrella did a good job keeping the rain from drenching me.

Suddenly, the sun burst forth as the cloud moved eastward, with me and the tractor following under it.

Then an incredible sight met my eyes. The gentle rain, falling ahead of me suddenly burst into all the colors of a gorgeous rainbow, one end of it traveling just ahead of the tractor as we continued eastward, toward the woodlot.

It took several minutes for the tractor to reach the east end of the field and the woodlot. During those minutes, I soaked up the colors of that rainbow as it danced along ahead of the tractor.

When the rainbow reached the woods, the tall trees, laden with fresh new green leaves, seemed to absorb the colors and it suddenly disappeared.

I stopped the tractor, got off, and walked a little way into the woods. A delightful smell of fresh raindrops seemed to come down all around me from the trees overhead.

I inhaled it happily for a few minutes. It was hard to leave, but finally, reluctantly, I turned and started back to my tractor, patiently waiting for me, engine idling, emitting the smell of burned diesel that soon all but erased the wonderful aroma I had just enjoyed in the woods.

I mounted the tractor, lowered the plow, and headed back to the west end of the field. Suddenly, I remembered. What about the pot of gold that people say is at the end of the rainbow?

Where could it be? As the tractor continued across the field I came up with my answer. The pot of gold must have been at the other end of the rainbow!

Or maybe, the pot of gold was my few moments of special beauty, seeing that rainbow and walking in the sweet-scented woods.

For much of my life, the Schairer farm was one of five farms in the square mile formed by four roads between Ann Arbor and Dexter.

Marshall Road runs in an east west direction from Parker Road to Baker road. Baker goes north all the way to Dexter and, south of Marshall Road, comes to a dead end at Jackson Road called Old US 12 in the early days of my life , while Parker Road runs parallel to Baker Road, a mile to the east.

There was, and still is, a small creek, Mill Creek, that meanders diagonally in a northeasterly direction across that area and ends up in the Huron River near the town of Dexter, three miles to the north.

It was also a great creek for swimming. There is a bridge over Mill Creek on Marshall Road.

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