A Day In The Life Of A Dog Patch
Anna and I went over to the neighbors to cut firewood in their pasture. The farmstead is what is called a “dog patch.” Rusted equipment from last spring’s planting, with children’s toys scattered in for good measure, lay about the yard. The hay wagon Dad and I returned 4 weeks ago hasn't moved from the spot just off the driveway. A lame cow dog hobbles around the barn yard, followed by at least a half dozen cats and a couple of guinea fowl. A goat and pot bellied pig wander around a ramshackle pen. The 100 year old barn is painted red and white on the front and gold on the back. While Greg, his 5 year old son, and I were standing over by the barn, kicking the powdery dry ground and talking about hunting, a coyote with beautiful dark red markings loped out of the woods and out into the pasture. It followed the dry crick bed, presumably looking for water, right through the herd of cows, and on into my parents' woods. Although I've heard coyotes in Minnesota, this was the first one I've seen here.