Miss Margie - 1932 Stephens College
Mother’s Day. It got me reflecting a bit on Mother’s Days past. Mother’s Day with my mom and my mom in general. If there’s one thing she did it was to teach me about her love of animals. As a child I listened to stories of her own youth and the animals who were a part of her world. Her grandfather had Mammoth Jack donkeys and mules. Her grandmother raised pigs. And cows were a part of daily life when her grandmother and father operated a dairy for years and years. And of her beloved stallions she rode with pride.
Miss Margie...back at Stephens College 65 years later...Age 92
I was told as a child in the Colorado mountains…”don’t go anywhere your dog won’t go” – Well, that opened new horizons. The dog was as much of an explorer as I was and I trekked many a mile first with dog in tow and later a pony. I watched many an animal in those Colorado hills. From chipmunks to deer to Mtn Lions and everything in between. I love bears.
I talked to them, I listened to them, and I watched as animal mothers cared for their own. Most moms are the same. They will protect you from being eaten, but then little by little they nudge and urge to fall off the cliff all on your own. Coyote moms and bear moms are like that. They will fight to the death to protect their young and then watch them tumble down a mountain head over heels landing like a lump down below.
My playground as a child. It all started here. And lives in my heart forever.
Such was my mom. A wild coyote of sorts herself.
And normal to me was always having some animal in the house that wasn’t consider a house pet by the civilized folks who lived in the towns below my mountaintop Utopia.
Baby chickens in the house. Rabbits in the house and I thought it particularly cool when I taught my pony to climb the porch steps and open the screen door and come on inside. And then of course, there was the assortment of frogs, lizards and baby whatevers that I brought home. Mom never complained. Well, one time when there was a bucket full of tadpoles in the sink that came from the gravel pits full of water by our house…but she was ok with it..just not in the kitchen sink.
When I was 17, the wild coyote known as my mother left home..she and my Dad decided to follow the sun in their motorhome. For the next 30 years they did that. Roaming. But one Mother’s Day in 1972 they came back through Colorado. I had been somewhere and in my treks came across these cute little Hampshire piglets. I thought how cool it would be to get my mom one for Mother’s Day. So I loaded said piglet in my truck and took it home. I didn’t have a fenced yard and was living in town so I got a cinder block and and harness and tied the piglet to the cinder block. Next thing I knew the neighborhood was in a uproar because I had a piglet in my yard. What the hell was wrong with these city folks? Damnit, this is my moms Mother’s Day present. Of course, mom being mom was a couple of days late coming but when she did she loved that little 10 pounds of black and white oink. She and Dad still had a motel in Estes Park to run in the summers, so off she went with Porky in tow and he became the star of the resort. Guests feeding him and having photo ops with him. By fall I had moved to a farm and kept Porky through the winter until Mom came for him the next summer and he could resume his job as entertainer and professional eater.
He kept his job for 3 years but then just got too big to transport…1500 pounds of pig is alot of pig…so Porky lived out his days with me. But there isn’t a Mother’s Day that goes by that I don’t think of Mom with her pig…and all the other animals that have come into my life as a result of being raised by a coyote.
Now…all these years later…and the last almost 28 of them being a mother myself, I think about the animals that were a part of my sons life. Again, a chicken or two in the house, flying squirrels dive bombing into dishwater, and being presented on a Mother’s Day a newborn fawn…so now, raising a baby deer and having a grown deer sharing snacks with my son and jumping over furniture like some kind of Disney Olympics. And of course, let’s not forget 50 potbellied pigs that came to live their lives here. When my son exited the school bus he never knew what might be lurking in the yard..or in the house.
Jake...A Mother's Day past
Jake all grown up
And not much has changed. I still have this weird rapport with animals. I like their honesty. I like their antics. I like their loving souls. I learn from them still. I respect them always. I gently cuddled a baby bird and been hugged by a big bear that stroked my hair with his claws. I’ve learned trust. I’ve learned love. I see the wonders of nature daily and am grateful I can be a part of this wondrous gift.
This is the first Mother’s Day without mom, but her spirit lives on in each and every animal that comes into my life. From the butterfly that gently sat on my sons hand the other day with what he called a message to just now the deer that came to visit in the backyard. She has a baby in the woods by the house. She is vigilant yet trusting. The essence of a mother.
I am always grateful for my mom and for being a mother myself. And I am grateful that I share my life with another mother. A mother who shares my love of animals. A mother who shares her own son as my own. A mother who loves my son like her own. A mother and a woman who understands love and loves. A woman with whom I can share smiles and joy watching the animals. I am blessed.
Q with Harry and Lloyd
Life comes full circle..or maybe it’s just a continuum. I live on a mountaintop with animals. Dogs, pigs, and two mammoth Jack donkeys who suck up to the guests who stay in our tourist lodging. Koi and goldfish live happily in the ponds and deer, rabbits are always near by and visit daily. And I hear the coyotes at night. Singing their songs. Protecting their young. Teaching the ways of the world. Exploring. Loving. Mothers extraordinaire.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom and Thank you for best gift of all. Animals in all forms…the greatest teachers of all. And to you…my tree of life!
Miss Margie - Wandering and Wading - Age 92
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