Rituals are formed easily on repeat vacations like this. Our Maine trips quickly fall into patterns that have become comfortable and anticipated. For instance, it would be practically unthinkable to us to travel all the way to Patten, Maine and not make a trip to Mr. and Mrs. Kinney’s pig farm. It is just one of those things that you do. But while we Perkinses have made this pilgrimage numerous times, the Tanakas would be experiencing the trek in all its piggy glory for the first time. That promised to keep things interesting!
The kids tend to break the day sooner than the adults on these occasions. In the wee hours L, N and K were already out in the backyard and somehow had managed to acquire another instant friend out of nowhere as only kids seem to be able to do. I took all four on a brisk morning shake-down run to the park a block down the road before tackling the more pressing porcine events of the day.
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| L bites the dust, and lots of it. |
Once the day was ripe enough, we loaded the car with showered and sweet-smelling children and headed to the Kinney’s farm. (On our trip back home, I assure you, it would be the children who were ripe enough and the car would be anything but sweet-smelling.) Charlie Kinney was crossing the lawn from the barns when we pulled up and he waved us over. If the Kinneys have ever grown tired or resentful of our repeated use of their farm as a must-see Maine tourist attraction, they have never let on. They are always kind and warm and make great efforts to make us feel welcome.
They had a young calf who had been rejected by her mom, Mr. Kinney told us, and he was just about to go to the north fields to feed her by hand. If we wanted to, we could come along. And he could probably use some help feeding her, he said, looking to the girls with a twinkle in his eye. There were a few very quick volunteers. So the pigs would have to wait – cows were the first on the agenda. (But it only took a slight shifting of the breeze to assure us the pigs were all there and not going anywhere.)
The kids all piled in to Charlie’s mini-tractor for a ride up the fields that, for pure joy and excitement, ranked up there with anything Disney has to offer. Stacy, Hiroko and I trudged up the road behind on foot. We soon found Charlie and the kids surrounded by a clump of curious cows, being kept in tight quarters by an exuberant sheep dog brimming with doggie
joie de vivre. I felt a little like I’d been whisked into a James Herriot novel.
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| "I love my job! I love my job!" |
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| The cow whisperer |
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| Psst, N! I think the one on the right is mad doggin' you! |
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| So, kids, ya say ya like steak, so ya? |
Once the baby was fed, Charlie beckoned the kids back into the tractor. We’ll feed the rest of the lot now, he said. He drove to another corner of the field where he got out and produced from somewhere a big sack of hamburger buns. He bought all the local grocery store’s unsold bread for cattle feed. Magically, the cows all the way across the field where we’d left them, detected lunch on the opposite side of the world and made a mini-stampede across the field. (A little less James Herriot now, and more Louis L'Amour.) We spent the next half-hour or so feeding cows hamburger buns, the irony of which was evident even to the kids.
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A majestic summer storm sweeps down from Canada.
It slid over Patten 5 miles to the north, but we didn't get a drop. |
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| "Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese,.. " |
But soon the previews were over and we moved on to our feature presentation – the pigs. For Hiroko and K it was a rather quick experience, as they couldn’t quite handle the… ahem, aroma. (Newbies!) There were no brand new piglets this time, but we still got to see plenty of porkers, and L and N were able to practice their husbandry skills with pig feed as well.
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| Hey, sweetheart. Can I buy you a drink? |
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| They shed the cute fast. |
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That heart-warming moment when you suddenly realize
you've met a kindred-spirit without having said a word. |
Back at Mimi’s we deluged ourselves with very hot showers and a whole lot of soap. Then it was time to add yet another animal to our check-off list. Moose hunting! We piled back into the car, which unfortunately we couldn’t give a hot shower, and headed off to our traditional native hunting grounds, the road into Baxter State park. On the way we trained Hiroko and K in the fine art of the moose call, guaranteed (except for today) to draw any moose within 50 miles. “Muh-muh-muh-moooooo-sie!” They became quite adept. Soon he kids were screaming it into the forest as we drove with all the windows down (so the moose could hear it better, and for, well, …ahem, aromatic reasons.)
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| Mean Tiger-Mom Hiroko makes poor K do homework before moose-hunting! |
But our patented technique failed us. No forest cows were to be seen despite hitting several of our key stalking grounds. (Come to think of it, we’ve
never seen a moose at any of these coveted spots, but what are statistics except killjoys.) Nevertheless we followed our traditional route and ended up on the shores of Grand Lake Matagamon. There’s a boat launch that we always play skip-the-rocks at. We are about as successful each year at skipping rocks as we are at seeing moose, but we try not to take that into account. On the way home we drowned our moose-less disappointments in large servings of ice cream from the last holdout of civilization – a surprisingly well-stocked camp just before entering the park. Then it was home and a rest before the day’s grand finale – fireworks!
One night during the week of Patten Pioneer Days is dedicated to fireworks at Shin Pond. For some reason I have never gone, but Mimi, Stacy and the kids have long incorporated it into their routine. I guess I secretly expected a small town show to be less than thrilling. And Shin Pond doesn’t even qualify as a small town. But this year I decided to swallow the pessimism and come a long. Uncle Mike was up now from Bangor, so we had a pretty decent crew assembled for the event. We took separate cars, Stacy, Hiroko, the kids and I in the pig-mobile, and Mike and Mimi in Mimi’s car. I’d forgotten just how dark it can get in the middle of the North Maine woods, even in a small outpost of a “town”. We both evidently found the hillside field where the show was to be held, but we never found each other, so we had to compare fireworks notes with Mimi and Mike after the fact. And it turned out to be a quite a show after all.
Shin Pond is nestled in a slight basin surrounded by woods. In various directions the last vestiges of the Appalachians throw up small hills and mounts. As a result, when the fireworks go off the explosions ricochet back and forth across the valley like thunder trying to find a way out. I can only imagine what all the antisocial moosies must think.
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Oh Mr. Moon, we've lost our Mimi.
Can you help us find her? |
The show was large and impressive and our spot on the hillside afforded us a fine view. By the end, however, it was a tired troop that headed back to the car for the 10-mile drive back to Patten and our sweet-smelling pig pens.
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| Bedtime. |
