May1996Newsletter

May 1996 Michigan Land Trustees Newsletter

A Report on the Second Luddite Congress

    In mid April, Barbara and Maynard went to eastern Ohio to attend the Second Luddite Congress. It was called to gether by Scott Savage, editor of PLAIN magazine and director of the Center for Plain Living. Scott is a Conservative Quaker with a close relationship to Amish Mennonites in Ohio. PLAIN projects itself as "The magazine of Life, Land and Spirit," and its articles focus on simple, low-tech, mostly rural living and spiritual values. Although PLAIN is not explicitly Christian, it reflects this cultural ethos. The Congress, however, was addressed by several more secular minds and those who attended (about 350) came from 32 states and brought with them a diversity of spiritual and religious backrounds.

    The first Luddite Congress met in April of 1812 as working people in England, mostly weavers, rebelled against the ravages of the factory system at that early stage of the Industrial Revolution. That Luddite uprising was described by the keynote speaker, Kirpatrick Sale, who published the most recent book on the Luddites, Rebels Against the Future, in 1995. One thing we can learn from those ealy Luddites, Sale pointed out, is a criterion for the evaluation of technology. The Luddites then, like the Amish today, do not reject all technology but rather that which is "hurtful to commonality" or destructive of community. We can also learn from the original Luddites that a direct and violent reaction against the factory system is not likely to succeed since the power of the government defends the factory system and economic growth. But non-violent resistance to hurtful technology is necessary, said Sale, and should come from people in communities who affirm and practice a more simple way of life without television and computer tecnology. The important word here is community. Many media people at the congress were interested in Luddism because the alleged Unabomber, certainly a loner, had been called Luddite. But in fact, a low tech lifestyle such as the Amish enjoy is possible only through community discipline and support. Those who attended the Second Luddite Congress were unanimous in their commitment to nonviolence. Delegates were asked to search their hearts for appropriate action within the spirit of that basic Quaker and Amish belief. This nonviolent position is shared by other peace churches and Ghandian- based social movements.

    Other speakers, such as organic farmer and author Gene Logsdon, and Amish farmer and author David Kline, also emphasized "community" and the informal economic arrangements of mutual aid which make their way of life possible. They spoke directly to the many people at the gathering who had gone back to the land and the many more who said they would like to do so. John Gatto, the vociferous critic of public schools, similarly spoke for the many home schoolers at the Congress. Still other speakers included environmental writers Stephanie Mills and Bill McKibben, midwife activist Judy Luce, urban planner Charles Siegel, publisher Bill Henderson whose anthology, Minutes of the Lead Pencil Club, is soon to be published, and Cliff Stoll, a computer whiz who wrote Silicon Snake Oil, a book which questions some of our uses of computers--particularly in schools and libraries.

     These and a few other speakers provide ideas and perspectives during the first two days of the Congress for the development of a "Statement of Means" on the third day. A preliminary version of the statement was based on what the speakers said. Those who attended the Congress, the self-selected delegates, were invited to make amendments to the statement. This was the least successful phase of the Congress. The organizers encouraged delegates to speak from the heart after quiet reflection--as at a Quaker Meeting--and some did. But others spoke more impatiently from the head and worried that there was no voting on proposed amendments. And so, some delegates who had earlier been cheerful, well-disposed, polite and respectful of diversity now became impatient and aggressive in making points they felt must be included. After a short break, an explanation of Quaker process by a member of the local meeting, and some cajoling by organizer Scott Savage, the delegates finished the process more harmoniously.

     For a awhile during the Second Luddite Congress the feeling was strong that we were the vanguard of a deep cultural re-evaluation of the role of technology. Naturally, this feeling began to dissipate somehat on the way home, but there is evidence that many people seeking to simplify their lives are questioning technology. New seeds were planted which will grow around the country as delegates work within their own communities to continue the process begun at the Second Luddite Congress.

Barbara Geisler and Maynard Kaufman

It was a particularly long and grueling winter. There wasn't much sun and that's not unusual. There wasn't much snow either. Yet, there were record snow falls to the north and south. The children's sleds were scattered over dead grass while the cross country skis sat out the season leaning up against the house. The lack of winter precipitation has dried up our pond. Hopefully, migrating water fowl have found other accommodations.

It was cold dry and gray from November through February. I read a lot--mostly essays, grim 20th Century short stories and a few novels. I also attended to the children while working part-time as a cog in the health care behemoth. Apart from the weather, it wasn't a bad winter.

March and April were generally bleak. There were a few days when the sun came out and it was warm. Then the rains came and it was cold and wet but not wet enough to refill the pond.

Ten days into April I was desperate. I dragged the roto tiller out of the barn and it fired up after a squirt of dry gas and only two tugs on the starter; a good omen. I stuffed some cotton in my ears and tilled for a couple of hours. After that, my seven year old and I planted onion sets, beans and sugar snaps. We had a nice time. A thunderstorm was approaching and it was good to have something planted just before the rain. Later, the temperture dropped and it actually snowed but the onion sets are still green and the peas are comming up. If they freeze, I'll simply replant.

Planting is real important this year. I turned 42, and feel and urgency beyond the one or two trips to the toilet in the middle of the night. Life is short; and some things take too long to grow. When I recently told someone that I had planted some American chestnuts, they chuckled and reminded me that it takes a hundred years before one can sit "under the spreading chestnut tree..." Damn. I still plant trees and while the return on fruits and vegetables isn't quite instant gratification, it's close enough. But when you plant a hardwood, you'll be dead before it matures. So, with a sense of decay and impending doom that is middle age, I am reminded of a valuable lesson from my youth.

I was 12 or 13 years old and had just started a paper route. I didn't like the work but it was a means to an end and that was the blond Fender Telecaster that hung on the wall of the local music store. I wanted that guitar. I had been taking lessons for a couple of years and had an old beat up instrument that was uninspiring. But with a Telecaster in my hands I would play thick, soulful grooves like Steve Cropper and Creedence. I would start a band and attract girls. For $214.00 including case, life would be beautiful.

I managed to save $175, and my parents kindly lent me another $50 that I paid back. It came with an orange crushed velvet-lined hard-shelled case with a lock and key and that alone cost $50 but Uncle Al at the music store cut me some slack and agreed to take my old guitar in trade. When I got it home, sometimes I would just stare at it and not even play. For a while, it was my golden road through puberty, and when I was carrying around my guitar and wearing my only pair of blue bell bottoms, I was cool.

Unfortunately, it was still hard to talk to girls, and it took another 20 years before I could approximate the rock and roll that I loved back then. Eventually, I swapped the Telecaster for an acoustic flattop when I thought I might become a brooding folk singer. Since then, I've bought and sold a lot of guitars. None of them had that little spark of magic or possibility that the Telecaster had when it came down off the wall of Uncle Al's music shop and into my hands. The quitessential purchase of my life was over and done in 1967. Nothing since--a Visa gold card notwithstanding--has ever produced the same gratification. Nothing. That's good to know.

In the context of all the real important things that have graced my life--Lisa and the boys; the family dog; a couple of UFO sightings, long gone Ed Alexander's stories of his haunted house, sitting at my grandmother's dining room talble before a standing rib roast with Yorkshire pudding, et al.--buying a electric guitar with paper route money doesn't mean much. The important stuff can't be bought. It's too bad in a way. I think that we think that the stuff we buy should do a lot more for us than it actually can. As consumer lemmings, we sink so much time and energy into our purchase. It's as if the cradle of civilization was nestled amongs the strip malls and commerce along South Westnedge. In reality, there is nothing as splendid as an apple blossom, or a tall tale from a small child, or a first kiss.

As I looked at my students in my Environmental and Health Problems class, where, among other things, we talked about energy wastefulness and energy waste of developed countries, it occurred to me that my students just can't imagine life without the "conveniences" available to us in the 1990's. All of a sudden I remembered that I once lived in a time and place where much less energy was used and while we were not living in a state of permenent bliss, neither did we live in a state of physical and mental deprivation. In the meantime, we were probably a lot closer to sustainable agricultural land use than we are in the farm belt of the US and other developed countries with a significant agricultural presence. So how was life on Hungarian family farm in the late 1940's?

Public education: An eighth grade education became compulsory in this time replacing a sixth grade general education during the previous hundred years. Most Hungarians could read and write, although many farm children were taken out of school early and could barely read and write. However, owners or purchsers of family farms, like my parents, could read, write and use simple arithmetic quite well. Children would walk up to four miles to get to school.

Public Health: Services were remarkably good. All children were immunized against infectious disease for which immunizations were available then. When a child entered compulsory first grade, they had to provide their "ujraoltasi bizonyitvany," or immunization certificate. Babies(including this writer) were delivered at home by a trained midwife. Advise about children and women's health was provided by little health centers out in the sticks staffed by a mid-wife and a nurse. Poor families who provided farm labor usually did not own a cow (although many had a goat or two). Children of these families were given free milk coupons by the public health service redeemable at nearby farms.

The role of flies in spreading disease was well recognized. It was shown by big cartoons posted in public places how a fly can carry disease--causing bacteria from the manure pile or pit toilet to food or body. Similarly, cartoons have shown how contamination may seep into shallow wells.

There was a hospital in the nearest town (Kishunhalas) ten miles away, or about two and a half hours by horse-drawn wagon. In life-threatening emergencies, a gasoline powered ambulance was available which could be contacted by phone from the nearest railroad station or post office. When a hand-cranked hay chopper caught my middle finger when I was five years old (it was not caught by the blade but by a couple of cogs), it took about two hours to get me to the hospital. My finger was temporarily dressed with a clean cotton cloth. The operation was successful, but I am still short one digit. People were well-educated about infections.

Transportation: Steam powered railroads reached all cities and larger villages. Main roads were so called "McAdam" hard-surfaced roads. Limited bus service was available. Farm families had to walk up to six miles to get public transportation. Many farms were three to five miles away from hard-surfaced roads. Farmers along our road formed an association to maintain the dirt road leading to the nearest hard surface road. Wagons and light carts had steel rimmed wheels. To prevent deep ruts, straw or discarded plant material was applied to the dirt road.

The Family farm as an economic and social unit: A medium-sized farm along our road was 75 acres. There was no electricity or running water, or any kind of power-driven implement or vehicle. Everything was powered by humans or horses.

The family lived in a well built old farm house )perhaps a hundred years old then). The parents and six children shared two bedrooms while the maid slept in the kitchen. There was a room-sized (perhaps 400 square feet) off the kitchen, where canned goods, smoked hams, sausage, flour, kerosene, and everything that would be needed by a large household were stored. In a less well built addition to the big house was a long building that held a wine cellar, summer kitchen with a large wood heated oven (kemence), granary (magtar), and chicken coop at the end. A pit toilet was located adjacent to the main house. The toilet was covered to keep out flies. Chopped straw was added to the excrement. The compost was removed yearly and used to fertilize corn and cereals.

Only one bedroom was heated by a nice cast iron stove with wood or corn cobs. The three older boys (yours truly included) slept in an unheated room under generous goose down covers. It was not unusual that water froze in the drinking glass on the night table alongside the bed. The kitchen was heated by a sophisticated, tastefully enameled (with a flower motif or similar decoration) wood burning stove (often corn cobs and chopped twigs were used in place of wood). The stove was used for cooking, small batch baking and for a constant supply of warm water heated in a tank which was part of the stove. Major baking of bread and cakes was done weekly in a large clay oven. This oven was first heated up to a high temperature with dried cornstalks (which the cattle did not eat) or from dry grape stems or twigs. Then the oven was loaded and the contents baked.

There were sufficient stable and corrals for two horses, three to four milk cows, six to eight other cattle (mostly juveniles), and ten to thirty pigs of various ages. During the October through March winter months, all the animals were kept inside stables so they "would not catch cold". All the animals except the pigs were tied with a rope to their respective mangers. The horses were fed hay and the cowhand other cattle were fed corn stalks, wheat and oat straw. The dairy cows also got alfalfa hay. Rye straw was used for bedding. In addition to hay, the horses were also fed chopped oat straw mixed with chopped beets or pumpkins and laced with ground corn and some oats. The horses worked all year round and needed to be fed well. We always had a coach man (usually an unmarried man in his late teens or early twenties). They kept the stable immaculate and they actually slept in a corner of the stable on a bed suspended from the ceiling. By lodging in the stable, they could be aware if anything unusual happened or if there was a cow ready to deliver.

The pigs were in a separate stable of their own. They received fresh bedding weekly. Pigs are actually quite clean and friendly if they are given plenty of straw for bedding and slop and other feed. Usually they chose one corner of the stable to defecate. About five hogs were fattened up to 400-500 lb.; three for the household and two for market. Pit manure was considered the most valuable (horse manure the least) and was used to put in the garden to grow vegetables and melons. We had the best water melons one can imagine. Some of them reached 60 pounds! There were approximately 150 chickens that foraged, 15 geese, and ten ducks. Ducks and geese were force fed for pate; most of them were sold. There were two or three sheep for wool and meat, again in their own shed. I mention all this manure thing because manure was highly valued, carefully stored (to prevent drying), and then spread on the fields. There was no synthetic fertilizer. My maternal grandfather used to say that using synthetic fertilizer is like applying the whip to the horse in place of oats. I thought my grandfather was real backward (maradi). He was more right than he knew. May he rest in peace.

Crops grown and other products: Wheat four acres (all of it for flour for the farm), rye 15 acres (half for cash crop), alfalfa five acres, beets one acre for feed, barley for feed three acres, corn 13 acres with beans planted along the rows ( for food, hog fattening and as cash crop), potatoes two acres, sunflowers for oil and sale three acres, sugar beets for sale one acre, vegetable garden one acre, pasture for grazing five acres, hay five acres, grapes ten acres, orchard two acres, forest, swamp and roads five acres.

Farming methods: Only manure was used. Crop rotation was practiced. The soil improving quality of alfalfa was greatly appreciated. Wheat or rye followed corn. Corn followed beets, alfalfa or cereals. My father insisted upon never leaving the soil surface open without some kind of plant cover or stubble. After spring plowing and before planting slow starting crops such as beets, or even corn, we spread straw very thinly and worked it into the soil. It was simply embarassing for a farmer to see their soil carried by the wind. It was both a matter of pride and good conservation of precious water (drought was often a problem) to chop down every single weed in row crops. A horse drawn cultivator was used to keep the weeds down between the rows and we hoed the rows at least three times a season by hand.

The most labor intensive part of the farm was the ten acres of vineyard and two acres of orchard. During early spring, the orchard was scrubbed clean of dead bark to reveal insect eggs, grubs, and pupa. During the winter, the trees were sprayed with a sulfur mix. However, no spraying was done during growing season (apricots, plums, pears, apples, and tart cherries were grown). The grapes were trimmed in spring. During the season the grapes were cultivated between the narrow rows with a horse drawn cultivator and hoed by hand. There were no weeds. The grapes were sprayed four or five times during the growing season with Bordeaux mix ( a mixture of copper sulfate and lime with a hand pump sprayer carried on the back of the worker. Grapes were picked by hand. Most of them were processed into wine. Only human powered grinders and presses were used. The wine press had a quite sophisticated gear mechanism so plenty of pressure could be produced by moving the handle over greater distances. Some grapes were laid out in the attic and could be eaten through January.

For planting new grapes, the soil was turned over with a spade about three feet deep. This kept seasonal workers occupied through the late fall and early spring. The workers doing the spading collected the grubs and at the end of the day exchanged 100 grubs for a liter of wine. If grubs were missed they chewed on the roots of the young grapes. Because of this ingenious reward system, not too many grubs were missed.

People occupied and employed on the farm: Father, Mother, one maid (szolgalo; helped mother with six children under age 14, cooked, cleaned, butchered poultry), one coachman (kocsis), four different men and women helped with grapes and hoeing crops six months of the year, children helped and watched livestock (fences were not used--to expensive). A seasonal crew of six workers came to harvest cereals by scythe and sickle for three weeks. They entered into a harvest contract (aratasi szerzodes) and received from one-seventh to one-ninth of the harvest in grain. A thrashing machine crew of 18 came for about three days. (The thrashing machine was pulled from farm to farm and powered by a tractor.) Thus approximately the equivalent of seven people were employed on the farm (tanya) year round.

Food: Other than sugar, salt, spices and preservatives, all food was grown on the farm. All people who worked on the farm were fed on the farm. Approximately three large hogs were butchered for salted or smoked back fat, sausage, ham and fresh and smoked meat. Wheat and rye were milled for flour (off the farm) and all breads and cakes were baked at the house. Poultry was important source of meat year round, but especially when fresh hog meat was not available. (Hog butchering took place late fall and winter while the weather was cold since there was no refrigeration and preservation by ice from frozen ponds was not practiced.) All vegetables and fruits were canned on the farm. Apples, plums apriccots and pears were sun dried to be cooked in winter.

Cash crops and livestock: Approximately 1500 gallons of wine (the most valuable source of income), half of the harvested cereals, corn sunflower, and potatoes; yearling cattle and young pigs, two fattened hogs, half the produce from the garden; and milk, butter eggs, poultry, and some of the fruits were sold in the nearest town ten miles away.

Cash outlays: Cash was needed for wages for all workers. Then there was the purchase and maintenance of farm implements (wagons, plows, sowing machine, copper sulfate for spraying, horse-drawn cultivator, hoes scythes, shod horses, corn sheller et al.) Money was also needed to clothe family, maid and stockman; train tickets, medical and veterinarian expenses, presents, church donations, and mortgage payments on 15 acres of land which my parents bought adjacent to the farm.

Overall impression: Farming in this area went back to about 150 years. (Prior to this the region was mostly grassland, forests, and swamps.) It was very likely that the farming methods used provided sustainability. Air and water pollution were minimal. Nothing was dumped in land fills except broken glass and pottery. People tended to work long hours from April to October.

Epilogue: At the end of World War II, Hungary was occupied by the Soviet Union, but allowed to remain a state. In the 1945 election, the Communist Party received about 12% of the popular vote, with the Small Holders Party as the ruling coalition. By 1949, the Communist Party, with the Red Army's support, grabbed more and more power by illegal means. (For example, non-communist political leaders were kidnapped right from the corridors of parliament. Some of these leaders died in Siberian exile while others returned ten to fifteen years later sick and broken only to be persecuted once more by the Kadar regime.) Their purpose was to eliminate private property. They nationalized industry by 1950 and went after the farms like ours at the same time. The farmers were required to turn in enormous amounts of cereals, livestock and milk, wine, hay, and pay very high taxes. Farmers were picked up by the security forces and many were never to be seen again. In September, 1951, my parents were relieved when they were told to leave the farm in 48 hours without any compensation. They moved into a run-down old shack of a house a few miles away with an acre of land. Our farm became part of a collective where they used "modern" methods, such as tractors. The owners of the farm were not allowed to join the collective farms because they were considered to be enemy kulaks. The vineyard and orchard were ruined within a season. The row crops could not be seen from the weeds By 1953, Hungary, which till 1950 was a food exporter, was struggling with food shortages.

The 1970's, the Hungarian collective farms were nearly as mechanized and chemicalized as their Eastern and Western counterparts and eventually did produce sufficient amounts of food and fiber to export to the Soviet Union in exchange for raw materials, cars, and energy.

In 1980, my wife, a brother, and two of our small children walked by the house where both my brother and I were born and where we lived as children. The house was now owned by the collective farm and was inhabited by a couple who worked on the collective farm. The building adjacent to the main house was now just a pile of dirt. One of the two barns was gone as well as the nice corn bin. Many of the beautiful old fashioned roof tiles were missing from the main house and one side of the roof was ready to cave in. The roof leak was hastily repaired with plastic sheets to prevent soaking through the ceiling. Where meticulously cared for fruit trees used to stand trash was strewn around. The couple knew who we were and the were kind to invite us inside. We thanked them but declined the invitation. We were sorry to see the oldest and best built farmhouse from miles around go down the drain. What used to be our farm was now half-planted in corn monoculture and the other half was planted over with cotton trees for pulp (including the area where our spotless vineyard used to be.)

In 1989, the communists gave up power. The democratically elected government attempted to compensate farmers for the lands they lost the best it could. The compensation was more of a moral satisfaction than financial gain.

Fifteen years later, in 1995, I drove by the old farm house expecting to see a bigger pile of dirt. To my delight, what I saw instead was a tastefully renovated old farm house. The roof was straightened out and the missing tiles replaced with matching ones. There was a nice wood fence around to keep out livestock and deer. In my heart, I thanked that wonderful person or persons who saved the house where my family once lived and I was born. And there was one more surprise: electricity!

Rituals around the butchering of animals has never been a need for me, but I do remember when my son, Nick, was small and had a chameleon die. Georgia thought he was too young to deal with the death of a pet so she flushed it down the toilet and got him a new one. We went through seven chameleons before Georgia was ready to accept that death was inevitable and Nick would have to experience his first funeral So, in the meadow on the south end of Southern Methodist University there is a matchbox. There, twelve little urchins stood around and sang songs and prayed prayers while Georgia played "Kum Ba Yah" on the guitar.

In my childhood, the annual butchering day usually included processing six or more hogs, two steers, and numerous fowl. The men stood around open kettles of hot water scraping hair or pulling feathers after the animal was dunked (baptized?) and scalded. The women were always in the house cooking chitlins and canning meat and preparing meat for the smokehouse, and always, but always, preparing spare ribs for eating the very day. Four or five families would arrive early and stay late. Someone was the designated shooter and should there be an animal that refused to succumb to the .22 bullet, then someone else would bludgeon it to death with a sledge hammer. Also, the weather was usually freezing outside, so the meat could hang for
several hours if necessary.

There was an abundance of whiskey, and tobacco for chewing and smoking. My first experience with tobacco took place when I was eleven years old and on butchering day. The men told me that the plug was a form of chocolate and that I should try it because it was so good. Well, I tried it. I swallowed and proceeded to turn as green as goose shit. Come to think of it, the tobacco tasted that way also I never stuck the stuff in my mouth again.

I learned a lot about birth and death in my childhood (It was probably good training for the ministry.) Animals butchered become the digested remains of the human body. Could it be that humans become the digested remains of the earth? But then, we have to deal not with dualism but with the trinity of all trinities: body, soul, and mind. Notice that I didn't say dualism only.

On the human level, body, mind, and soul (or spirit or heart) come together for me within four people called family. And—by extension—all those people who are called community. We are all family.

I am left to wonder, how do I fit in? Meanwhile, I attend to my family; and I answer to my heart. Sometimes, my heart and mind are not in agreement.

We've lived on our four acre "farm" some three years now and I think I'm beginning to learn not to expect too much from this rich flood plain. We're settled on old celery flat land just north of Kalamazoo. The soil is rich and black. Although very acidic, plants do love to grow in it—especially burdock, prickly lettuce, stinging nettle, and amaranth.

The climate here is in a world of its own, seemingly unconnected to the weather of the greater area surrounding us. The temperatures are a good five degrees cooler than downtown—a mere one and a half miles away Hence, our growing season is defined by late May and early September freezes. It's a short season. Against these odds, I decided to plant an orchard. Its been doing pretty well for the last two years. As yet, we've had no fruit but some of the trees flowered last spring. Much to my dismay, the orchard brought another problem to my attention in this seemingly pastoral setting. On taking a walk to the back four to check on my trees, I discovered that two apples and two peaches had been broken off at ground level. A few days before, I saw some local kids playing in a tree house nearby. At the time, I thought nothing of their playing. But I knew that they were responsible. It wasn't a vindictive act or anything, they were defining space around the tree house by piling branches around it. The fruit trees just happened to be convenient brush. I've thought about replanting, but a wise person whispered to me that they will just freeze anyway I suppose so...(sigh).

On the brighter side, the local animal life, sans Homo sapiens, have been making great inroads toward civilizing. I've been watching the squirrels that live in the trees along side our house. Over the past three years, they've been practicing agriculture. Seriously. The first observation that led me to this conclusion was a corn plant growing in my flower garden. I suppose that shouldn't be so surprising except that the vegetable garden is on the other side of the barn away from the flower garden. So, how did the corn get there? The squirrels living in the tree overhanging the flower garden are the obvious answer. This was confirmed by observing the squirrels tree-hopping their way to the vegetable garden, scampering to the nearest felled ear of corn, grasping the ear in their jaws, and madly dashing back to the nearest tree to escape the two cats who have also been monitoring their behavior Having made their way back to their overhanging home, they stash the corn for a mid-winter meal. Throughout this process, a few kernels dropped into the garden below.

Of course, you are asking yourselves, "How can he call that "agriculture?" Simply because the following fall they harvested the corn from the plants growing under their homes A truly labor saving advantage to the dangerous trip to the vegetable garden. However, this was not the end of the story.

After carefully harvesting this year's crop of pumpkins, gourds, and acorn squash, I placed them on the deck to dry a little before moving the squash to storage and using the pumpkins and gourds to decorate for Halloween. Within a week, the gourds were gone. Where? You got it, up into the squirrels' nest. Enthralled by this spectacle, I watched. A week later, almost all of the pumpkins had been gnawed open and their seeds removed. The week after that, the squash were set upon. Where did all those seeds go. Yup. Into the squirrels' nest.

So this is my prediction: next spring there will be a number of squash and corn growing in my flower garden—and not by accident. I'm thinking of planting some dried beans next year so that the squirrels diets will meet USDA minimum daily requirements.