“Everyone knows how hard it is to come out of Crow Lane after dropping their leaves off. It’s surprising on that corner no one has been killed — let alone driving cows back and forth.
“We eventually sold the herd in 1963.
“I then started with one, and slowly with my brother, we built a small herd up again ... taking the cows out to Crow Lane pasture.
“Because of the remote area and the wildlife out there, we had to make sure our herd was in the barn before fall because they looked too much like deer.
“We joined the Whittier 4-H Club and showed our pride and joys.
“But again, we grew up. Times change, and I got married in 1970. The barn was torn down for fear of someone torching it, and the last animal on the farm was in 1971.
“One of my fondest memories is of going out to the pastures to retrieve an Angus heifer of ours.
“Several stayed out there all summer, she being one.
“Well, I found her calf and now it was more of a pet than a cow.
“Her name was ‘Wabbit’ — named by my dad as she was so tiny when she was born. She was more of a pet than a cow. Well, I found her calf and, if born in the wild, they are feisty. I had to get them home, but how?
“I used to ride Wabbit, so I got her calf up onto her back and led them both home.
“Another time, Bill caught a picture of my brother and me in the back of my parents’ station wagon with a calf in our lap and the mother tagging behind, coming back from pasture.
“There was our hut that kids had built where we played cowboys/cowgirls and Indians.