Elizebeth Lawrence Cofell Holding William, her firstborn Child. 1920

There were some other problems upon moving to Montpelier township. Livestock become confused about movement from one farm to another; they don't quite know where they belong. During the winter of 1923-24, some of our young livestock disappeared. Mother and Dad were very concerned about them. for it would have been a very great loss. These animals may have strayed because they were attempting to find their way back to the Sydney farm.

The local newspapers of that era carried quite a few stray animal notices. It may have been an advertisement or someone may have passed the information to Dad that a farmer by the name of Roy Peckham had some animals that had strayed. One morning Dad hitched the horses to the sled and I again had the privilege of riding along. The Peckhams lived about four miles northwest of us. It was a cold day for such a journey. I snuggled down in the hay in the sled covered with a blanket enjoying the experience. It was always good to be taken along as Dad's companion. On our arrival, Dad got out of the sled and was speaking with someone. The stray animals were ours and Dad made arrangements as to when he would come and get them. After the business was settled Dad visited for a while with Mr. Peckham. I stayed comfortable in my nest in the hay.

Fathers always seem to talk a long time when kids are waiting and finally I decided to take a look around and see where we were. I removed the blanket and found myself confronted with the muzzles of three big wolf hounds about eight inches from my face. I suspect they were curious about what was under the blanket probably hoping for a young wolf pup. I don't know what good it did but my reaction was to duck back under the blanket and I remained there since there was no great inclination to visit with those wolf hounds. If those wolf hounds had any intention of aggression, the blanket would not have provided very much protection.

Wolves and coyotes were still frequently seen in the area and when there was predation against livestock, wolf hounds were put to use. If an animal died and was left in the pasture or prairie one would often see a small pack of wolves or coyotes around the carcass. One winter we saw such a pack at a dead horse within about two hundred yards of our house. We children watched with curiosity and dread while safely housed in our living room. Wolf stories had already been part of our literary diet.

It was not only horses, heifers, and calves that strayed but other creatures as well. One year it must have been about 1925 or 1926, a grown tame duck appeared in our yard. He was there for some time and we became quite friendly and he would follow me all about the yard. One day I climbed into a wagon and he protested very much because he could not follow. My parent's mentioned the duck that had become so friendly and one of our neighbors claimed it. So he went home and I lost a friendly companion.

During the winter of 1924-25, Dad fixed up our two runner sled (or sledge) with an enclosed cover. It was a little house affair about four by eight feet. He had a small wood burning stove and a makeshift cot to sleep on. It was built to accommodate one person but we children later used it as play house. We thought it was pretty wonderful while it lasted.

After finishing the house, one-. afternoon, he did the milking early and fed and watered the livestock. He hitched the horses to the sled and drove to the Blind Ditch. This stream, the same one we had picnicked at maybe a couple of years earlier, was somewhere north of our place. It was a series of springs that eventually fed into the James River between Ypsilanti and Montpelier. Where this water reached the James River, it was quite a satisfactory stream and was favored by those interested in harvesting fish. Dad must have driven seven or eight miles before reaching the fishing place. He remained at the spot during the night. He returned home with four gunny sacks filled with fish. They were fish as far as we youngsters were concerned at that time and to us large fish. The gunny sacks of fish remained outside since we had no refrigeration. There were four kinds of fish, carp, pickerel, perch and some bullheads. We ate fish that winter and my parents probably spent a great deal of time picking bones for us children. Mother was quite concerned about the possibility of children getting a bone caught in the throat. Other families in the neighborhood took advantage of natures abundance that winter.

I now also have questions about the neighborhood communication system that made people aware of what was happening in the community. It was only later that realization came that there were people who kept themselves up to date on such things as to when fish were running and chokecherries, wild plums, wild grapes and other things were ripe and ready for picking.

At a very early period Dad discovered places where plums, chokecherries and wild horseradish grew. We would go on an expedition and harvest what ever was available. On one plum picking expedition we were accompanied by one or two of the Cumber boys. When we arrived at a place which was a public road right-away, John Lexa, who did not like the Cumbers, ordered us out of the place. We did not pick many plums that day.

However Mrs. Lexa had a daughter who did some baby sitting with us on a special occasion. The Stutsman County Record headlined a story:

"VITAPHONE PICTURES PRESENTED WEDNESDAY AT OPERA'HOUSE~ AL JOLSON IN FEATURE FILM. "Vitaphone and Movietone pictures were introduced in Jamestown for the first time last night when the Jamestown Opera House presented AI Jolson in the Jazz Singer and a comedy, featuring a sideshow performance" (SCR., Thur., May 2, 1929.)

We children had seen the silent movies but pictures that talked were a different thing. Sometime after the above item, Dad and Mother made a trip one evening to Jamestown to see and listen to a talking picture. On that occasion Mrs. Lexa's daughter was our baby sitter. I firmly believe that mother and dad enjoyed the talking movie.

I have no memory of my father having a fishing license in 1924-1925. The license, however, was required for hunting and trapping. It was during the 1924-1925 or perhaps 1925-26 season that Dad decided to try trapping. There was supposed to be money in furs if one succeeded in catching animals that grew it. We received many advertisements from different fur companies, most of them greatly inflating the prices paid. Dad's trap line was on our farm and the half section west of our place. I know about this because I spent some very cold mornings in the sled as he checked the trapline. He set traps mostly for badger, skunk, weasel and mink. He may have set some for wolf or coyotes as well. ,It was not a very profitable winter. The trapping enterprise did not provide the abundant return as had the fishing expedition. He caught a few weasel. The badgers had more experiences or better odor detecters and would spring and then cover the traps with dirt. Badger fur was valued for artist brushes and many farmers disliked them because of the holes they dug. There were stories of running horses stepping into a badger hole and breaking a leg. This was the chief rationale for catching badger. I do not know that tractors have made it easier on badger. I do not recall anyone ever adverting to the fact that badgers did benefit farmers by digging out gophers, their chief source of food. Officials apparently thought it better to payout five cents a tail as gopher bounty. I still have the image of a cold and snow covered landscape over plowed fields and pasture along the trapline. It was good to be out there with my father but it also felt good to stand near the heating stove on the return home.

There was only one occasion that I know of in which Dad almost encountered the game warden. He had his hunting and trapping license with him but he was not above heckling a government official. He was hunting rabbits with a sled and team in a field. The snow was rather deep. As he approached the road he noted a car waiting and he immediately turned the team and sled and drove to the other end of the field. The warden got in his car and drove to the other end of the field. Dad made the same maneuver and headed back toward the road. Dad made a number of such trips back and forth and so did the warden, who finally gave up and drove off. He knew he could never catch Dad on foot and if he drove his car into the field he would have become stuck. We children and our mother watched this from our house. I am not sure that mother approved of Dad's action.

My memory of farming in the 1920's is closely connected with the use of horse power. Tractors were interesting but not part of our farming menagerie. There are a number of adventures that illustrate some of the dangers that young people (and older people as well) faced in those years.

There was generally a water puddle around our water tank. The one that Dad built the first winter on the Stott farm. At times he added rocks and gravel to control the situation. The hooves of the animals usually dispersed the gravel so the rocks were pretty well exposed. Gravel didn't work very well for the puddle was persistent. It was at this mess of rocks and muddy water that Sylvia, our sorrel riding horse, pitched me one Sunday spring evening. I was learning how to ride, or thought I was, and was making myself useful by riding Sylvia herding our cattle home for the evening milking. We were quite successful for several evenings. On this Sunday evening, I and Sylvia, were about a quarter of a mile from home and she decided that was far enough. She turned and ran for home. I held onto the reins and her mane yelling "whoa, whoa," as loud as I could but Sylvia wouldn't hear of it. Dad saw us coming and knew what was happening. I remained seated on Sylvia until she reached ,the water tank and then she planted all four feet. I went over her head into the mud and rocks around the water tank. Fortunately, I was unhurt but badly scared. I didn't even realize that it was a pretty good job of staying with the horse while she was galloping full out. It was her stop that I wasn't prepared for. Dad who was preparing himself to catch the horse picked me up from the rocks and carried me into the house. I believe now that he was more scared than I was either hurt or scared. I did not ride that horse again for some years. Sylvia passed on about 1933 or 1934 and according to my parents she was about 36 years of age. She died never fully recovering from her reputation as a runaway, having taken several buggies and their occupants for some hectic adventures.

It was sometime after the adventure with Sylvia that another adventure occurred. Nancy and Babe were two horses that were pretty safe for children and otherwise generally of a reliable nature. One Sunday during the summer of 1928- 1929 or 1930, Lois, Eugene and possibly Gordon and myself decided we were going to spend the day fishing along the banks of Beaver Creek. We took along a picnic lunch. The place where we were going was perhaps two or three miles north of the Stott farm. Nancy and Babe were hitched to our two wheel trailer, the partial remainder of the 1915 Model T Ford. We arrived near the place intended for our fishing expedition. We tied the horses to an isolated fence post that was standing near the creek. We did not test the stability nor the. solidity of the post. We took our picnic lunch and fishing equipment and went about our recreational activity for the day. I do not remember anything about the lunch nor anything about whether we caught any fish. Our day well spent and fun activity at an end we went back to where the team and trailer where supposed to be. The horses were gone, the trailer was gone and the post was gone. The only evidence that they had been there was the trampled grass and a shallow hole with some rotten wood where the post had stood. Fortunately we had tied both horses to the post so that it dragged between them not under them.

So we were upset about losing a team and trailer. We were concerned and we felt irresponsible. We did not know where the team had gone. We did the only thing available to us we began the long walk home. We arrived safely enough and the trailer was there. Dad had thoughtfully unhitched the team from the dragging fence post or what was left of it and unhitched them from the trailer. The postal evidence alleviated our parents concern when the horses came home without us. We were teased for not testing a post before securing our transport.

There was another incident with Babe that still arouses a certain feeling in me. It also illustrates the dangers that one must be aware of in working with animals. Runaways were probably the most frequent cause of injury or death. We were aware of runaways with hay rakes as being particularly devastating. There were other ways of encountering danger. It was in the summer of 1931 that some of our young cattle got out and I went after them on Babe. We were in a road right of way with a barbed wire fence on both sides. My problem was to get around those cattle in order to head them back. We were just about to get ahead of them when Babe stumbled and fell. I went off her back and skidded underneath the bottom wire of a barbed wire fence. Babe was probably bruised from her fall and I was shaken up. I still shiver when I think of what might have happened had I hit the wire rather than going under it. I got back on Babe and we continued to follow those cattle that had finally stopped and were grazing. We quietly went around them and headed them for home pasture.

There was another incident with horses that occurred in the spring of 1935 when Dad was foreman on the WP A project in Montpelier. We had a team and wagon working on the project. One afternoon after school Dad had me drive the team and wagon home. Dad had some business to transact and would ride home with someone else. I was experienced but did not check the hitches when taking over near the school. There were no problems until I arrived in a coulee that was in our pasture. There was an empty stream bed that was about three feet deeper than the trail. Somehow the wagon hit something as the horses entered the stream bed and held the wagon back and as a result the neck yoke dropped the tongue of the wagon which went directly into the opposite bank of the stream bed. This resulted in a very sudden and powerful stop. Both horses fell down in the stream bed and I, who was standing in the wagon box, landed head first between the two downed horses. Fortunately, I was the first to regain my composure and got out from between the horses. I unhitched them first so they could get up and fortunately they were not noticeably injured. I managed to get the wagon pole unstuck and rehitched the horses. I made certain the tugs or traces were hitched short instead of long. I was at least a mile from home when this occurred. I think some higher power was with me that day. The way I was thrown from that wagon and the landing could have left me unconscious or otherwise seriously injured. I could have been trampled by the horses as they attempted to extricate themselves from a frightening situation. My mother and siblings would not even have known that I was on my way home until Dad would have arrived. We lived with hazards in those days.

Listening to the music of three Irish tenors on Channel two, Public Television on Friday evening March 17, 2000, brought back some very moving memories. The three singers on the program were Finbar Wright, Ronan Tynan and Anthony Kearn. The program reminded me of the Edison Cylinder Phonograph which had a prominent place in our living room. It sat on a high table-bookcase with a home made rack for records attached to the wall behind it.

We must have had about fifty or sixty records in the rack. Dad had purchased the used machine in 1925 from Peter Finnegan. I think he paid $25.00 for it and some records. The phonograph was of the box style and it had a diamond needle. At least once, Dad sent the "Reproducer" back to the Edison factory to have a new needle installed. There was a crank spring winder that held enough power to play through one record and then had to be rewound.

The afternoon that he brought it home and put on a record was fascinating to us children. He later purchased some records from the Edison Company in New Jersey. He also bought a box of records from a man named Raveley who was a photographer in Edgeley, North Dakota.

The reason the Irish Tenors heard on a St. Patrick's day so many years later was so stimulating was that some of the records in the above collection were by John McCormick, the Irish tenor, singing Irish songs. The Irish song records were ordered from the Edison Company because Dad liked the Irish tenor and the songs. Among the records were: "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling," "Maggie," "Silver Threads Among the Gold," "Ireland Must Be Heaven For My Mother Came From There," "Mother Macree," and perhaps some others.

He also ordered several records by the famous Scottish singer Harry Lauder. Among these songs on record were "Roamin in the Gloamin," "When I Get Back To Bonnie Scotland", "It Nice To Get Up In The Morning," and another Scottish song "Wiggle Waggle 0' The Kilt." I think the last might have been by another singer.

We also had several other records that were played a good deal by members of the family. There was: The Preacher And The Bear," "The Little Old Ford Just Rambled Right Along," "The Prisoner's Song," and "Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie," the latter two sung by a man named Dalhart. We had at least two records by the 1910-20 comedian, Josh Billings. We also had a record that contained the voice of Thomas A. Edison speaking of American Soldiers returning from Europe after World War I. In Edison's voice it began: "Our boys made good in France."

There were quite a number of dance records popular at that time, we had mostly fox trots and waltzes but there were also some Hawaiian guitar dance tunes. There were also the records of "The Virginia Reel," "Arkansas Traveler," and "Turkey In The Straw." The collection included some rather classical and semi classical songs. There were some Strauss waltzes among them "The Blue Danube". There was a record named "Baccarole". There were also some patriotic and march records.

Other memories are also related to music. In the early years before 1930 our father liked to sing. Only a few of those songs are remembered among them are: "The Little Old Sod Shanty on the Prairie," "Casey Jones," "Old Rugged Cross," "Darlin Nellie Gray". There were" some songs he had sung in service during World War I: "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," "Katey Did," "Kaiser Bill Went Up The Hill To Take A Look At France," and snatches that are no longer remembered. Dad did his singing for us children mostly on winter afternoons and evenings. We children sat around and listened and asked him to sing more songs. During the 1930's I do not have any memory of Dad singing. When I came home after World War II, he was interested in the singing of Tennessee Ernie Ford.

Dad enjoyed singing in those early years. Singing was a family activity in Dad's family home in Edgeley. Grandpa purchased a piano early for his family and insisted that all the girls take lessons. Anyway, I recall all my aunts could play the piano and they were beautiful singers. Lucille and Fern both sang in the church choir. It was often a Sunday evening activity that the family and any visitors would gather in the living room of the big house south of Edge ley and have a song fest. One of our Aunts playing the piano and all others would sing hymns and popular songs of the period. Grandpa also played the violin and would sometimes accompany with it. I believe he played by ear since I do not recall anyone ever speaking of him having taken lessons. That violin came into my possession when I was about ten years old. I did learn to playa few tunes on it but never became an accomplished player. The violin has been passed on to my son David. The piano that sat so long in the living room of Grandpa's house passed to Aunt Fern and is now in possession of my cousin Shirley Unruh of Jamestown, North Dakota.

Another memory of entertainment in those same years was reading or reciting poetry. Dad used to read to us from a book entitled Heart Throbs which was an anthology of poems by popular poets. He especially seemed drawn to the poetry of Longfellow, Whittier and James Whitcomb Riley. He also saved poetry that he liked. He would recite poetry about joys and the difficulty of farming.

Such as:

Dad also liked "The Village Blacksmith" by Longfellow. Mother also had some preference for Longfellow but she more often quoted something from the "Song of Hiawatha. "

Since we did not have electricity our Christmas tree was lighted with candles. This was fascinating and delightful to children. There was a pail of water kept close to the Christmas tree. There have been no Christmas trees since that approached those in bright attractiveness. Our Christmas always included a special dinner even during the roughest times such as 1935.

In the 1920's we knew that Christmas was near because of the arrival of special packages from Uncle Ray and from Grandpa and Grandma Cofell and perhaps others. There were in addition, packages from Sears Roebuck and Montgomery Ward. Mother and Dad secretly made selections and ordered from the catalogue. One of my tasks at about age six was to walk to the mailbox and return with the mail. The mailbox was just over three quarters of a mile from our house. I was usually in a high state of excitement when there was a package. Some time before Christmas 1924 or 1925 there was a large box about two and half feet on each side. The box was almost as big as I and may have weighed as much. Under no circumstances was I going to leave that precious package at the mailbox. I would lift and move it perhaps a foot at a time stop and rest a moment and lift and move it again. I kept it on the route for our house but it took time to hitch that box along. I managed to move that box about one half mile and it took long enough that Mother was worried. I was relieved when she appeared over the hill looking for me. She was upset because a couple of neighbor's cars had gone by as I was moving the box. She thought they could have helped me. Between us, Mother and I, got that box home safely in plenty of time for Christmas.

Grandma's package always contained a box of Dutch Kuchen and a present of some kind for each one of us children. As we entered the depression years, Grandma and Grandpa continued to send only the Kuchen and by then that was made by Aunt Fern.

Uncle Ray's packages were also interesting. There was usually a box of chocolates for mother, and a carton of Camel cigarettes for Dad. The year best remembered there was a pull train for one of the children. What causes me to remember that particular Christmas was that Uncle Ray sent Eugene a box containing a cloth monkey. Unfortunately in opening the box the long tail of the monkey dropped out first. This frightened Eugene and he began to cry and he refused to have anything to do with that cloth monkey for some time.

Over the years, we children received an assortment of Christmas gifts. One of Grandma's packages contained a toy Service Station pump. It was the year that the Hunt family had Christmas dinner with us. Over the years, there were several dolls, sets of dishes, tool sets, erector sets, tinkertoys, paints and coloring -sets, several cloth dolls and animals. Later there were books, flashlights, mittens, gloves and scarfs.

During a very early Christmas, I received a cloth gray squirrel who subscribed to the name "Chatter". I do not remember receiving Chatter. In my memory Chatter was like my sister Lois, someone who had always been there. Whatever Christmas he arrived Chatter remained with me until sometime after we moved to Montpelier. Chatter just kind of lost appeal as he lost his eyes and one day all the stuffing fell out and his cloth skin was thin, he was in an irreparable mood.

I think the most serious disappointment for Christmas was the year I received a four wheel pony. I had asked for a pony for Christmas and was told I would receive one. The one that I had envisioned was about four feet tall-and was alive ate oats and hay and was real. The one foot model was a distinct disappointment.