Opponents of proposed Deadwood petting zoo claim it is front for fur farm


Many nights we waken to the haunting sound of from thirty-five to fifty wolves howling for hours on end, and at all hours of the night, right next door. Sometimes we hear them howling unceasingly during daytime hours. We’ve figured out that much of the time (like dogs) they must be desperately crying out for food when they’re very hungry. How did we draw this conclusion? Because they stop very suddenly and then don’t howl again for a day or more . . .as if someone has finally gotten around to feeding them.

Oftentimes we’ve had to go for days on end with the house closed up in spring, summer and fall, because the stench of the rotting road kill they feed the wolves so totally permeates the neighborhood air that to remain outdoors, or to open any windows, meant to quickly become nauseated.

Then there has been the intermittent screaming of pigs. (My husband and I both grew-up on farms and easily recognize the scream of a hog in distress.) Last year another of our neighbors took a photograph of a dead pig lying among the rest of the pigs, frozen to death. We’re told that these are feeder pigs . . . but often wonder aghast, “Oh my gosh, aren’t they killing the pigs before feeding them to the wolves?” It’s a torturous sound for my husband and I because we are both animal lovers. My husband has looked at me with a pleading expression in his eyes, and it breaks my heart to see him hurting for these helpless animals next door to us. We’ve had to go indoors because the sound has been so emotionally traumatizing.

Then there are the cougars and other wildcats, which as most folks realize are dangerous animals. They’ve erected an eight foot tall wire fence but don’t seem to know that cats will climb and/or crawl under just about anything in their way.

The owner of this so-called petting zoo is in the process of opening a twin set-up in Deadwood, South Dakota. Here is the latest news on this matter. We hope and pray that maybe, finally, Minnesota will follow suit. (Go to link below)


<a href="http://Opponents of proposed Deadwood petting zoo claim it is front for fur farm.” title=”Opponents of proposed Deadwood petting zoo claim it is front for fur farm”>Opponents of proposed Deadwood petting zoo claim it is front for fur farm.



As I sit here by the fire on this freezing cold winter evening, I find myself gazing out the window, so grateful to be inside where it’s warm. As millions of snow flakes fall softly to the earth, I feel myself slipping . . . slowly . . . into a mesmerized state of recall. Recalling winters-gone-by I embrace countless sweet memories. Memories I pray that Old Father Time will permit me to carry with me always.

So many winters have passed in my lifetime, each one with its own pure white driven snow. Drifting . . . further and further back in time, my mind wanders until I’m suddenly no longer here in the warmth of this room. Instead, I’m a child again; a child of six. I’m walking from my grandparent’s home to the tiny post office where I’d wait each morning to board the school bus to take me to my grade school in the next town of Saint Peter, Minnesota.old p.o. waited for bus in 1st grade

Trudging through the four blocks of snow covered alley-ways (in Kasota, Minnesota) seemed like such a long walk. I didn’t care because in my mind’s eye I was already playing in my grandma’s backyard; building snow forts and snowmen with my little sister. How we had loved being all covered in white, fluffy snow. It seemed as though the snow would be so deep that many times it was difficult to walk through it; at least up to my knees, every year, before it stopped falling!

My first year of that walk that seemed so very long, I’d have to make my way to kindergarten in the big old Kasota School.Copy of The Old Kasota School4 It was an enormous, very old building and had always seemed a bit ominous to me.

Soon the school bus would pull-up in front of John Ireland School where I’d climb down those tall school bus steps into even more deep snow. My heart would beat faster with wild anticipation of that three-o’clock bell; the bell that meant we could go home, go outdoors and play for hours in the snow!John_Ireland_School_St_Peter_MinnesotaPatty & I @John Ireland

Sometimes Mama would drive us out to the Saint Peter Golf Course where there was an enormous hill to go-sliding down. We would take our sleds along and slide to our heart’s content! That hill was the highlight of our winters every year.

Many times though, I’d be invited to stay in-town after school and go to one of my school friend’s house. I had two friends who I especially enjoyed visiting. One of those friends had parents who owned a small grocery store a few blocks from school. We’d walk inside the front door, and there before us would be spread a large display of candy bars and all different kinds of penny-candy. How I loved that little store. LeAnn lived with her parents in a pretty little apartment behind the store. I recall thinking how lucky she was to have all of that candy right there at her fingertips.

The floors looked so different back in the 1950’s. Old, unfinished, worn wooden boards. The floor boards were dark colored and a little bit dusty in that little store, and they’d creak as I walked across them. How I loved Starkens’ Grocery Store.

Then, of course, there were the floors in my grade school . . . they, too, were old wooden floors, but were finished with some type of varnish and were kept so well polished that one could almost see one’s face in them! Reminiscing, I chuckle to myself at how things like floors, and deep snow could have made such a lasting impression on me. For several years as I grew older and taller, in fact, I’d wonder sadly why the winter snow falls were never so deep anymore. One day reality dawned on me; and I finally realized that it wasn’t the snow that had become so much deeper then, but how much shorter I’d been as a young child!3rd Grade

Once at school, my lungs would immediately fill with the heavy scent of an air-freshener that never seemed to go away. I never could figure-out whether or not I liked that scent. At times, especially in the lavatory, it always seemed overpowering. Grade school was scary for me at first. On the first day of school, a little girl rushed over to me and began talking to me and making over me. Soon I had lots of little friends who managed to replace my fear with gladness.B-day-Childhood1<a
One of my favorite times in winter were the times that my girlfriend, Linda, my little sister and I would go Christmas caroling in Saint Peter. We were in the third and fourth grades back then. Mama would drive us into town and drop us off during the evening, and return to pick us up later by the Ben Franklin Store in Saint Peter’s tiny downtown. Together, we’d walk from house to house, knock on each door and when the residents opened their door, we’d begin to sing Silent Night to them (along with a few other caroles.) We were able to harmonize well, and people seemed to love our singing. Residents would ooh and awe over us and then give us a small donation. StPeterBenFranklinToward the end of those evenings, we’d walk a couple of blocks to the tiny downtown and buy Christmas gifts for our mothers with the money we’d earned. To this day I’m able to experience the exhiliration of being outdoors after dark all by ourselves!

John Ireland (5)Recalling how much fun school recess could be; how we’d walk single-file over to the playground on the next block. During springtime and the autumn, we’d swing and ride the teeter-totter. Sometimes we’d even play softball. How I loved those big old swings that squeaked as they moved to and fro, as if I was somehow magically floating through the air.

My other favorite friend was Patty McCabe. She was a very sweet and gentle spirit. Mama always had to work, whereas Patty’s mother, Maxine, was always at home. I was always welcome there and so Patty’s house became my second home. Her mother would always have a snack made-up for us as soon as we’d arrive there after school. Maxine would make us fabulous breakfasts and dinners. Patty’s two older sisters were quite a bit older than we were. I used to love to watch them fixing their hair for their Friday night dates. Patty and I both looked up to them. Mike, Patty’s brother was lots of fun to kid around with. He had a very comical sense of humor. Theirs’ was a very strong family unit and I truly felt as if I were one of the family. I practically lived there from third through the sixth grade with Patty and her family. John Ireland (2)We joined Campfire Girls together and held slumber parties. But then I changed schools and Patty and I didn’t see each other as much. It saddens me now, how easily people lose touch with friends who’ve been so important to them. It saddens me because at my age, I realize all too well how a loved one can be here one minute, and gone the next. Forever.

I returned to visit John Ireland School forty years later. It looked exactly the same inside and out! Even the air-freshener smelled exactly the same. Nostalgia permeated my mind and my heart. I was so glad that I’d made that visit back-in-time because that old school was torn down just a few years later.

Although the building is gone, I’m able to see it so clearly in my mind’s eye, that it is as if I were still there. The little Starkens’ Grocery Store and the old Ben Franklin Store are also present in my mind’s eye as if it were only yesterday that I visited them both. I miss those days even now, more than fifty years later, and I believe I always will.

DSC_0405 Copyright November 2014 by JC “Jeanie” Cooke-Fredlund, Author. (Jeanie’s new book BAD RAP, The Truth About the Tragically Misunderstood Pit Bull was recently released/published by http://www.Bookwhirl.com.)



DAY #1:
I’d wondered whether or not a trip consisting of two adults and a big dog in a 25 foot motor home might not be a little bit difficult, but August 04th rolled around and during the wee-morning-hours we embarked on our trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

DSC_0126Our first day on the road meant a lot of driving and riding. Along the way into Iowa I’d decided to “try” to use our motor home bathroom. (We were moving along on a freeway at the time.) I got out of my seat in the front and hung-onto whatever I could as I meandered my way to the back where the bathroom is located.

So, there I was, closing the bathroom door. I should never have released my grip on the bathroom door knob after closing it tightly. Just as I released my grip on the knob, Ralph turned onto an extremely bumpy freeway exit. As I lost my balance I desperately grabbed ahold of one of the towel racks with one hand, and the shower curtain with my other hand. Down they both went; along with me as I tumbled backward into the shower. It wasn’t a bad landing, but as I shouted, “Ouch” from the shower floor, I realized that my husband could not have heard me over all of the road noise and rattling sounds a motor home makes while in-transit.

No other recourse left to me, I carefully climbed out of the shower, returned to the cab and sat down beside Dazie, The Pit Bull and Ralph. We finally stopped at a KOA Campground in Crawfordsville, IN where Ralph hooked-up the electric. We went to bed for the night.

DAY #2:
We awakened early the following morning. It was a tight squeeze passing each other from one end of the motor home to the other. In fact, it was so tight that I decided to get up before Ralph. That way I could get cleaned-up, make coffee, get something out for breakfast and work on the finishing touches of my book manuscript.

So, here we are, trying to get ready to get back on the road in our tight, 25 foot quarters with coffee sitting on the small dining table waiting for us. I sat down at the table so that my six-foot-four-inch tall husband would be able to walk past me to the kitchen sink. (This motor home has cupboard doors that open outward and upward. I’m only five-feet-three inches tall and shrinking so I really don’t see the cupboard doors once I’ve opened them – to the ceiling.)

So, what happened next? Ralph walked right smack-dab into the cupboard door I’d left open. Now I don’t often hear my husband swear, but his response to the experience went something like this, “#!!*!!@**!?##*” I thought to myself, “Uh-oh” and apologized. So much for a “Good Morning.”

DAY #3:
The following day was filled with more riding and driving when Ralph announced, “We’re in West Virginia!” We both were hungry. I noticed a large billboard that read, “Biscuit World” and suggested we stop there for a quick lunch. Ralph proceeded to walk Dazie and he suggested I go ahead inside the restaurant. Thus began my waking nightmare.

I opened the restaurant door and entered a very dirty fast-food joint. A woman shouted from behind a counter (in her high-pitched southern twang,) “Can I help you honey?” Little did I know that I should never have replied to her question with, “No thank you. I’m just waiting for my husband to come in.” The moment I’d finished the last word of my sentence, from around the corner burst this huge young guy who had frizzy hair that stuck-out all over the place, dressed in scrubby-looking clothing who stopped three feet short of where I stood. He proceeded to stand there and gawk at me, (as though I were the one from some other planet) wide-eyed and without blinking even once. Thank goodness the dirty look I gave him seemed to register and he went back around the same corner.

Ralph then entered Biscuit World and I pleaded with him never to leave me alone again on this trip. He agreed. We ate a little of the food, and got out of there as fast as we could.  (Actually, if I never see West Virginia again, it will be too soon!)

Later on into the evening we pulled into another KOA Campground where, once Ralph had hooked-up the electric, we three bedded-down for the night in Greenwood, Virginia.

DAY #4:
The following morning, I arose first and made coffee. Once again, I’d forgotten about that darn cupboard door and you’ll never guess what happened! Yep! Poor Ralph walked right into it again! (Now I’m one of those misguided people who wants to laugh and laugh at anything even remotely related to slap-stick comedy.) Needless to say, I held-in my uproarious laughter.

Ralph and I stopped and visited an enormous antique mall where we spent nearly the entire afternoon.  (The antique malls out east are enormous with thousands of items for sale!)

 My high school best friend and I had been maintaining contact via cell phone, and I phoned to let her know that we were getting nearer Pennsylvania (where she and her husband live). Kathy and I had booked a ghost tour together at Gettysburg as well as a Paranormal Investigation after dark by the Gettysburg Battlefield. I’d also booked an afternoon air-conditioned bus tour of the battlefield for Ralph and I. We were both getting excited. (We hadn’t seen each other in over six years when I was vacationing in Washington DC.)Kathy & Jeanie by her horse barn

Once again, we drove and rode all day long.

DAY #5:
By now we were getting much nearer our destination. We’d made it to Williamsburg, Virginia. We both wanted to spend some time in Colonial Williamsburg where we visited the first English Settlement in 1607 of Yorktown and then Jamestown. (Fortunately, Ralph has done a lot of traveling and knew to avoid all the tourist traps in both locales. We went, instead, directly to the State Park where the real (i.e. original) history lies.)

My favorite spots there were Black Point which we walked out to the end of and which is documented to be quite haunted. It was beautiful. In Yorktown, it was extremely fascinating to see the first English Settlement (markers where the original buildings stood) and to imagine everything as it was way back then.Black Point DSC_0199

DAY #6:
At last, we made it all the way out to Pennsylvania. Kathy lives way outside of town so she insisted on meeting us at the bottom of the freeway exit in York Springs, PA. I really enjoyed riding over the enormous hills out there. She and her husband live way out among many beautiful apple orchards.

Tonight was to be our Ghost Tour in Gettysburg. We toured a large area near Cemetery Hill and then a large house that was standing there during the Civil War. It still has the bullet holes in the outside walls to prove it! Many wounded soldiers had hidden in the attic of the house where many died.

DAY #7:
The following afternoon Ralph and I took the bus tour of Gettysburg Battlefield. Our tour guide did an excellent job describing the battle that took place at Gettysburg and the story of the 50,000 soldiers who’d lain slaughtered there. Their bodies and the bodies of countless horses they’d ridden laid out in the sun decomposing for several days, since the living had to remain in the town tending to the wounded.

When they were finally able to bury the 50,000 dead soldiers, they dug only six inch graves and buried them right where they lay. Shortly thereafter the rains came. All the soil that had covered the dead was washed away and the hogs and dogs ate what was left. Only miscellaneous bones were found later and given a proper burial.DSC_0114 DSC_0047

I found walking on the battlefield to be a very sobering experience. I felt my heart grow heavy with sadness and an acute awareness that I was walking on hallowed ground.

DAY #8:
Kathy and I embarked on our Private Paranormal Investigation after dark. Our tour guides were from the Mason Dixon Paranormal Society and did a fantastic job. We visited the Sachs Covered Bridge beside the battlefield which is well-documented to be quite haunted.Kathy and an Orb on Sachs Bridge Gettysburg

It was a great trip, but we’re all happy to get home.  All in all, we both felt that our trip had been an enormous success!

Copyright 2014 by JC Fredlund ALL RIGHTS RESERVED






Image and video hosting by TinyPic

(THIS ARTICLE HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED TO: http://www.NewsandCurrentEvents.Wordpress.com)




THIS ARTICLE HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED TO: http://www.NewsandCurrentEvents.Wordpress.com)



"With Pen in Hand . . . "
With Pen in Hand . . .

. . . I Bid You, a Warm and Cheerful, Good Morning!

When one is starting-out writing, the idea of publishing and/or posting anything can be more than a little overwhelming. I know this from grueling experience. In fact, I sometimes wonder whether or not narcissists make the best writers!

As for me, I tend to be an introvert – but an introvert who likes people. This makes for some interesting endeavors and adventures in writing for me. I do think that many writers are introverts. Consequently, I’ve decided that whenever I run across a really outstanding blog that can be of assistance to other writers, I will feature the blog here at JC Eberhart’s Artistry!

Hope you find this helpful, too!

Warmest regards,


Previous Older Entries