The Mountain Lion at the Farm
Cassidy Jensen
10 December 2013 Mountain Lion at the Farm It was a warm and sunny summer day as my family traveled past dirt-filled country roads to our grandparents large, retired farm. The cows in the nearby field mooed, chewing their cud, as we drove into the long, gravel driveway. My young 10-year-old self was ecstatic to see my grandparents and younger cousin and to explore the old farm as we had done countless times before. “Cassidy!!”, squealed my cousin, Taden, happily, as he rushed out the front door of our grandparents comfortable farmhouse like a rocket launching into space. “Let’s go exploring!”, he said excitedly, as he threw open the passenger side door of the car and pulled at my arm before I could even unbuckle myself. “Okay! Okay! I’m coming!”, I laughed, as I jumped out and hugged him. We wandered from the driveway to a smaller dirt path that led to the front gates of the farm, and ducked under the rusty, olive-green, iron fencing. The birds were chirping pleasant tunes all around us and the few cows nearby bellowed out long, low, content moos. I looked around at all the old buildings and animal corrals, there was a horse shed that looked a lot like the leaning tower of Pisa to my right and a long line of giant grain silos that lined the fence of a pasture to my left. The silos looked as if they were tall palace guards protecting the front of the farm. As we strolled farther in, I began to imagine how we could get lost in all these different fences, buildings, equipment and pastures that surrounded us like a huge hedge maze. I ran my hand along the side of a bumpy wooden fence with odd yellow-orange colored dots of moss all over the surface. We came across a rickety, low-ceilinged sheep shed that looked and felt quite like a long drafty corridor in an ancient castle.” Let’s go in
10 December 2013 Mountain Lion at the Farm It was a warm and sunny summer day as my family traveled past dirt-filled country roads to our grandparents large, retired farm. The cows in the nearby field mooed, chewing their cud, as we drove into the long, gravel driveway. My young 10-year-old self was ecstatic to see my grandparents and younger cousin and to explore the old farm as we had done countless times before. “Cassidy!!”, squealed my cousin, Taden, happily, as he rushed out the front door of our grandparents comfortable farmhouse like a rocket launching into space. “Let’s go exploring!”, he said excitedly, as he threw open the passenger side door of the car and pulled at my arm before I could even unbuckle myself. “Okay! Okay! I’m coming!”, I laughed, as I jumped out and hugged him. We wandered from the driveway to a smaller dirt path that led to the front gates of the farm, and ducked under the rusty, olive-green, iron fencing. The birds were chirping pleasant tunes all around us and the few cows nearby bellowed out long, low, content moos. I looked around at all the old buildings and animal corrals, there was a horse shed that looked a lot like the leaning tower of Pisa to my right and a long line of giant grain silos that lined the fence of a pasture to my left. The silos looked as if they were tall palace guards protecting the front of the farm. As we strolled farther in, I began to imagine how we could get lost in all these different fences, buildings, equipment and pastures that surrounded us like a huge hedge maze. I ran my hand along the side of a bumpy wooden fence with odd yellow-orange colored dots of moss all over the surface. We came across a rickety, low-ceilinged sheep shed that looked and felt quite like a long drafty corridor in an ancient castle.” Let’s go in