Hello Barncats

Must show you our two new barn cats! I went to buy alfalfa hay from a local farmer and spied a large crew of playing kittens. The farmer informed us that we were welcome to take home one or many of the cats if we'd like. They ranged in ages from probably a couple of weeks old to adult. Lots of cats, I tell you. My immediate reaction was a solid "No Way - my husband would kill me!" Then about ten minutes later, I was saying: "well, let me talk to my husband and see what he thinks." Followed not long after by: "We'll take two, sir." The farmer said that the neighboring children had given names to most of the babies, but Asa wanted to name the littlest orange-tabby kitten (chosen in remembrance of our dear-departed MOJO) Rose; later we went with the name the neighbor kids gave her: Cream. The gray tabby was given the name Millie (you know... we have a flour mill); kids had named her "Cutie-Pie" (we couldn't live with that name). We're going to stick with the name Millie.

Millie had a rough first day: shortly after plunking her down in her new digs, she decided to explore the hole in the ground at the base of the mill wall, and I ended up having to climb down there to get her out. Under our flour mill is the partially-filled mill race. Partially filled with bricks, dirt, and debris; partially filled with water. At some point in time, folks used the mill race as a dump.

You can find the oddest (creepiest) objects in the water down there. From the sloping mud and broken bricks down into the water you can see a child's plastic ball floating on blackness, on broken bricks - a lightbulb (fully intact - how can that be?), some tires, a push-mower, metal gas cans, glass gallon jugs - some broken, some not; cinderblocks, overturned metal 5-gallon buckets without lids and oozing radioactive looking orange and reddish glowing pus. I'm not kidding... the color was frightening; something just under the water that looked strangely like an eel; and this cavernous area continued through a curving tunnel into the darkness - it went on until it faded to black - I couldn't see just how far the tunnel went.It made me think of the watery tunnel from the original Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie. There was a strange quiet stillness to the water in this room. Once in a while there would be a few bubbles plip-plipping to the surface. What was down there making the air bubbles?
What is this stuff just under the water? That little frog hopped into the water and made me scream like a little girl. It's much deeper than I had thought it was. Eeewwwww!

The kitten had somehow crossed the water to a mudbar that I couldn't - and didn't want to - reach. She was doing a scared-cat meow, and I could see that she had walked through the bright orange-reddish ooze. Was her fur and flesh burning off at this very moment? Did I pluck her from her cozy barn to bring her to her death just under one hour later? I was scared and creeped out, but I had to save her. She was not about to walk through water again even if it was the only way out of this place. I had to do it myself.

I worked to get our longest planks of wood down through the openings that were meant to keep man and beast from falling down into the water. I was hoping she would walk across the planks herself, but she was not the slightest bit interested. Tried to coax her with cat food on the plank. Nope. I really, really, really didn't want to risk walking along the plank over the festering water, just to fall right in and sink slowly but surely into the silty sludge just below the surface. Just like the flip-flop I lost to the Codorus Creek mud last spring. I didn't want that to happen to me. My foot; my body; my flesh couldn't touch that stuff. I begged her to walk that plank. I sweet-talked her. I yelled once. I was desperate; but I eventually saw that I had no choice. John wasn't home to help (rescue) me. John didn't even know that we had two barn cats; I was already going to be in big trouble just having them - how could I now phone him to ask his advise on how to extract one of them from under the mill? I was on my own. I asked Jake to stand at the top of race, phone in hand, in case I needed 911.

Here's Asa at the top of the race.

I had to shimmy down the slope through years and years worth of dust and cobwebs, nails and debris and broken glass. What I was walking over gave a little under my foot with each step I took. It felt like the mound I walked on could collapse at any moment. I was really scared. This was so out of a horror movie. I carried down three more planks to try to make a wider area for me to walk on, and I hoped that with more width would come more strength.

Maybe my boot wouldn't even touch the water - that's what I was hoping for. I made several attempts to walk across, but half-way aborted the mission out of fear. The wood was bowing and I wasn't sure it would hold my weight. This is a 2.5 foot distance were talking about here, but I didn't know how deep the silt/sludge was. Finally I was able to get enough courage to walk the whole way, I quickly grabbed the scared kitten by the neck, ran back across, and up the slope. I scrambled out of there so quickly and threw the kitten to Jake. I paused to shiver and shake from the creepiness of it all, brushed the spiders and cobwebs from my hair and clothes, then got the hell out of that mill. I washed Millie right away with soap and water in case that junk was toxic. She seemed fine and actually appeared quite happy to be reunited with her little orange friend, rubbing against her over and over again, purring loudly.

Above the grass you can just barely see the top of the stone archway that once allowed a stream to run under the mill. There is a small opening just big enough for critters to crawl into the cavern.

I was relieved that Millie was finally out, and proud of myself for getting the job done. I was absolutely sure that I'd have nightmares that night about the whole fiasco. But I didn't. John took the news about the cats better than I had expected, probably because I rolled into the cat news the story of the horrible experience I had saving her from "under there". We both sat down outside and drank a beer together and talked about our future goals and ideas for our little place with the goats and the kittens and the kids. That day had really turned out pretty nice in the end.