Summer has arrived, 1935, and it is hot. Nothing is stirring. The birds, the crickets and even the mosquitoes are waiting for the sun to set, but Doris and I are not so smart! Daddy told us there were too many gophers near the house. They are raiding our garden, and for animals and people their holes are a hazard. So here we are, Doris and I, 14 and 13 respectively, and hot and bored.
“We have to snare the gophers,” said Doris.
“Why not drown them out as we did in that other bad spot?” I asked.
“You know, Marjie – our water supply is low. At least we will each get our penny a tail from Daddy, and that does buy a lot of penny candy.”
Snaring is slow work, especially when gophers are running around squeaking alarms. However we both set up at a hole, and wait and wish for shade. Continue reading