A Thank you to my hammock family

**flair4040** · 01-02-2011, 21:46

You are my newly adpopted grandfather. I never knew either of my real ones. So, I pick you.

**Bradley** · 01-02-2011, 23:42

You all are to kind . . .
and are the reason I felt comfortable enough to do the OP,

And inspire me to write more . . . as it is my passion.
Guess I should have entered that into a different thread . . .

I hope to one day sit with you all, around a fire and . . .

**mbiraman** · 01-02-2011, 23:53

Very nice Bradley. . Good luck tonight.

**X-Lem** · 01-03-2011, 03:12

Truely inspirational to one who is beginning to wake from the American Dream. The path you have chosen, though less traveled, may be the wisest. Thank you.

**Deadphans** · 01-03-2011, 20:00

Nice Bradley. I second that notion about the like button haha.

I know a few people out here in the down east Maine woods who live in a homesteading situation. 5 - 6 people split 62 acres and set there own boundaries within. My buddy/guitarist Alan has a one bedroom place with a loft where he lives with his girlfriend/soon to be fiance. Water from a spring, electricity from solar panels and one person on the homestead also has wind power, wood stove for heat and cooking. I love it out there. We started talks about possibly adding another person to the homestead, me! Not sure where life will take me, but I would love to do it.

Good guy that Bradley is.

**Duffy** · 01-04-2011, 01:40

Well said, Bradley. Thank you

**Fronkey** · 01-04-2011, 07:07

Awesome story Bradley! Nice Lord of the Rings reference.

-Trevor

**Bradley** · 01-04-2011, 23:46

Thank you all
I hope it is not to presumptuous to think I should continue a bit . . .
. . . if it is someone should say so . . .

The first night

I had just had . . . the final . . . “That’s it”
With the “Fire in the hole”, passionate, French lady friend of mine.
“Fire in the hole” my way of saying "Things were always, just about to blow"

As I moved out that morning, I had some choices to make.
Like . . . OK . . . where to now.

The property that I had just purchased a month earler, was my only choice,
All be it, not a building on site.

My first day/night there, building the floor
One corner resting on the ground.
The other three somewhat elevated, as there does not exist a flat spot.
I used living trees as my pillars at the three corners.
Cut them down to the height I needed and placed the sill boards on them.
Laid out the floor joists and nailed it all up.
With the Plywood laid and nailed, I built a simple house like structure
4ft 2x4 on each corner,
front and back in the center, I set up seven foot high ridge line support
and the ridge line was a 16ft 2x4.
From the ridgeline ends to each corner post was a 2x4
Angled down like the pitch of a roof,
And from the top of each corner post on the sides another 2x4 to each other.
I then lifted and dragged my industrial tarp 20 x 120 ft
And proceeded to enclose the new, somewhat stable structure.

As I was assembling the sheet metal wood burning stove,
With the back gable wall not yet up,
It was getting dark, but only dusk,
Which on the prairies can last for a while,
I started to feel a little uncomfortable,
Something wasn’t right . . . I wasn’t alone.
Off and out a little ways I could hear the fall leaves rustling,
Just a short ways from the open end of my new home
There was a lot of rustling going on.
The hair on the back of my neck was so on end it hurt.
There was a gathering, a building of a group . . . of . . .
And then the first YIP . . . and then a second
YIPP, YIPP, YIP, Ya-ooooooh
A large group of coyote had amassed,
10 or twenty of them, not more than fifty feet away,
I couldn’t see them for the light was dim and the forest thick, in that direction.
And then one, two, then four at a time would sing out their chilling call.
The chorus sent off a wild bush extravaganza of a symphony,
Off and on, they would have the briefest moments of rest,
And that is when trailing echoes would drift through the trees,
Only to be sharply started up again.
This symphony of the wild when on, and on.
I wasn’t timing it but I must have enjoyed it for 15 to twenty minutes.
I had stopped all work . . . just to listen,
To listen to their chorus of welcome . . . to me.
As the singing died slowly at first, and then shut down.
I listened to the brief shadow of the end echo,
Knowing it was over . . . listened for more.
Buy there was no more, and no sound, no sound at all.
The silence was deafening . . .

. . . were they still there,
What were they up to . . .

The light of day was near gone at this point,
I hurried to light the coal oil lantern, to finish the stove and the end wall.
I started a fire in that stove in my new home,
Then set up my bedroll on an elevated mattress.
Made a hot chocolate, and eased in one and a half ounce of Jack.

Yukon Jack.
I sat in a creaky old lawn chair, sipped my hot toty,
Was thankful for what I had, and had accomplished that day.
Thankful for my wild welcome, and looked around my sparse new home,
And wondered what would unfold in the near future . . .
As it was the end of October, and the snows and cold of winter were about to descend upon me . . .