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As a child, it was one of my greatest delights to visit my grandparents in the spring when the whip-poor-wills began to call. Grandma and Grandpa lived in a remote valley of the Ozark Mountains where there were trees a plenty, and, seemingly, a whip-poor-will, or two, in each one.
My grandmother insisted that a whip-poor-will's call was not "whip-poor-will," but instead, "chip-butter-white-oak." I would listen really hard trying to hear it exactly as she said it was, but all I could hear was "whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,..." But, I never let on to her.
I remember my grandpa watching and listening, with an amused look on his face, to one of these listening sessions. Shortly after that he began to call me, just for fun, "Chip Butter." It is a name I am proud to wear for I still love to hear that long, lonesome call on a warm summer's eve. And, sometimes, when I listen really, really hard, it seems I can hear quite clearly, "chip-butter-white-oak, chip-butter-white-oak..."

Monday, February 18, 2013


She is not the first Twiggy. There was her grandmother, a holstein-jersey cross, who was the first, and then her mother who was the second.  The present Twiggy is a beautiful cow, everything one could possibly want in a beef cow.  She is three-fourths Angus, one-eighth holstein, and one-eighth jersey.  She will have a calf soon, and it will be...the fractions and percentages in its pedigree are getting harder to figure...I will think about this later.  But, for now, we just hope she will have a heifer calf, one to keep on in the herd, one to be named Twiggy... the fourth Twiggy!

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