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Monday morning was warm and humid as my wife and I sat on the front porch watching the geese come and go as we drank our coffee. We planned our entire day which included doing nothing at all. We decided, to celebrate Labor Day, we would avoid any kind of labor. My son and grandson, Damon and Zane, were coyote hunting in the area and we could hear the dogs baying on the trail. I thought about grabbing a rifle in case they ran one by the house, but even that seemed like too much work. This was the day to be lazy. An hour or so later, when I was getting ready to eat a granola bar for breakfast, Damon and Zane showed up with their pack of coyote hounds. Damon was going to hunt the far side of the lake, but Zane had his fill of chasing coyotes in circles. He joined us in a cup of coffee and responded affirmatively when his Nanna suggested some breakfast. My breakfast suddenly went from a granola bar to Belgian waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and juice. I was not about to complain that his Nanna might spoil Zane; I get to eat, too.[[In-content Ad]]

Over breakfast, Zane and I were discussing his plans for the day. He thought he might go work on a trail through the woods he and his Nanna had started last week. He was using his hatchet and she was using hedge trimmers. They were connecting two existing trails to drive the Mule through, but it was a slow and tedious process. I remember two boys making a trail with hatchets about thirty years ago. They spent days cutting trees and even made bridges with baling twine and saplings. I thought back to those days of how hard his dad and uncle worked and thought I could offer a bit of assistance. I told him I would bring my chain saw and help him clear his trail.

We were ready to leave when Damon showed up after an unsuccessful hunt. The breakfast was gone so he got the granola bar and thought he might as well bring the tractor and loader out to help us.

The plan was on. Zane would drive the Mule ahead, showing us where the trail should be. I would follow him, cutting down small trees and brush with the chain saw to make the trail enough to traverse. Damon followed me with the tractor, pushing trees and brush off the path and smoothing the surface. We cleared the trail Zane and my wife started. We continued on to a trail they had driven, but had not started clearing. We finished with another trail that I thought might be impossible, but with enough sawing, pushing, and cursing, made a nice path through the timber.

Today, I was telling a friend of mine about my sore muscles and spending the day carrying a chain saw around the woods. He thought I might have lost my mind and perhaps my grandson is just a bit spoiled. I heartily disagreed. The trails will serve many functions. They will be logging trails for bringing out firewood and great paths to bring out deer during hunting season. Just today, my wife gave Louie, our boxer pup a bath after which he ran to the Mule to go for a ride. She took him around the new trails through the timber to dry him off.

Zane is not spoiled by coming up with the idea and conning the adults to go along with it. Louie is perhaps a bit spoiled. A dog should not be able to convince anybody to take him for a ride in the woods.

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