A Tribute to Excellence...

Marilyn Chase, Patty Chase, Alan Chase, Meredith Taylor, Betty Blake, Joan Norgeot, Roberta Cole—Alvin and Elmer—many of us grew up near and around that farm. It snaked around Twiss road, spread down to the inlet and over to Pochet Road, encompassing Harvey’s Ice Pond. In space, it rivaled the Duck Farm.

On the edge of the deep pond was a huge open-air building filled with sawdust ready to store ice for summer use. Bones of slaughtered beef littered the embankment overlooking the pond.

The farm land, along with Payson’s Point, are now jealously guarded by “No Trespassing Signs.” Those did not exist in my time.

At one point I could easily walk from my house almost at the end of Barley Neck, through cattle paths and pastures, past Harvey’s Pond. over to Pochet and onto the rickety old bridge that led to the outer beach.

Elmer Taylor was not the only cattle farm; Freddie Mayo had a tiny one on Nauset Beach Road. I think there were more, but I cannot remember them. Many people raised chickens (I did) and had extensive gardens, some of which spanned more than an acre. We were far more self-sufficient than present day inhabitants.

Mayo’s Duck Farm was alive with action. Stanley Chipman and I candled eggs and stapled card board boxes. We worked Saturdays. In fact, the work week was 48 hours.

Kenny Peterson and I would turn over feed hoppers; then we stoned and clubbed the rats that scurried out. We had good aim. There were plenty of rats.

One-arm Fred Higgins still lived in his tiny building...hunting and fishing...sculling his tiny craft out to Payson Islands.

In the summer, we would play in the giant haystack, or hide in the hay above the cow stanchions. If we dared, we would edge close to the stalls of Tom and Jerry, the huge work horses. They were immense...and kind. Although possibly apocryphal, I remember Marilyn fell off one of the horses....the horse stopped, huge foot raised over her. It did not move till she scurried out from under.

I remember Alvin Taylor telling us that cow and pig manure was good for the feet. He smirked as we tried to walk on top of the fence in front of the pig pen. I did not want to fall! For some reason, cow flops never bothered me.

In the winter, as we grew older, bon fires were lit on Crystal Pond; we skated there or on some of the other lakes in the area. Sometimes one of the many cranberry bog was flooded. Great Skating!

Does Otis still remember morning trout fishing at Crystal Lake? Does anyone remember Eric Reed clamming over at Skaket? Or how seniors would sneak down to Bowling pond for a quick drag on a cigarette during lunch time?