Our Pet Deer

Having grown up in Junction Valley on the ranch, we were surrounded by the high mountains with the large reservoir, mountain streams and broad blue skies.  We enjoyed a country lifestyle with our cousins close by.  We had many adventures with wild animals, many varieties of birds, and fishing was a favorite pastime.  We liked to catch the crawdads at the creek and make willow whistles.  We had trap lines in the winter and in the spring we waited for the eggs in the magpie nests to hatch, for the bounty was better on the little birds.  It was a great childhood.

The folks first home was a little three room house near Grandma Lind at the Lind homestead.  The joy of having a pet deer began early in life, probably even with Dad and his brothers and sisters.  When Oscar was only about two years old, he liked to feed the bottle of milk to his pet fawn and walk around holding on to it’s tail.  They were friends.  Mother said that she always knew when Tom Sherry was in the neighborhood, because the hair on the pet deer’s back would stand straight up and then the dog would start barking.  For some reason the deer didn’t like Tom.

I remember us having several pet deer that we loved, one about every year.  Dad would go out riding and find a little spotted fawn laying under the bushes and bring it home. We would feed them on the bottle and they would follow us around and live around in the yard and pastures.  As they grew up they would take off to live in the wild of the hills.

One Sunday in the fall when I was about seven years old, we were on our way home from church at the school house and as we got up by Uncle Alex’s place we spied a buck deer with horns standing in the pasture by the side of the road.  We called for Dad to stop the car so we could get out to see him.  We were sure he was one of our pets.  Dad stopped, but warned us to stay back away from him because he was a wild animal and not one of ours.  But we were sure he was as we all hurried out of the car in our Sunday clothes and started toward him.  He stood still watching us and we were able to walked right up to him and pet him.  He remembered us!  We were so excited to see him all grown up.  We didn’t want to leave, but the folks finally convinced us to go home for dinner.

We always worried that our pet deer would get shot with the wild deer at deer season time.  We had one that we raised that had four prongs on each side of his horns and we wanted to protect him.  When deer season came along that fall, Dad got a big piece of red cotton cloth and tied around his horns so he had a big red bonnet.  It saved his live for that year, at least.

The habit of having a pet deer continued down through Virgene’s teen age years as well.

George Bronson Family Memories

In the Deseret News on November 4, 2010, we ran across the obituary of Mary Lou Bronson Salter Galer.  It included the following paragraph of her birth and younger years: “Mary Lou was born April 30, 1926 at the E. Y. Ranch near Almo, Idaho to George William Bronson and Luella Jones She was the third of seven children.  She grew up in a log cabin and endured many hardships as a child with her family in the mountains of Southern Idaho.  Through this difficulty she learned to be courageous and was loyal to the end.” 

It went on to tell of her accomplishments in life after moving with her family to Salt Lake in 1940.  Our thoughts turned back to the years that the family lived in Moulton, on the north corner of the road next to the school and were our friends.  Dwain, Doug and I reminisced yesterday of those days long ago.  Dwain remembered the day of his baptism at the Lynn Reservoir as he was joined for baptism by cousin Lucille, Mary Lou Bronson and her cousin Patty Lee Updike.  The Bronson family attended church with us at the Junction School.  George was a counselor in the Bishopric with Uncle Laurence as Bishop and Uncle Vance the other counselor.

I recalled the summer that the older Bronson girls decided that the Lind boys needed some “culture” in their lives.  Mother would drive Eldon and I down to the Lynn School.  Mary Lou taught us tumbling, bringing the mattresses from their beds to serve as mats.  Georgie Gay taught us tap dancing.  Doug doesn’t remember the dance lessons, but told of often attending the dances at the Moulton school and recalled that the Bronson girls could really dance.  Sometimes the dances were held at the Junction School.  We talked of the little local group who furnished the music.  The musicians included the Lloyds, George Bronson playing the violin and Chester Bullers who was known as the left handed fiddle player. Mother and Laura Pearl Bronson played the piano with the group.  Their music was great to dance to.  Laura Pearl always said her goal was to play the Tabernacle organ in Salt Lake City some day.

The Bronson Family were all girls and our family was mostly boys and we “ kind’a got paired up”.  VaLois was the oldest then Laura Pearl and Oscar, Mary Lou and Dwain.  Georgie Gay was paired with Doug and I “inherited” Ethel May.  George mentioned to Dad one day about the possibility of the union of the two families in marriage and Dad commented that that should be left up to the kids themselves, and it was.  One son was born on the end of the Bronson family and they named him Simon William Brennon Bronson.  We called him “SWBB” for short.

Mother was the postmistress and had the little post office on our back porch.  George Bronson was the mail carrier.  The mail was delivered three times a week.  George would ride his saddle horse to Oakley to get the mail and return home the first day. The next day he would ride up the valley to Lynn and deliver the mail to Mother, usually arriving “conveniently” just in time for dinner.  In the winter it was a long hard ride in the snow.  He would come into the kitchen and walk across the room and pick up our family hair brush and pull it through his tousled hair.  A thin leather held the wire bristles in place, but they layed down under the pressure of your hand.  Doug told that one winter day we decided that we needed to fix the brush “so it would get his attention.”  We set about to fix it by replacing the thin leather with a heavy piece that would hold the metal bristles erect.  We then waited for George to arrive on his next visit and to do his customary hair brushing.  He picked up the brush and brought it down applying the customary pressure which suddenly brought tears to his eyes.  The next time he used it he put it on his head very gingerly.  It became known as "George’s brush" after that. 

Doug remembered the Bronson family was having trouble with a leaky roof.  So they put a thin layer of cement on the shingles and that fixed the leaking problem.

The Bronson family left Moulton in 1940 and we lost track of them.  I remember Luella Bronson payed us a visit one time with her daughter, Ethel who had married.