Dig It

Mikayla brought her rock collection to show me. She has a good eye for beautiful specimens of common stones. She loves geology. I thought it might be fun for her if we conducted an archaeological dig in the backyard. So we built a simple soil sifter from spare lumber and wire mesh, like the ones I made for fossil sieving in days of yore. We chose an empty plot of ground beyond the corn, dug a shovel's worth, dumped it in the sifter and shook out the dirt until only rocks and other things were left. To our surprise and gratitude, we enjoyed immediate success. There were Native American artifacts on the screen! Pieces of corrugated pottery and chipped agate, proof positive that Indians once stood in my backyard. We continued and found more artifacts, together with an old penny and a button. Mikayla said, "Grandpa, this is addictive, because you never know what the next shovel full will have in it." And we never know what the next hour or day will uncover in our lives. We keep digging.

Hens Again

Three new layers of responsibility were added to my life yesterday. (Puns are always intended here). Our friends, Kelly and Eileen Rogers, who raise chickens in Clay Springs, AZ, brought us a gift of three hens. We have missed the amusement of backyard poultry since Henny Penny was repossessed, but that's a tale for another time. We opened the cage in which they were transported and gave them the freedom of our large, fenced yard. They didn't know what to do with their newfound independence, congregating most of the day near the gate. Our initial attempts to herd them to the Chicken Catchatorium, where they'll have plenty of egg-room, and acquaint them with their new home were unsuccessful. They are so fast and elusive! My hens of days-gone-by would run to me and stand on my feet, making it easy for me to pick them up. These have been suddenly thrust into unfamiliar territory and are, in a word, perplexed. By the grace of good friends and other mysterious powers, they have been spared the cruelty of the butcher's blade and placed on permanent vacation at St. Holiday's Chicken Resort. Their henherd is a vegetarian, so they are in Fat City. If I can protect them from the large hawks, they will have a free-ranging, bug-rich life of chicken felicity.

Big Eyes and her family came to visit from the valley yesterday on the Day of Chicken Deliverance. She and Dave and Mikayla and the Lovely One and I were given quite a run-around last sunset, as we tried to chase down the hens and put them in the Catchatorium for the night. There was lots of leaping and lunging and grabbing and missing. We caught them one by one after much exertion and heavy-breathing. It was almost the death of the Ancient One. After all the running around, the hens will probably lay scrambled eggs today.

They don't have names yet. Each is a different variety, but they huddle together as friends.

The Lovely One is in charge of chicken appellation and photography. My job is to feed them, to water them, to protect them and otherwise look to their health and welfare, and to come running at their every peck and caw. I am their servant.

Araucana

Barred Rock Hen

Pearl-White Leghorn

The Golden Plates of Mycerinus

There is a footnote on page 15 of The Book of the Dead, as translated by E. A. Wallis Budge (copyright 1960 by University Books, Inc.), which has stirred a variety of emotions in me over the years, since Hugh Nibley first brought it to my attention. I do not know if the passage is credible; I have not found anything to corroborate it; I have not read anything that disputes it. Here is the account:

"The Arabic writer Idrisi, who wrote about A.H. 623 (A.D. 1226), states that a few years ago the "Red Pyramid," i.e., that of Mycerinus, was opened on the north side. After passing through various passages, a room was reached wherein was found a long blue vessel, quite empty. The opening into this pyramid was effected by people in search of treasure; they worked at it with axes for six months, and they in great numbers. They found in this basin, after they had broken the covering of it, the decayed remains of a man, but no treasure, excepting some golden tablets inscribed with characters of a language which nobody could understand. Each man's share of these tablets amounted to 100 dinars."

If this account is accurate, can you imagine what treasures of truth may have been etched onto those plates of gold! Mycerinus is the Greek name of the Old Kingdom Pharaoh Menkaure, the builder of the smaller of the three great pyramids on the Gizeh plateau. It is believed that he ruled for 18 years, beginning in 2490 BC. I think that is about 200 years too early, but that's for another article. Nonetheless, Menkaure would have been alive during the days of Noah. I don't think it is beyond reason to believe that copies of the uncorrupted scriptures, preserved by the patriarch Noah, were carried down into Egypt by Menkaure's Hamitic ancestors. He may have possessed them. However, I don't know what was written on the plates. I have wondered what kind of literature would be considered so valuable as to be inscribed on plates of gold and laid up in the Pharaoh's tomb. I wish leaden plates had been used instead. Perhaps then, the temptation to exploit them for their metallic value would not have been so irresistable. I read history and wrestle with 'what might have beens.'

Lucy Hutchinson Van Sciver

Two weeks ago, the Lovely One and I were researching the family of Isaac Van Sciver, born in New Jersey in 1793. On 28 Sep 1816, he married Lucy Hutchinson in Gloucester County, New Jersey. Lucy was born in 1796 in New Jersey to "parents of foreign birth." Thus far, we have discovered four children for Isaac and Lucy, namely, Jeremiah, Emily, Elizabeth and Isaac, Jr. I have a feeling there are more.

I did a routine Google search for Lucy Hutchinson, hoping that some other family historian had posted biographical information about her. Lo and behold, there was a message posted about four years ago by Marge Rice of Joliet, Illinois, stating that she had an old photograph of Lucy in her possession and wanted to reunite it with her family. I thought, "four years ago; someone else probably contacted Marge Rice for the photo by now. And maybe Marge's email address has changed." I decided to send her an email anyway, because one never knows for sure until one tries. Well, Marge Rice wrote me back right away with the good news that she still had the photo and would be happy to send it to me for a nominal price, enought to cover her costs! The Lovely One and I were delighted to be sure, and we sent a check to Marge right away.

Today, the picture arrived in the mail. It was taken around 1860 at the Benjamin Lochman Photographic Gallery in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Marge purchased it from an antique dealer in Georgetown, Texas about 6 years ago. Marge Rice is a remarkable lady, who makes a hobby of reuniting old photos with their families. According to an article about her, which she sent with the photo, she has sent over 1,332 photos to 969 people since 2000. The gratitude expressed by the families, who receive these wonderful images, fills her with happiness. Now I have custody of this unique treasure.

We still have searching to do on this family. Lucy died sometime before 1880, because her husband Isaac is described as a widower on the 1880 census of Camden, New Jersey. But now, thanks to the kindness and thoughtfulness of Marge Rice, I can connect an image with the name of Lucy Hutchinson Van Sciver.