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Show A8 Sanpete Messenger/Gunnison Valley Edition Wednesday, October 10, 2007 Definitely not the Colonel’s Chicken—Oink, Oink Lately I’ve related two anecdotes from my exceptionally brilliant career as a chicken farmer. If you missed out, go to www.sanpetemessenger.com/lifestyle_clbeck.html to read them online. It was during that hen-filled stint that some bright person gave the suggestion we should also raise pigs. The idea was so enticing that I talked my husband, Russ, into trying it. ********** “What shall we call them?” I asked, watching our new little pigs in their pen. Russ grinned mischievously. “How about naming them PorkChop, Ham-Hock, and Bacon?” I grimaced, covered the ears of our three-year-old and whispered to Russ, “Be careful what you say; Davey doesn’t know we’re going to eat them eventually.” Russ whispered back, “When were you planning on telling him—as Pork-Chop was sitting on his plate?” “Obviously before that,” I said, releasing our squirming son. We watched the oinkers rooting around. Snorts of discovery echoed through the barn. Davey spoke, “We could call them the Three Little Pigs.” I smoothed the blonde cowlick on his head and said, “That’s a story, Sweetie. It’s not really a name.” The silence stretched between us as we pondered other ideas. Russ fidgeted, apparently tired of taxing his brain with pig names. “I still think that Pork-Ch—“ “—How about Winken, Blinken and Nod? That’s cute,” I said. Davey nodded his agreement. Russ raised his eyebrows and stated, “That’s a bedtime story about kids going to sleep.” “Pigs have to sleep, too, you know.” I harrumphed, waiting for a better suggestion. Silence reigned. A mouse stuck its nose from under the water trough and then dashed for the feeder. Winken—or maybe it was Blinken; it’s very hard to tell three pink pigs apart—scrambled over, snatched the mouse and gulped it down before I could cover Davey’s eyes. “Look, Mommy, the pig ate a mouse,” he said. “Uggg,” I said. “Cool,” Russ said. “Cool,” Davey echoed. And to think I was worried about his tender sensibilities. My pig manual stated the animals were as smart as dogs. It was true. It didn’t take the porkers long to realize that when we picked up the trough, mice scrambled from beneath. The pigs dashed about, snorting and slurping down rodents. Hearing the ruckus, the cat slunk in. Apparently, oinkers have the ability to extrapolate information. They eyed the cat hungrily. From then on we kept the cat out of the barn. One day an idea hit. “Why don’t we teach them to come to a whistle?” Russ shook his head in disbelief. “You fed the chickens oatmeal and hotdogs. And tried to herd grasshoppers to them.” “You told Daddy about herding the hoppers,” I accused, looking at Davey. He shrugged and grinned. Russ continued, “The neighbors already think our grain elevator doesn’t go to the top. Now you want to train pigs to a whistle?” “It might come in handy.” “I’m sure. Maybe we could use them as substitute hunting dogs, too.” Russ replied. Months later, we got a phone call. “Your pigs are loose.” We hopped in the car and sped down the road to the next farmhouse. On arrival, we bailed out. There stood Winken, Blinken and Nod, munching ripe strawberries from the patch. “Here piggies, nice piggies,” I called. They ignored me. “Here piggies, stupid piggies,” Russ said. For obvious reasons, they ignored him. He watched the pigs with their berry-red lips and dirt-blackened snouts. “How’re we going to get them home?” “Herd them,” I suggested. Russ replied, “That’ll work about as well as a grasshopper roundup.” Then it came to me. I gave their food whistle and all three turned with a grunt. They waddled over and stuck their snouts in the air, sniffing for scraps. Probably oatmeal or hot dogs. Russ said, “Walk back with them and we’ll follow in the car.” I nodded and started down the road, whistling. Three 100-pound pigs trooped behind in a line, snuffling and snorting all the way home. It was my agricultural moment of triumph. I’ll freely admit to everyone—except Russ—that when it came to chickens, I was no Colonel Sanders. But hey … when it came to pigs, I was the best pied piper in the county. c 3’-0 Coverage Earth Brown x Evergreen x Barn Red Sandstone x White x Blue 85 South 1350 East • Lehi, UT Terry, Nalisa, Nathan (9), Emilie (12), Justin (16), Trish (18) and Tylek (15) Bradley of Manti have turned endurance horse racing into a family affair and have earned national awards for their skills. A lifetime of sport Manti’s Terry Bradley finds endurance racing a valuable family activity after searching for a ‘lifetime sport’ By Eric Probasco Staff writer MANTI—Terry Bradley credits Manti High School basketball and tennis coach and Utah Sports Hall-of-Fame inductee Wilbur Braithwaite with turning him on to endurance horse racing. “I don’t remember the setting,” says Bradley, “but he told a group of us students, ‘you need to find a lifetime sport. Basketball is not it. Football isn’t it. Wrestling isn’t it.’About that time, in the early 80s, I went to watch the Hell’s Kitchen ride. There were participants of all ages, but the leaders of the pack were in their 60s. I thought, ‘this is my lifetime sport.’” Make that lifetime sport a family sport. Terry and his wife, Nalisa, met through their mutual love of horses, though she didn’t have much experience with them. It was initially hard for her to learn racing. “I wasn’t a good rider,” she says. “I had bleeding saddle sores, and I would wrap them and go again. I wouldn’t let Terry know because I didn’t want him to tell me I couldn’t ride.” Terry and Nalisa are now busy raising five children: Tricia, Justin, Tylek, Emilie and Nathan, ages 9 to 18, all of whom have won national titles in endurance racing. “My kids all started riding competitively at 6 or 7,” Terry says. “They start on 100-mile rides between 9 and 11. The beauty of this sport is that it allows individuals and families to compete together— not just to go out on a joyride but to set a goal and then go after it.” You might think that Terry arrived in this world on a saddle, but he was born into a horseless family. His father bought him his first horse when he was 5, but he couldn’t afford a saddle. “I learned to stay on because the alternative hurt,” he says. Terry estimates that Utah is second only to California in terms of absolute numbers of endurance horse races. Competitions are held at Antelope Island, Bryce Canyon, St. George, Mount Carmel, Strawberry Reservoir, the old Pony Express Trail and Canyonlands National Park. The Hell’s Kitchen Ride from Gunnison is one of the longest running endurance horse races in the nation. The Bradleys became personally familiar with most of Utah’s long horse trails last year, when they decided to go after the American Endurance Ride Conference (AERC) family award. The only qualification for participation was a parent and a dependent child. (See “Endurance” on A10) ‘Porter Rockwell Returns’ Snow professor brings history to life with one-man play By John Hales Managing editor EPHRAIM—Snow College professor Larry Anderson’s oneman play “Porter Rockwell Returns” comes back to the stage for two nights this week in final farewell performances. Anderson first produced the play in 1986, performed it about 50 times over the following three years, and then put it away for nearly 20 years until his daughters convinced him to perform it one more time, since they had never seen it. “I’m going to bring it out for one year, get it on video, and then I’m not going to do it anymore,” Anderson said this week. In the play, Anderson portrays the legendary Mormon historical figure Porter Rockwell, the bodyguard to Joseph Smith referred to as the “Destroying Angel of Mormondom.” Anderson says the play “paints an entertaining but accurate picture of [Rockwell’s] adventures, hardships and moral dilemmas. Rockwell on stage is sure to capture one’s imagination of a person who fit the time—the Wild West.” Rockwell holds a singular place in LDS folklore, and through the decades since he lived, fact has become mingled with much fiction regarding the man that some consider a hero, others a renegade. Few people, except perhaps Joseph Smith himself, have been described by people in ways as contrary to each other as Rockwell has been. On one hand, he has been described as a rough-and-tumble, gun-toting quasi-outlaw. On the other hand, says Anderson, “In reality Porter was described as charming, polite, and cordial—it just wouldn’t feel that way if you were on the other end of his gun.” It is that confusion about Rockwell, along with Anderson’s insistence on an accurate portrayal, that will make the two performances this week—one at Snow College on Thursday, and the other on Friday at the Moroni Opera House—the last performances ever, even though Anderson has had offers from others to purchase the rights to perform the play. “It’s too easy to portray Porter Rockwell as a caricature for entertainment, rather than for historical portrayal,” says Anderson, and a historically accurate portrayal is what Anderson has been after ever since he first got the idea of the play. “I was working on a master’s degree in communication in LDS history [at BYU] in 1985,” he says. “I saw a one-man play by James Arrington called ‘Here’s Brigham,’ and I decided ‘I can do that,’ but I wanted to pick somebody who’s very colorful. Immediately, Porter Rockwell came to mind. “I read everything I could, and researched everything I could, and wrote it after graduating. I first performed it in 1986 while teaching at Dixie College. “It was reviewed by some experts, and it is thought to be accurate. All of my props are historically accurate, as are my costume and weapons. Some of the props are from 1840; they are the real thing,” Anderson says. Anderson will perform the play Thursday evening at the Snow College Eccles Center for the Performing Arts at 7:15 p.m. On Friday, the play will be presented and video-recorded at the Larry Anderson as Porter Rockwell in his one-man play. Moroni Opera House, also at 7:15 p.m. Tickets are $8 for either performance, and children under 12 are not allowed due to some violent content, which Anderson says cannot be separated from any accurate picture of Rockwell. Anderson also warns audiences that there is some gunfire in the play, though no actual bullets are used. Tanker (Continued from A1) third baffle exploding. Following that explosion, the firemen were finally able to get the blaze put down. The fire burned for more than five hours before it was extinguished. The accident caused S.R. 28 to be closed in the area for more than six hours. Traffic was diverted away from the scene via a dirt road west of the highway to Clarion and then around to either Fayette or Gunnison. EMS workers inspected the scene before allowing state road workers to begin some temporary repairs. A crater left in the road was filled with road base, and further repairs will be completed on Monday. The trailer was a total loss, with only the back portion of the tank and the axles remaining. LOCALIZE T HE W ORLD W IDE WEB BannerAd Network Are you advertising in markets that are doing you no good? 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