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16 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, Sept. 25, 1984 It sure is quiet around the barmyard these days Even the chickens are quieter these days. There's something about the Fall air that puts a muzzle on squawking. Belle (the cat) and Goldie share a snack from the chicken trough, while a fly rests casvally on Goldie's wing. It's what you call togetherness. by Cathy Robb I was supposed to be helping with the chores. My sister was muck- ing out stalls, up to her armpits in horse manure, carping at me to give her a hand. "At least you could feed the chickens or do something useful. Instead of just standing there", she said angrily, pitching a forkful of straw onto an overflow- ing wheelbarrow. But the extra load was more than the wheelbarrow could hold and the whole thing tumbled to the ground. You could probably Always the pest, Junior tugs willfully on Dezi Brown's halter, trying to entice the Morgan into a pre-dinner game. But as An adolescent tabby kitten peers cautiously into the barn's dark gloom, no doubt wondering whether Purina Cat Chow hear the curses in New- foundland. Not impressed with my sister's abuse of the English language, I Taste of Fall's first magic wandered out of the . barn. In a hurry. " The sun was just setting, casting a cold blanket over what was left of the day. You could feel the therm- ometer dropping several degrees all at once, like a kid taking three steps at a time. That special September snap was breathing through the air, sad and invigorating all at once. I shivered and headed up to the house to grab a sweater, but ended up with my camera instead. It's tough to capture the essence of a particu- lar time but some things are just too valuable to be trusted to the vagar- ies of memory. So we use a camera, or a paintbrush, or a poem to stash a particular moment and save it for a rainy day. This evening warrant- ed saving, I thought, watching the animals through my -camera lens. You see, I wasn't the only one who was caught up in the languid twilight of Fall's first magic. The animals sensed the change in weather and moved in a new slowness, uncon- cerned with the camera that followed their pro- gress into the night. The chickens seemed quieter than usual, scratching half-hearted- ly in the dirt. Last spring's batch of tabby kittens were all but grown up, beyond the wrestling and carousing of their younger days. Even the horses were subdued, their breath (Turn to page 17) [YE WA € i. ; > N * ' A : ' Bu ¥ a ; y usval, the little pony colt's efforts are ignored. is worth a trip through the building's inky stillness. mint ----