When we were picking chokecherries down by the river last week, we just about got ‘dusted’; a little yellow crop duster plane went right overhead, and released its cargo on the field that the car was parked next to. A few days later, we saw the duster again, while we were picking berries again, on another canola field, closer to our house – the day we also saw the bear tracks.
Turns out, the air strip is a few miles west of our house, so when he’s spraying fields east of here, he flies right over our backyard. The plane sounds just like something out of a WWII movie, and flies very low. This has led to some interesting conversations.
Hubby has taken to adding sound effects when the plane goes overhead: “Ratta-tat-tat“, he adds the imaginary gunfire, as the plane strafes the house. “Okay, Calvin,” I respond, thinking of a certain cartoon boy who also happened to have an over-active imagination.
A couple of evenings ago, the duster was actually spraying a field right across the road from us. After the initial “ratta-tat-tat“, there was a second pass, then a third.
“They’re onto us,” Hubby cried, “Quick! Hide the Jews!”
I was laughing so hard, I struggled to get my camera out of its case – I wanted a photo of that plane barely clearing our roof. Meanwhile, dinner was on the stove; cornmeal biscuits, fresh out of the oven, and we were halfway through frying up bacon and southwestern eggs to go with them. With both of us outside aiming cameras, there was nobody supervising dinner, which wound up being a little over-crisp. Unfortunately, we did not get a picture, either, as the plane was on its second-last pass when we finally went out, and by the time we found an angle where a photo would have been possible, he was gone, on to strafe some other unfortunate farmhouse…