“Here Nosy….sniff!”
Judson was holding his brother’s, shall we say, “soiled” sweatshirt in front of his new bloodhound puppy’s nose.
Nosy sniffed and sniffed and then barked a very immature sounding bark that would eventually mature into a deep loud one.
Nosy perked up his ears and looked around, then put his amazing nose to the ground and in a crooked, twisting path, sniffed his way to the laundry room and the laundry basket!
Even though none of Judson’s brother’s clothing was actually IN the basket that was “sniffed out” by Nosy, the tracking was deemed a victory.
On subsequent sniffing and tracking tests, Nosy however, was less successful. While attempting to sniff out a previously hidden used sock, Nosy “found” an unhidden plate of dark meat turkey that Judson’s Mom had placed on the table for lunch. Nosy never did find the sock.
On another occasion, Nosy found an opened box of chocolate covered cherries instead of Judson’s Dad’s baseball cap and was a very sick bloodhound puppy all afternoon.
After a trip to the local Veterinarian and a testing of Nostradamus’ olfactory glands (his “smeller”) it was theorized that possibly Nosy was not “all” bloodhound but “could” have a bit of Beagle on his family tree. Not a bad thing, but not bloodhound.
“He may develop a better sense of smell later as he matures, but I wouldn’t count on it!” the Doctor sighed after the exam and test.
Judson was a bit disappointed at the news but vowed to keep “training” Nosy’s scent tracking abilities.
As Nosy grew older and larger, his percentage of “finds” as Judson called them, grew to about 10%.
There were also some unscientific successes which, although Judson considered a “find” his parents did not for the simple reason that food was always involved.
But one morning, a bright sunny day in August, the doorbell rang and when Judson’s Mom opened the door, a policeman was standing there with a torn piece of cloth in his gloved hand.
“M’am, I’m Sargent Cole of the local police department and we are on the lookout for an alleged thief that apparently tore an article of clothing, looks like a piece of shirt, during a small robbery and we were told that you own a bloodhound. Is that true?”
“Ah…why yes we do but you see…”
“GREAT! Can we borrow your dog to possibly track the alleged criminal?”
Judson’s Mom looked at Judson and at Nosy who was wagging his entire body and they both looked so excited that she just replied “Okay!”
Well, to make a longer story shorter, Nosy tracked down the culprit hiding behind a holly bush over in the woods and the Police Department awarded Nosy a special ribbon for “Excellence In Police Work”.
After that, Nosy still wasn’t very successful tracking clothing objects from the family but, even though no one close to Nosy ever said anything to each other, they all felt that it was very lucky that among the stolen items that were taken by the sniffed out crook, was a large box of chocolate covered cherries!

The day started out real nice
I was happy fresh and new
Brightly colored on my shell
That boiling thing was through

I was resting in a basket
With other eggs so fancy
We were placed there very carefully
By our 8 year old named Nancy

We jiggled ’round as we took a ride
To the grassy park in town
Then we each in turn were gently placed
And hidden on the ground

It was very hard to see beyond
Those real high blades of grass
But I felt very comfortable
As the time did pass

Then I heard the squealing children
Getting closer to my place
I saw as some went by me
I even saw their face

But they all passed and let me be
Maybe I’m too small
I have no arms to part the grass
No feet to help stand tall

Then the noises became distant
And soon no more were heard
“Hey anyone… Please find me!”
But I couldn’t speak a word

There was nothing I could do
To make myself be seen
And although I was brightly dyed
I was hidden by grass green

The sun went down and it got cold
And it was growing dark
The happy kids had long since gone
And left me in the park

All the other eggs were warm and safe
And happy they were found I bet
They were comfortable in their new homes
Being treated like a pet

But as I fought to stay upbeat
And pretend I’m in my bed
I spied a pair of familiar feet
“There you are!” my Nancy said

She picked me up and rescued me
She warmed me with her hand
She carried me back home with her
And put me on a stand

“I’m so glad that you weren’t found”
As she smiled and looked at me
‘Cause you’re my favorite one of all
The Easter eggs I see!”

I’ve got a place of honor
On the center shelf
We’re both happy that I wasn’t found
Nancy and myself

Freddy opened his mouth for his morning “ribbit” and absolutely nothing came out. He tried again and again but still…nothing. This had never happened before. Well he couldn’t croak when he was a tadpole, but neither could any of the other tadpoles in the pond.
If a frog can’t croak…well….he might as well be a salamander…not that there’s anything wrong with being a salamander, but Freddy had heard his father’s booming bull frog croak and wanted to be and sound just like him.
Since Freddy was a “wild” frog he wasn’t even aware that veterinarians existed. Frogs, like all animals that live in nature must deal with illness and injuries on their own. Freddy hoped that his voice would return very soon and he tried gargling stream water, but that didn’t help.
Freddie was hoping that none of his pond friends would notice his “not” croaking, but as Sammy slug slithered by he whispered ” What’s a matta…got a frog in yer throat? Hee Hee Hee…..” and he slimed on down the rock on the pond bank leaving his tell-tale track.
“Now everyone’s gonna know that I can’t croak. That Sammy is such a gossipy slug!”
But other pond residents were sympathetic to Freddy’s condition and waved their fins or shook their shells as Tommy the turtle did, but none had a solution for Freddy’s condition.
As Freddy contemplated his next attempt at a cure, an infrequent visitor to the pond a large white swan landed and glided nearby to Freddy. “Oh Miss swan do you know anything about…ah sore throats? I noticed that you have a very long neck and so at one time or another you must have….” But the swan held up a black webbed foot, shook her head, then immediately flew off dripping water as she rose into the air, circled the pond, then flew off. At first, Freddy thought that the swan’s actions were very rude, then later he found out from Mr. Mallard that she was actually a “Mute Swan,” and that explained everything!
Then Freddy thought about who would be the smartest, wisest animal he knew, and as he was wondering, he heard “WHO…Wh…WHO…”
It was the barn owl Ollie. Surely he was the smartest animal around the pond. Freddy would ask him. But wait! Owls sometimes liked to dine on reptilians, but Freddy was an amphibian wasn’t he? Just to be safe, Freddy waited until Ollie had finished his dinner or breakfast or whatever it was. You couldn’t be sure with owls, they keep such odd hours.
When Freddy was certain that Ollie was hooting an “after meal” hoot, he jumped around to get Ollie’s attention. After all, he couldn’t yell up at him. It took a while but finally, Ollie saw Freddie and swooped down and landed on the rock next to Freddy’s lily pad.
“What’s up?” asked Ollie wiping his beak off with his left talon. Freddy pointed to his throat and whispered…”I can’t croak….”
“Ummmm…have you tried gargling?”
“Yep!” whispered Freddy.
“Ummmm….well….maybe you could hop over to that house over there, and get onto the back porch. A kid lives there and he’ll want to keep you as a pet, and when he finds out that you are a frog that can’t croak, his Mom will give you human medicine and cure you. Then you can escape back here. Well…see you later!” Then the Owl flew off quickly and silently back up into his tree hollow.
“Pretty smart!” thought Freddy, but then he remembered that his Dad had told him to watch out for humans because some of them eat….Freddy didn’t even want to finish the thought about his frog legs, and decided that Ollie’s suggestion just wouldn’t do.
Freddy also tended to dismiss the suggestions of the nearby squirrels, because he thought they were nuts. A honey bee said that honey was a great treatment for a sore throat, but wasn’t about to give up any in his hive, and Freddy had no way of getting up to the nest anyway.
After about three days of inquiry and contemplation, Freddy was just about to give up and be a “mute” frog…perhaps the world’s first, when Pierre the rabbit hopped by. Freddy was about to ask him about curing laryngitis, but then realized rabbits never talked anyhow, they just wiggled their noses and ears and silence was one of their defenses to predators. Oh yes and a rabbit’s very fast legs too, let them scoot away from danger.
Freddy decided to give his throat just one last try before committing himself to a life of non-croaking, when a faint, and somewhat crackling “Ribbit” emitted from his throat. “Huh?” He tried again and as he kept trying, his voice kept getting stronger and stronger, and soon he was about 95% back to his old croaky self.
All of the other pond animals heard him. Some inhabitants of the pond were happier to hear Freddy return to his natural croaking state than others.
The mayflies, crickets and mosquitoes, were delighted to return to the pond now that they could tell exactly where Freddy was, which let them be sure that they were as far from Freddy as they could get.
“I guess sometimes you just have to let nature take its course!” said Freddy, which of course, it always does. 

“Tommy…it’s time to practice your piano lesson Dear.”
“Aww Mom…can’t I just skip today? I promise I’ll practice twice as long tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid not Tommy….you know the rules.”
“But the guys are having a great neighborhood soccer tournament…and we’ve just GOT to beat those guys from Waverly!”
“You can play AFTER your practice…it’s only for thirty minutes Tommy!”
“It’ll be too late then…AW MOM….PLEASE?”
“Sorry Dear…one day you’ll thank me for insisting that you practice your piano…you’ll see.”

Tommy hung his head and trudged off to the living room and sat down at the piano.”I hate you!” He grunted at the piano making sure not to say it too loudly because he didn’t want his Mom to hear him. Then he banged a D Major seventh chord as hard as he could!
“Ouch!”
Tommy’s eyes grew as big as saucers as he stared at the piano. Then he banged a C Minor chord and heard “Hey…take it easier please.”
“You….ah….can….t-talk?”
“I can complain when I’m struck in anger!”

Just then Tommy heard his Mom yell out to him from the kitchen…”I don’t hear those scales that you are supposed to be playing Tommy. Your thirty minutes doesn’t start until you do!”
“Ah…yes Mom.”

He began playing his practice scales, and after the series of scales and chords in his routine warm-up, he realized that the piano hadn’t “said” another word. As Tommy progressed through his lesson, he started to think that maybe he had imagined the “conversation” that had transpired with the piano. He played “Clair de Lune” for his final practice selection without one error. That had never happened before. “Maybe the piano is…helping me……Naw…that’s crazy!”

“That was beautiful Tommy…I actually had a tear in my eye listening to your playing.” Tommy’s Mom stood at the door to the kitchen smiling wider than Tommy had ever seen her smile.
“Oh great!” thought Tommy…”Now I’ll never be able to give up those stupid piano lessons!”

It was years later when Tommy was sitting in a field box in England watching Manchester United versus the Italian National team playing a crucial soccer game when a young boy came up to him.

“Sir…would you sign my autograph book please. My Mom took me to see your appearance with the London Philharmonic and we have all of your recordings…in fact….I chose to play the piano because of you.”
“Sure son…I’ll be glad to sign your book.”
After signing and watching the boy return to his seat, Tommy turned to the person sitting next to him and said “Thanks Mom!”

I found an old photo in Aunt Edna’s attic. It was a head shot with vertical bar shadows striping the subject’s face but I couldn’t tell if the man pictured was inside or outside of them.
Black and white and yellowed with age it was intriguing to a 10-year-old impressionable boy.
Uncle Phil used to kid me, warning about looking up ancestors because…”There might be a few horse thieves among the family tree branches my boy..especially on Aunt Edna’s “Conrad Family” side!” Then he’d have a big laugh and my Aunt would throw a pillow at him.
But although the photo had been kept among the family albums no one knew, or would at least admit to knowing, exactly who the man in the picture actually was.
The barely legible stamping on the back of the picture read “Argonia Sun imes”. I assumed the “T” that was missing of course, but I couldn’t find any listing of what I guessed was a newspaper, anywhere on the internet.
No one in the family knew what the Argonia Sun Times was either and didn’t even hazard a guess. BUT, they all DID change the subject quickly to..” Want some cookies, just baked ’em?” or “Hey let’s take the Porsche out for a spin. Whaddya say kid?” whenever I brought up the question of who exactly was in that photo.
I looked up Argonia and found a town of 501 population in Kansas but there was no Sun Times.
But one afternoon while Uncle Phil and I were on a “change the subject” Porsche ride he said something that really made me super curious. “My advice is to stay away from that attic kid. Nothin’ good can ever come of it.”
I was startled but I managed to ask “Can’t you tell me anything…I mean ANYTHING?”
He just stared at me for the longest time after he had pulled the car over to the curb.
“There could still be folks that are carrying a grudge about all that stuff back then and it’s best not to stir the pot, so to speak.”
Uncle Phil should never have said that and he knew it but then I saw a very tiny smile at the corner of his mouth and that told me that the man in the photo was definitely related to Aunt Edna’s side of the family!

CHAPTER TWO Investigation

When I included Uncle Phil in my little circle of investigators of missing picture man, the group now included two.
“Don’t tell Aunt Edna that you’re keeping the photo and trying to find out the whole story.” cautioned Uncle Phil.
“Good idea.” Staying positive with Uncle Phil was a must to pursue the investigation.
My first challenge was to find out about the Argonia Sun Times.
I discovered that the Times Sentinel now served the town of Argonia and so I decided to contact the editor about past history which hopefully included old photos and files from the Sun Times.
No luck. Nobody at the Times Sentinel knew anything about the old newspapers of the small towns nearby.
Then a thought hit me. Check the jails and prisons and sheriffs and local police.
After sending a digital picture of the photo to every law enforcement entity that I could find…no luck!
Then I got an email from the Times Sentinel editor John McClellan. He offered to run the photo as a “WHO IS THIS MAN?” article and local contest.
“GREAT!” I responded and told him everything that I knew of the situation.
The prize for successfully identifying the man in the photo was a “Free Night In Jail”. I figured that it was just a joke and it was me who would be the subject of everyone’s laughter.
But I was wrong. The response was overwhelming! 486 citizens offered guesses but no proof until after two weeks one single respondent offered proof of the true identity of the man in my photo.
There was to be a special edition of the newspaper naming the “Mystery Man” and the story behind the photo.
In addition, a picture of the winner would be featured in a headshot with the same shadows of bars across their face.
I was so excited to find out who the man in the photo actually was, but I confess I really did not care who the winner was.
Mr. McClellan sent me a pre-published proof of the feature article naming the man as Jasper Conrad a one-time prison guard and the bar shadowed photo of the winner was a smiling Aunt Edna.

Wally the worm’s North end was arguing with his South end about which way to go. When they both tried to go in different directions at the same time it would stretch Wally’s length almost double. It was a slimming activity but it actually hurt, plus the whole Wally wasn’t going ANYWHERE!
Then the North end of Wally decided to curve to the left and of course, the South end wanted to go…you guessed it….right!
After seven circles both ends realized that neither was getting anywhere again.
“Ok” Wally North said “How about if we go straight left for twenty seconds and then we can go straight right for twenty seconds?”
“Yeah…OK….but me first!” Demanded South.
“Whatever!” hurummphed Wally’s North end.
But after forty seconds Wally was back EXACTLY where he started.
“We’ve got to compromise if we intend to go ANYWHERE!” exclaimed North end.
“Hmmm.” Was all that South end could utter but deep inside he knew North was right.
“OK” South said reluctantly what do we do to get to the mulch pile?”
“I know the way so I’ll take the lead and you can drive the back so that we don’t get whiplash!”
Well, South had to admit that it WAS a plan and he really wanted to get to that mulch pile so he agreed.
And that’s how Wally worm, both the North AND the South of him made a straight line to the mulch pile although South end always referred to it as the “MUNCH pile” which always made North end laugh.

HELLO…Hello…hello…said Echo from the cave

She couldn’t but she wanted to… add a little wave

She also had to always….stay hidden from the view

And never ever speak unless she was spoken to

Though she lived in canyons, chambers and some far off hills

She never started conversations about her life on rocks and rills

Her role was to wait silently…of this she wasn’t fond

Because she had to hold her voice and only could respond

But Echo had a secret that she would never share

She whistles, yells and shouts a lot when no one else is there

Daytime:   Swam around to the left. Swam around to the right. Nibbled some algae off of the green rock. Swam around…(I forget which way.)

Nightime:   Swam a little. Stayed still at the bottom of the deep part of the pond.

Daytime:   Swam around to the right…BACKED UP and then swam to the left. Bumped into the shubunkin…(didn’t see him until too late)

Nightime:   Swam a little. Stayed still at the bottom of the deep part of the pond. Looking forward to Daytime.

“EIGHT…Where is EIGHT?. This is getting to be too much of a habit with him!” exclaimed NINE.
“I am ONE that agrees TWO!”
“That’s spelled Too ONE!”
“This is the FIFTH or SIXTH time he’s either been out of order or not here at all!” said FOUR!
“That makes THREE of us that agree TWO!”
“EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT!” That’s the SEVENTH time I’ve called him with NO ANSWER!” Grumbled NINE.
“Hey…is anyone lookin’ for me?” asked EIGHT.
A number of numbers all yelled “NOOOOOO!!!”
So EIGHT left and all the numbers that were trying to line up accomplished exactly ZERO!

A hummingbird was humming around

Making his smooth humming sound

While the canary was singing

Dulcet tones his throat bringing

Neither aware that the other’s around

Then the hummingbird sat on a limb

And the canary looked over at him

“Pardon me Chum Aren’t you the guy that can hum?”

“Yes and you’re the bird that sings on a whim!”

The canary felt somewhat dumb

Admitting that he wished he could hum

“Well I have no choice

I’ve no singing voice…

Oh I wish that I could sing some!”

“I’ll teach you to hum if you teach me to sing”

“Yes think of the joy we could both bring!”

So they each gave some lessons

But ended confessin’

That neither had learned anything!

“I guess I must do and I guess you must too…

Be happy for the talent we’ve got”

“So I’ll sing in the Spring”…

“And I’ll hum everything”…

“Can we be someone else?

“I guess not!”