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Spring Work

Never before has spring arrived so early in the Tiger Forest as it did this year. But an early spring also means busy days – mouse control must be carried out! After the snow melted, labyrinths of mouse tunnels appeared all over the property. Everything had to be inspected – from the fields to the shed walls.

Mum was busy with her annual project: moving last year’s leaves from one side of the property to the other. Surely the most boring pastime of the year. You’d think she had more important things to do.

The highlight of the season – maybe even the whole year, at least for some of us – is preparing the small patch of farmland. Potatoes, carrots, lettuce, and other green goodies are to be planted there.

Mum had mentioned that the chicken coop needed to be cleaned out for fertilizer. Kasper took the hint and made a generous contribution right next to the wheelbarrow – freely available, in his opinion. That kind of fertilizer could surely work well for both potatoes and salad, he thought, as he emptied his entire spine in the process.

But Mum? She simply shoveled it all up and hauled it off – along with piles of leaves – to the far end of the property. Now the whole Tiger Forest smells like good old-fashioned muck spreading.

On her way back, she stopped by the car and picked up a bag of newly purchased seed potatoes. Odin trotted happily beside her toward the field. It was time for this year’s potato planting.

Meanwhile, Kasper had enthusiastically started watering heavily in a self-dug hole between the first two rows. “Here come the marinated potatoes,” I thought, comfortably settled in a camping chair with a perfect view of the potato chaos.

Little Jonatan had never experienced anything like this – not even close. Small round potatoes that rolled when he gave them a gentle slap. Or ones he could flip out of the box with a claw, straight into Odin’s paws before they rolled too far.

Those two rascals caused such a commotion that the neatly arranged rows of potatoes were quickly transformed into one big, flat double bed.

But the rows were re-established, and the first box yielded three tidy lines of potatoes. Mum stood up, brushed dirt and sand from her knees, took off her gloves, and looked very pleased. I washed my paws and leaned back in my chair. Someone had to supervise, and that someone happened to be me – Chief Cat Jesperpus.

Kasper, on the other hand, sat like a sentry on the fence surrounding the field – the very one meant to keep out hares, deer, badgers… and a certain potato-loving dog named Odin.

Jonatan sat in the middle of the field beside the now-empty box.

“Going to get the rest of the potatoes,” Mum mumbled as she passed me, disappearing in the direction of the house. And she was gone for a while. Most likely there was a cup of tea and a little snack involved too.

Yes, much too long, thought Odin the potato-nibbler.

Which meant, of course, it was time for Odin’s own project.

He’s currently training to become a search-and-rescue dog – entirely self-initiated, it seems. And that nose? It can find anything.

In Mum’s absence, he launched a brand-new mission: potato search. He sniffed out potatoes that had been properly planted and was no doubt convinced that tonight would be full of dancing, medals, and standing ovations for his efforts – complete with a potato rosette.

Jonatan found the whole thing absolutely thrilling – dirt flew in every direction, and potatoes soared through the air. Some became mashed potatoes, others turned into rustic fries.

Finally, some proper action in the field! Sitting right behind the earth digger, looking like a tiny mole, only made it more fun for Jonatan.

Kasper stretched out along the top of the fence, and we seasoned veterans instantly understood what was about to happen.

Mum would be back soon – with the last, literally last, box of seed potatoes.

When she rounded the corner and spotted the potato excavator and his little mole assistant in full swing, all we heard was a long sigh. Odin, the self-proclaimed potato detective, looked absolutely thrilled with his own performance – so many potatoes sniffed and unearthed in record time!

Apparently, Mum had snuck a piece of chocolate while inside, because she took it all suspiciously calmly.

But she found Odin’s ball by the front door and calmly placed it on the driveway.
With a dramatic sprint from the hallway – and a screech and penalty kick that not even the football club Glimt goalie could’ve saved – we watched the red ball disappear over the treetops toward the state of Pisis – somewhere way beyond Mississippi. Probably in Sweden. At least.

Odin vanished for a long time – long enough for Mum to replant the entire last box of potatoes and tidy up the mess from the potato disaster.

Odin eventually returned, still with his Norwegian passport.

So now we wait and see what actually grows – potatoes or potatis... or if anything grows at all.