About four years ago I was working on a landscaping project on a horse farm in West Tisbury. Word quickly spread around the farm that a horse had lain down and died in its stall that morning. There was somberness in the air on that hot summer day, with the humidity promising a thunderstorm in our near future. Horses are not small creatures, and a front-end loader was brought in to extract the animal from the barn. The scene became quite loud as chains were rigged this way and that and the engine on the machine was revved for more power.
Chris Fischer
2012
June 28, 2012
Being in love is like eating lobster on the beach as the sun sets over the ocean on a cool evening in July.
June 14, 2012
I live with my 97-year-old grandmother Rena in the farmhouse she bought with my grandfather in 1963, as a place for them to retire.
May 24, 2012
The best fishing trip I ever had took place about 10 years ago (my, I am getting old) in a canoe launched off of Lucy Vincent Beach.
April 19, 2012
My family has learned how to express love through food. Maybe a little too heavily on the food side, and we are still learning to express ourselves emotionally, which can lead to a miscommunication or two. Just this morning my father greeted me with oysters while he shucked them with a pocketknife. Almost every time he comes by the farm he has something for me in a five-gallon bucket or one of those orange fish baskets he finds on the beach.
March 15, 2012
Legend has it raccoons were brought to the Island as a front for hunters to, as they say, “jack” deer at night. As the story goes, if a warden caught someone hunting at night, the hunter would claim he was after raccoons rather than trying to stock up on some after-hours venison.
In the long run this ploy did not work out so well for the rest of us. Raccoons tear apart our garbage at night and, more devastatingly, they go after our chickens with reckless abandon.
