Author Archives: Kook-Wha Koh

My Little Girl

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What follows is a well constructed memoir piece that looks at the interactions of two people…

 

After several years of marriage, Tim still did not have any children, even though he wished for them.

One day at the Hacienda, a Mexican restaurant, Tim and I had a quick lunch. He had a chimichanga and mine was a chicken dorito with cherry flavored Mexican tea. We tried to solve the world’s problems over lunch: dope issues of the world famous cyclist, Lance Armstrong, stock market crashes, General Motors’ troubles and Chrysler’s bankruptcy.

“I got a little baby girl,” Tim mentioned, changing the subject from gloomy world issues to family affairs.

It was hard for me to understand what he meant. He never mentioned that his wife was pregnant. When he showed affection for children and wanted to have his own kids I asked him if there was a possibility of a pregnancy soon. “My wife can no longer have a baby.” Now, clearly I was told he has a baby girl. What should I say?

“Umm, umm, congratulations,” murmuring and hesitating, I sipped my cold tea to wash down my throat and thinking what “little girl” means. I was digesting the words, “my little girl”.

His wife cannot get pregnant and so they adopted the girl? I changed the subject from “my little girl” to the stock market and told him I bought Ford stock at $1.80 per share about a year ago at the bottom price. Now it is $6. I always brag about the $1.80 per share of Ford stock, even though I bought very few shares, and also do not say that I bought it at a much higher price on other occasions. I am like the gambler who told us all the time about his winnings and never told us about his losses.

“Great! You made lots of money. A rich person like you gets richer and richer, just like the song says, ‘The rich get richer and the poor get children.’”

Tim’s serious facial expression indicated he wondered why I did not ask more questions about the girl. On my side, in order to continue our conversation, I had to buy time to think about what to ask. Avoiding his curious look, I continued, “Not really. The break even point is about $13, long way to go.” I stopped for a few minutes to talk. After washing down my food I continued, “Did you adopt her, where is she from and how old is she?”

He was quite still and yet I continued, “Adoption is not easy and takes time and money. I have heard there is lots of aggravation and you need a great deal of patience. Years ago many Korean babies came to the US through adoption.”

Tim’s face was frozen like an iceberg and I wondered if I said something terribly wrong. In order to thaw an awkward moment I wanted to change the subject to the lubricant industry trends that are our mutual interest: restricted raw materials from the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and environmentally friendly products.

Abruptly he spat out the word “Hedgehog”. In a moment he continued. “The little girl is a hedgehog.”

“Hedgehog.” I repeated exactly what he told me and repeated again, “Hedgehog?”

“We bought a hedgehog at a pet store. It’s a girl and it’s our baby.” Tim concluded his formal announcement.

I had never heard of “hedgehogs” and never saw one. Tim caught my lack of knowledge about hedgehogs and quickly took out the picture of his baby, “hedgehog”.

Ha, ha. Oh my gosh, I told myself, but I was afraid he might hear my voice.

I was totally lost. A hedgehog is a pet. Unbelievable. It cannot be a pet. We left the restaurant and he was so happy about having a pet hedgehog. In contrast, my mind was full of questions about her. What is a hedgehog?

The next day I asked Patti, my secretary, to pull information from Google about “hedgehogs”. Patti printed pictures, some stand up with rabbit’s eyes, black mouth and pink clothes and ribbons in their hair and others just sit absentmindedly.

It is amazing that she wears pink clothes.

My head was spinning with unbelievable issues. I was incapable of thinking and I had very little energy left to talk to myself. It is just my ignorance.   As a pet, people own alligators, snakes, cubs and others. This is not new. It is only new to me.

“Tim, the hedgehog, what is she eating, like table food or pet food?” I asked Tim the following week over coffee. I had been holding my curiosity for a whole week.

“Oh no. She likes hamburgers and fries from White Castle.”

“Umm,” I sighed. I simply did not know what to say for a moment. I was totally lost for words, however, I was glad that at least the hamburgers and fries were not from McDonalds, which is my favorite place to get senior’s coffee, $0.65 per small cup.

“She sleeps between my wife and me, just like our little baby,” Tim continued in an exceptionally good mood.

Again I was quiet and busy looking for words to continue our conversation. Finally before our chat ended, I told him my story. “I did not have any pets in my life. Oh, I take that back. When I was in Korea our family had a watchdog for the family, not a special breed. He ate leftover food from the table and slept in the yard. We never allowed him to sleep inside the house, even during the coldest winter.” I continued, “Since I came to the USA I have four children and it was enough for me to take care of them. Actually five, including the big boy (my husband).”

“We might need a watchdog to prevent intruders when we move to the house on 20 acres of land that is isolated from the city,” I finished.

“Um. No, no. A dog cannot protect you from a thief. An alarm system is much better protection than a dog against a robbery” was Tim’s suggestion.

A couple of weeks later we sat over coffee again and the usual business items were discussed. Because of my lack of knowledge about hedgehogs, I was holding off the conversation about his little baby girl. But Tim could not keep quiet and was eager to update me about her activities.

“I thought the hedgehog felt lonely and in order to give her company we bought five small goldfish for her, but unfortunately, a couple of days later they all died. My wife’s sadness almost made her pass away,” he continued. “Kook-Wha, as you know, usually a frog lives longer than a fish, so I bought four African frogs from a pet store at $1.99 each after the fish died.”

I thought, Tim is taking care of the hedgehog’s loneliness by buying fish or frogs? I could not understand this, even if I died one hundred times and lived again one hundred times.

Tim’s enthusiasm would not let up, “A couple of days later, somehow two frogs did not have energy and stayed at the bottom of the aquarium while two were swimming around the five gallon tank.” I was just listening, listening and listening. My confusion about hedgehogs, fish and frogs was so great that I wondered whether I was living on earth or in outer space. “You know, Kook-Wha,” “Um um” was my expression. “I was terribly afraid that they would all die in the tank and so I picked them up and put them into a jar and threw the jar into the garbage dumpster in our apartment complex.”

I thought that really made sense and I told myself, Excellent job, Tim. “Tim, the hedgehog cried?” Finally there was room in my brain and I asked him with a big smile on my face.

“Kook-Wha, that is not the end. I thought of everything to take care of it. It was last night when I threw the jar with the frogs into the dumpster. I was happy that I would not have any more headaches about frogs.”

“Then?” I interrupted.

“I got a phone call at my office this morning from the veterinarian and my wife.”

“The hedgehog is sick?” I questioned him with surprise and anxiety.

“No, not the hedgehog. She is doing well.”

“Then what?” I could see his frustration and he had a couple more sips of his coffee that was getting cold and he was trying to organize his thoughts.

“I thought my wife did not know I threw the frogs away in the dumpster. The next morning she found the jar in the dumpster and warmed it with a blanket around the jar, because the frogs were from Africa, and then she went to the vet.”

I was frustrated more than Tim by controlling a burst of laughter or a mixture of strange feelings about unbelievable animal lovers’ behavior.

“The vet will charge me $2,500 for each $1.99 frog.”

“Tim, maybe just $25.00. It cannot be $2,500.00,” I comforted him.

Tim’s anger was at the breaking point, and I thought he might break the table, but he kept himself well under control. Tim did not mention the vet’s diagnosis or what the doctor told his wife. The vet running around the clinic table working on the frogs was beyond my imagination.

Tim has a very nice Harley Davidson motorcycle and whenever he has time, he rides his bike to Alaska or Tennessee from Indiana. That is one of his hobbies. When he and his wife go on summer vacation riding on the bike with the hedgehog, naturally they will put her in a small basket and have a wonderful ride.

“Kook-Wha, we will take the hedgehog when we go on vacation.”

“Sure.” No doubt, I agreed.

“My wife put her in a chest by wrapping her in a blanket.” My mouth dropped open waiting for his next sentence.

One week after the fish and African frogs were gone without becoming friends with the hedgehog, Tim bought two lobsters, blue and red, in order to eliminate the hedgehog’s loneliness. Tim thought one lobster was not enough, that two would be better. I admired Tim’s tenacity in finding company for his little baby girl.

Last night an e-mail came from Tim. Before I read it, my first instinct was, Oh, no. The lobsters died too? But, actually he made a website of his baby, “hedgehog”. His baby was wearing a pink dress. With perfect round blue eyes, she was looking at me without any fear or curiosity and with extreme happiness. I am looking at her with the exact same feelings, without fear or curiosity.

Orchids

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“Oh, no, the orchids died again.”  I almost cried as soon as I saw the white and purple orchid pots in the gray room.  I threw my heavy winter coat on the kitchen chair and dashed to the orchid pots on the glass table in the middle of the gray room and carefully touched the wide green leaves.

“The leaves are still alive, not dead yet,” I continued, looking at Kwang’s back and his shoulders, and asked his  help.“Then, Kwang, how can I make them bloom again?”

“As you know, you should take care of plants like your baby, especially orchids,” was Kwang’s blunt reply.  I almost exploded at Kwang’s unfriendly response and it ignited my grumpy mood.

“I know, but the two cactus are fine,” I spilled out my emotion with high pitch.  Quietly Kwang disappeared into his library in order to avoid the delicate situation with my emotional climax.

 He did not want to help me?  I was frustrated and it was hard to control my bitter feelings.

At the dinner table I forced a compromise on the issue of the plants with Kwang.  The first one is keeping the fresh flowers on the kitchen table while we are home and adding the silk artificial ones in the living room. Second, the plants inside the house are his responsibility and the rose garden in the back yard is mine.  He had no objection to our negotiations.  But without saying a word, we made an agreement.

“Fresh flowers on the table, it is too much money,” and he continued, “Are you sure?”

I walked away from him without any further comment to avoid more conflict with him.  I got fresh coffee. I knew what he meant and he was showing me again his frugality.

Our friends and children send me flowers for Mother’s Day and my birthdays, but Kwang has never sent me a single stem of a rose for our almost fifty years of marriage.  I have bought fresh flowers for myself from Costco without expecting them from Kwang.

It has been such a joyful and happy moment for me to cut the stems of fresh flowers, smell them and touch them, and put them into vases with bluish copper citrate compound as a preservative.  I put them on the glass table in the living room and I looked at them a while. 

Mm, it’s beautiful and it makes my day, humming around the house.

I don’t need Kwang’s flowers.  He provides me with other things more precious than flowers, I was talking to myself, humming, up and down the stairs.

Last year, a couple of months apart, I received a white orchid from one of my daughters-in-law for Mother’s Day and a purple one from a friend on my birthday.

Both blossoms lasted about two months and then their petals fell down one by one.  And they left only the straight brown stems and two wide green leaves at the bottoms of the pots.

“Kwang, throw the pots away.  They just take up space,” I commanded him when we had warm coffee at the kitchen table while looking at the white snow on the pine trees on the bump through the window.  Kwang was quiet for a moment and then responded, “Remember, my job is to take care of the plants inside of the house”.  I was stunned and speechless. 

That’s right.  We made a deal, I talked to myself and continued, I am so stupid.  Don’t step on his toes, just take care of it yourself.”  I totally forgot the deal that I forced him to make.

I should say to him, I am sorry, it’s none of my business.  I did not say that.  My ego did not allow me to mention it, but quietly I did, Yes I am sorry.

For a couple of months, from Kwang’s dedicated care of these two orchid pots, miraculously they started to bloom again with white and purple blossoms on the kitchen table, even during the Michigan winter.

His technique of success was to pay attention to the orchids constantly by talking with them and breathing the same air with them.

We took the Around the World Cruise in 2011 with Holland Cruise Lines’ ms Amsterdam from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, from January 5 to April 26, 2011.  Just a few days before we left home both white and purple orchids were blooming from Kwang’s engineering mind with precise temperature and humidity control.  I deeply admired his tireless efforts and  determination to achieve his goal, to get the most beautiful blossoms, yet I did not tell him.

On the ms Amsterdam I could see orchid pots on each dinner table and everywhere.  The dangling beautiful orchids flowers were in the library, at the corner of corridors and even in the women’s restrooms.  They had extremely healthy blossoms with supporting stems and wide thick green leaves.  They had small yellow flowers like forsythia in the spring, purple color like azaleas, white like white rose petals on the tables.

Normally, the ship cruised at night and docked at the port the next morning for the variety of excursions in order to observe the unique cultural events in each country.

On sea days, Kwang went to the water color painting class and I went to creative writing.  Many other activities were keeping us busy, such as Tai-Chi, lectures, dance classes, wine tasting and cooking classes.  Neither of us missed attending any Tai-Chi classes or the International Lecture series.

In his water color class Kwang painted the human faces from magazines and the beautiful scenery along the seashores and the rock statues on the shore of Easter Island were magnificent.  He demonstrated his talent perfectly on the paper.

One day he gave me a folder of his painting works including a Valentine card and several of orchids with bright colors.

“Oh, wow, a Valentine’s card.”  It was the first time I ever got a Valentine’s card, or any card from him in my life.

“Tomorrow morning the sun will rise from the west, not the east”.  We both burst out laughing and I said, “Thank you” and gave him a big hug.

“So many orchid paintings?” I asked him.

“One week’s work,” he quietly answered.

It reminded me of our orchids on the kitchen table when we left home in January.  They had beautiful white and purple flowers in each pot.  We were both speechless for a minute.  Kwang might think about orchids at home, too.

“In a couple of weeks our art class will have a silent auction with the paintings”.  I did not understand completely what he talked about, so I was quiet, but he continued, “Each student donates a couple of pieces”.  I was listening and Kwang continued, “The teacher told us it is absolutely voluntary, no obligation,” and he continued, “But I should donate a couple of pieces.”

I was stunned.  I could not agree with him at all.  We needed at least four pieces of his work on this trip to give to each of our children.  “No.  You cannot donate, because we do not have many pieces for our children.”  As usual he was quiet and he went to the sink to clean up his brushes.

The next day I found out that one piece was missing.

“Kwang, the pink orchid piece is not here, in your folder.”

“I donated it to the silent auction event.”

We did not speak to each other for a couple of hours.  I tried to comfort myself and control my anxiety.  The cold war could not thaw for several hours.

“The auction’s purpose is to help an orphanage in the Philippines.”

“You did not tell me.”

“I did not know exactly what the purpose was, and today the teacher told us clearly that this is an annual event on the ms Amsterdam”.

I felt much better than before but we could donate with money instead of his painting.  Two weeks later the paintings were on display on three long tables, about 50 pieces, in the main theater.

“What talent.  Such amazing pieces,” I told Kwang.

“Yes.  Many beautiful pieces were donated.”

“Kwang, I am sorry.  You should donate more, and your paintings of the Easter Island statues and the other scenery were astonishing products.”

“Don’t worry.  We will donate more with money, and then let’s give the rest of my paintings to our children.”

“Thanks.”

His orchid painting was sold for $25.00.

All the money that was raised was donated to the Hospicio de San Jose.

The Hospicio de San Jose (Hospice of St. Joseph) is the first social welfare agency in the Philippines.  It was originally called Hospicio General (General Hospice), The Hospice de San Jose was established in October 1778 by husband-and-wife Don Francisco Gomez Enriquez and Dona Barbara Verzosa with a donation to found the hospice that would take care of Manila’s “poor and unwanted children”, and people who are physically and mentally challenged, and also aging people.

Their goal is to design, develop and sustain innovative programs, services and curriculum to improve the quality of life of the poor.

There was no doubt the spirit of Kwang’s pink orchid was sprawling all over the Philippines and the spirit was embedded into the hearts of the people.

The First Employee at Chrysan Industries

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One Saturday in November 1977, I was bending over the sink in the tiny lab cleaning the beakers for the next experiments.

“Bang, bang.“

Loud knocking sounded on the front door of the plant from outside on Mt. Elliot Street.

Mmm, on Saturday morning?  I wasn’t expecting anyone today.

Wiping my hands on paper towels, I hesitated for a few minutes before opening the door.  Open the door?  No.  Open the door?  No.

The plant was located in the industrial zone on the east side of downtown Detroit.  Even if it was in the industrial area, safety was a big concern.  Recently we had a couple of instances.  One was when I parked the car on the street in front of our building and all the hubcaps were gone in a couple of hours.  Another instance was that a lady’s handbag was snatched by a couple of young men while she was pumping gas into her car at the gas station on the corner of Mt. Elliot St..

“Bang, bang, bang, again.“

I peeked through the small glass window.  There was a man wearing dark navy blue overalls with a brownish straw hat.  Without considering the consequences I opened the door spontaneously.

He introduced himself as soon as he entered the building.  “ My name is Willie Fagan.  Joe Brown, my brother-in-law, told me that you are looking for a worker for the plant.“

What a memory I had!  I was getting old.  I totally forgot that I mentioned to Joe that we needed a cleaning crew at the plant.  The pounding of my heart from fear slowed down and a warm smile spread over my face, and his too.

“Come on in, Mr. Fagan.”

He sat down across the desk from me and I could see his huge dark brown hands with big knuckles.  He weighed over 250 pounds.  His strong body fully occupied the small wooden chair.  He could easily have knocked me down to the floor, if he wanted to.  Even though the rhythm of my heart reduced, the tension between us remained.  He was told by Mr. Brown that an Oriental woman might be his boss, but nothing more than this simple information.

I explained to him about our lubricants business in drums and tankers and that our potential customers could be the auto industry.  In order to avoid contamination of other chemicals, the tools, equipment and containers should be as clean as our kitchen pots and pans.  It seemed that he understood my expectations clearly.  He sat calmly, nodding his head and blinking his big eyes.

“Mr. Fagan, of course, the plant floor would also need to be cleaned,” I added.  Then I gave him information about the wages and continued, “As you know, we are a start-up company and we cannot provide benefits, like health insurance or pension program.”

With a pleasant and unique smile covering his face, Willie said, “Miss Koo the wage is good enough for me.  I do not need any benefits, since I retired from the Chrysler Jefferson Assembly Plant a few months ago”.  For a few moments silence occupied the space, then I told him, “Thank you, Mr. Fagan”.  I was completely comfortable with him and the fear that I had experienced before opening the door had totally vanished.

“Miss Koo, I will keep the tools, equipment and floors as spic and span as your kitchen.’’

He began to work the following Monday as the first employee in Chrysan Industries, Inc.’s history.

Stanley and Lucy

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Spring is the time that the Canadian geese are visiting in the Metro West Industrial Park in Plymouth, Michigan. Since Chrysan has the biggest front lawn on Keel Street in the industrial park, naturally we have more geese as guests who were looking for worms on the lawn. Occasionally I had to make a sudden stop when a flock of geese were crossing from one lawn to another with little goslings. With a “honk, honk” they crossed the busy street without any rush, just waddling.

A lonely goose waddling on the lawn is very rare. They are always in flocks, or at least in a pair, but once I saw one goose alone on the front lawn. Mmm, that cannot happen … just one goose. Talking to myself, I looked around the south end of the building. Following the pair rule, the male goose was heading to the north with the “honk, honk”, thereby telling her he was coming.

“Kwang, geese never travel alone. They are always in groups or at least in pairs.” He was silent without any comment on my observation. He was digesting why I brought up this unusual subject and also calculating what I wanted from him this time. “So, let’s go everywhere together like geese,” I continued without looking at his face. He was still silent with his face down over the Detroit News. I assumed that his ears were filtering what he wanted to hear. “You are silent. Silence means ‘yes’. Let’s go,” I added.

“Where?” finally Kwang broke his silence in surprise.

“To Grandma’s,” I answered with a soft voice, reading his expression. My mother’s grave is on the corner of Novi Road and 12 Mile Road, at Oakland Cemetery. Our family calls it “Grandma’s grave”.

“No”, with strong rejection, and then he lowered his voice one octave, “You go alone.”

“I just explained about geese in pairs theory, going everywhere together.” My voice was almost begging him to go together to Grandma’s. Late afternoon at the end of March the sky was gray … a snowstorm might start any moment instead of rain. It was getting cold and windy. Once a week visit to Grandma’s is one of my regular scheduled stops since 1996 if I am in town. The most powerful geese’s pair theory let Kwang’s heart thaw, or was it my nagging power … and we went to Grandma’s together as a couple before we finished our cups of coffee as geese.

Two years ago a goose was nesting at the south side of our plant. Actually near the loading dock. For Heaven’s sake, why here? There are many other places to make their nest, I murmured with surprise and uneasy feelings. Then I went to Jeff, the plant manager, who was unloading bulk base oil from a tank wagon. “Hey, Jeff, how long has the goose been sitting on the nest without moving or changing position?” When I asked Jeff, my voice was vibrating with a mixture of deep concern and excitement with the goose nesting.

“Oh, no, Kook-Wha, they take turns. The gander is watching the nest very carefully from a distance, and he takes a turn to let her rest.”

“How do you know if it is female or male?”

“Geese are always together as a pair. The gander is protecting the female who is on the nest all of the time.” Jeff’s observation made perfect sense but he forgot my question … how many weeks has she been sitting on her nest?

I could not control my curiosity. I approached the nest closer and closer, and stopped two yards away. Suddenly with a loud “honk, honk” a goose flew down from the sky. Actually, he came from the roof with “honk, honk”, and he was ready to attack me in full force. I ran away from the nest as fast as I could.

Jeff came over and warned me, “See, Kook-Wha, be careful. You may get hurt. Sometimes they can become quite nasty,” he warned me.

Holding my breath, “Yes. I should.” Then I went back to my office without further observation. A cup of coffee helped my disturbed mind to settle down and I sank into deep thought. Why was the gander on the roof?

“Kook-Wha, is something wrong? You look very tired,” Julie, our office manager, asked me with serious concern.

“Nothing. I am fine.”

Julie left my office shaking her head that she could not understand my unusual behavior.

About one month later Jeff ran into my office. He was almost screaming with excitement. “A baby came out. A baby came out.”

“How many? How many?” I screamed back at him.

Jeff did not answer my question but went back to the nest area. With extreme joyfulness, I wanted to follow him and check into it, but instead I calmed down and just waited in my office for further news.

Through the windows I could see the gander standing five yards away from the nest in the middle of the truck driveway with his head up to the sky. “Honk, honk” expressing his excitement. Jeff still did not give me any numbers. The next morning I saw that the gander was still in the same spot protecting the nest.

In the afternoon I heard really loud “honk, honk” through the windows. It echoed a mixture of desperation and misery. Jeff came to me again quite emotional, and upset … “One baby was killed. A truck ran over it. The gander will not move from the spot.” I saw through the window that the gander was flapping his wings and honking. The poor goose, I turned back from the window and wondered how many goslings were left unharmed.

In the spring of 2009, when I came back from the trip in Asia I found a new goose nest this time it was by the flowerbed on the north side of the building which is near the employee entrance under the conference room windows. It was a much safer place than near the loading dock, but it is still a heavy traffic area. The nest was under the tall shrubs and between the hydrangeas and the Christmas poinsettia. In the morning there was nice sunlight and in the afternoon it has reasonable shadows to protect the geese from sunburn. I am not sure whether a goose can get a sunburn.

Again this foolish goose makes a nest near busy traffic. I talked to myself thinking that I hope this time nothing goes wrong and they have a successful hatch.

As soon as I entered my office Bonnie mentioned, “Did you see the nest?”

“Yes. I saw it. How long has the nest been there?”

“About a week,” Bonnie answered with her face full of smiles.

I did not like her answer at all. I wished It is ready to hatch was her answer instead.

“Just one week?” I questioned her, and then I changed the subject, talking about the trip to Asia. I was getting a headache from anxiety and frustration from previous experiences of geese hatching. How can we keep the nest three or four weeks more without any accidents in order to have the goslings born safely.

I took a picture of the goose sitting on the nest from about 5 feet away. She sat calmly without moving her body but her head was moving to the left and right with fear of my approach. You will be okay, I am trying to protect you as much as possible. Hello, goose, do not worry, I promised her.

Soon I heard a “Honk, honk, honk” noise coming from the roof. The goose was looking down at me from above my head on the roof and he was ready to attack me. Oh, my gosh. Again I upset the gander. Hello, gander, I will not hurt your friend. Believe me, I will not.   I took a picture of him on the roof, too and quickly went back to my office. I was relieved that at least he did not jump on me from the roof.

The next day was Saturday. I got to the office later than usual. Oh, no. Oh, my gosh, what happened last night? I screamed and screamed when I saw the broken nest. Luckily nobody was near to hear my screams. One large unbroken egg was about two feet away from the nest and a couple of broken eggs were on the top of the nest. What happened? What happened? I could not control my screaming from desperate anxiety. I phoned Kwang, seeking comfort from him. As usual he was quiet at the end of the telephone. I hung up slowly, trying to forget the broken eggs.

That same day in the evening we had dinner with friends from Carmel, Indiana. They told us an interesting story about Canadian geese that built their nest just under the dining room window again in the flowerbed. They named them Lucy and Stanley. For weeks Lucy sat on the nest and Stanley guarded it. Even if we had the exact same experience twice, we did not make any comment. We just listened to their story with curiosity and thrills.

Ken and Nancy told us the whole four weeks experience with unbelievable excitement. They gave all sorts of support to have 100% successful hatching. They did not use the front entrance of their house and just watched them from a distance. Also, they told the same story, Stanley was on the roof protecting and watching Lucy on the nest. Their house is in a gated community with five car garage and there is quite a distance between the houses. For four weeks they could only use the entrance from the garage without any inconvenience. Also, human traffic was much less in their community, and in their absolutely quiet neighborhood Lucy and Stanley had the best conditions for hatching the goslings in peace and comfort.

One day they saw seven baby goslings going in a straight line into the pond in their back yard. Of course, Lucy was in the front and the seven goslings followed her. The newborn goslings went into the pond without any fear or hesitation and were swimming away except for one. The last one was hesitating at the edge of the pond and could not jump into the pond. Then later Lucy and Stanley came back and escorted the last one to the pond and watched to make sure that it went into the water.

We did not tell Ken and Nancy our two unsuccessful sad experiences. I could not get rid of the image of the broken eggs in the nest from my mind for a couple of days. As my five-year-old grandson, I asked myself why? Why couldn’t our geese make it in our yard?  I understood the first failure well enough. There was too much heavy traffic of trucks. For the second one all the employees did their best to protect her without disturbing her by walking on tiptoes and closing doors quietly. But if the geese could not hatch in our yard, then what is the reason?

The list of clues of the second failure popped into my mind. It could be blamed on the wild animals. In our large wooded back yard there are still deer, raccoons and other wild animals living there. Every winter I have seen footprints of deer near the evergreen trees around the plants. Maybe at night while looking for food they came and destroyed the nest. One gander could not protect the nest against a wild animal attack.

The vanished nest was about six inches deep and two feet wide, like a fort. A nest consists of mulch with very tight, strong structure like a concrete wall. It cannot be destroyed easily, not like a bird’s floppy nest of straw and branches. It was several layers of mulch with sturdy construction.

I hope they come again as a pair for third and fourth attempts. We will do our best for a successful hatching.

Kwang’s Game with Groundhogs

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This story shows Kwang’s, my husband, tenacious efforts to get rid of groundhogs in our back yard and win over their territory that they had before we moved in.

On August 13, 2001 we moved into our new house at the Northville Golf Course, Northville, Michigan, that is located between Five and Six Mile Roads.  It has high ceilings and several big windows facing south, providing us with the warm sunshine in the winter.  Our back yard ends up at the bump with huge pine trees to separate the empty lots to Five Mile Road.  This lot will be the future home of Northville Technology Park.

A couple of months after we moved in, we could hear an unidentifiable noise similar to birds chirping inside of our house.  I told Kwang with an uneasy feeling, “Birds are somewhere inside the house. There is no way that any animal or bird can get inside the house, probably in the chimney,” Kwang told me, showing that it was not an interesting subject.  “But we hear birds chirping,” I told him bluntly with anger.  “Since the builder put the net on top of the chimney, no birds could be inside the chimney,” he commented.

I was quiet, wondering if he might be deaf.  “This cannot be, because the builder already put the net on the top of the chimney to prevent any animals from going into the chimney.” I repeated his comment.  But the noises got louder and louder every day and especially at night.  Even the scratching sounds in the wall came from the chimney, almost as if something fell down inside of it.  Finally Kwang built a fire in the fireplace and the noise disappeared.  This was the beginning of a seesaw game between Kwang and the animals in our back yard to win control of the territory.

“Kwang, our house is surrounded by many different species of animals like the zoo,” I told him, anticipating an exciting answer, but he was quiet and did not show any interest.

For a while we enjoyed watching several species of birds on our deck, gray pigeons, red robins, sparrows, black crows and others.  They showed us their tricks and talents; chirping at each others’ beaks, and showing us their affection and  caring for each other.  Sometimes they just landed like shooting stars from the sky to find worms on the ground.

The more we enjoyed watching the birds, the more the mess piled up on our deck from the birds.  On the top of the picnic table, chairs and rails.  One afternoon Kwang and I tried to clean it up with just rags and laundry detergent.  It did not work.  The mess was coated on the wooden surface like white paint.  I scrubbed the surface with a steel brush with Ajax until my arms were getting numb.  Now Kwang’s tolerance level for the mess did not exist anymore.

Sami and Mike, our next-door neighbors, told us the best method to chase the birds away is to put an owl on the deck.  From fear of the owl’s big shiny eyes they never come back.  Initially I thought they meant a real live owl, then for a moment, not a real one.  What can you do with a live owl?  It would maybe give you even more headaches.

I rushed to Meijer, where Mike bought his plastic owl.  The old gentleman at the entrance who gave me a shopping cart said  with a routine greeting “Welcome to Meijer”.  Before his sentence was over, I asked him “Where are the owls?”  I should have asked, “Where is the location of the section for the owls for gardens?”  He did not understand me at all.  He came close to me and listened carefully to what I pronounced.  He could not guess that I was looking for a plastic owl.  I could not wait for his assistance and went straight to the garden shop leaving him behind.  In the garden section there are many animated animals, turtles with stones and plastic, rabbits, owls and two young children, carved in stone, who are reading a book affectionately together on the bench and many more plastic and stone sculptures for gardens.

Finally I found two owls, one was a dark brown and the other is a lighter brown color.  I chose the darker one because the owl’s eyes are brighter and shinier.  It is hollow and lightweight, like paper and we had to put weight inside.  Kwang fixed it on the rail with a bolt and nut in the middle of the deck.  For a while we did not see any birds sitting on the deck and we were extremely happy without having any more mess.  One Saturday when Kwang and I had lunch in the kitchen, a small gray pigeon was on the guardrail of the deck, and then later one more came and they played by flapping their wings for a few minutes and flew away.  Even if the owl’s eyes were shining, the smart pigeons knew it was a fake.  We were speechless with our huge disappointment and I just looked at Kwang’s stormy face.

A couple weeks went by again without paying attention to our owl or the birds.  One day we saw a small blackbird go inside the barbecue grill on the east side of the deck, through the space between top cover, in and out.  Later she came back with a small straw in her mouth.  She built a large nest inside the grill even though the owl was standing about three feet away.  The plastic owl totally lost its power and authority to chase the birds away.

One early warm winter day, Kwang and I had a cup of coffee at the kitchen table and saw a gray pigeon sat on the owl’s head.  “Wow!  Unbelievable!”  I screamed, “A bird is on the owl’s head”.  She stayed there about ten or fifteen seconds and flew away.  Seesaw games with birds and us seemed never ending.  Again the mess on the deck was all over.

Along with these bird issues, Kwang had another game in our back yard with groundhogs.  With less than one acre of land we had so many episodes with animals.  “Kwang, if we live on huge land with heavily wooded area, we will have extremely unexpected and maybe interesting activities with animals.”  I meant deer, wild turkey, rabbits, and other animals.

Kwang told me a groundhog was living under the rocks in our flowerbed.  Our flowerbed has several large rocks on a slanted smallhill.  The holes were everywhere.  Kwang’s first strategy was to totally seal the entrance with rocks and he hoped the groundhogs wouldn’t leave the hole and would die trapped inside.  Kwang was so pleased at not seeing any new holes for about a week.  I saw his face reflecting his feeling of triumphant victory over them.

A couple of days later Kwang asked me for mothballs.  He hates mothballs because of the awful smell and he also believes it causes cancer.  Kwang does not allow me to use mothballs in our closets.  I had to ask him “why?” with surprise.

His answer was short … “To kill the groundhogs.”  Kwang poured about a half box of mothballs, about one pound, into the hole.  He did not tell me the results of the mothballs with the groundhogs.

On the weekend he was in front of the computer for hours, and his face was reddish purple with anger.  He started to search for information on how to kill groundhogs, after failures at blocking the entrance holes with rocks and mothballs.

Meanwhile the groundhogs moved their home to under the pine trees over the bump in the wide open field about thirty feet away from the flowerbed.  “The groundhogs made two new holes,” Kwang told me in a grumpy voice.  I do not know if they are connected or separate holes in the bump,  Kwang mumbled to himself.

Late afternoon I came back from Indiana.  It was getting dark but not pitch black yet.  Kwang told me that he had to show me something in the yard before dinner.  I was hungry and a bit tired from the long drive, but as soon as I put down my bags on the kitchen floor we went out to my rock garden.  What do you expect?  In the middle of the rock garden I saw a windmill.  The pole was about six foot tall and two inches diameter.  It was spinning at 180 miles per hour.  The blades were about one and one-half foot long and four inches in diameter.  The wind was strong, you could not see the fan blades.  Just one circular one was turning round and round.  I lost all the words in the world.  I was speechless,  Crazy Kwang,  I told myself.  He explained to me that he saw on the Internet that with a windmill you can chase away groundhogs by the vibrations and noise of underground.  He showed me one more windmill on the bump.  I could not see well but  saw the fan was moving fast.  He thought it was all set and the groundhogs would not come again.  He was extremely confident about this device.  The vibration and noise analysis are using pump wear and failure analysis at the manufacturing plant, but in the green fields to kill groundhogs with this technique, I could not understand him.  But he is usually a much better engineer than I am for application of theory.  Also, he has great common sense.  I had to accept his practice this time.

Immediately my thoughts attached to this windmill, to the development of bearing lubricant for a windmill which is demanding industry for the alternative energy.  What a good opportunity for me to test the lubricant in our back yard with our own two windmills.  I hid my smile inside and went into the kitchen and had dinner.

Every evening Kwang asked me “How are the windmills?”  He got a monotonous answer from me, “It is working.”  The November winds in Michigan were getting stronger and stronger and the blades of the windmill were falling one by one.  Now, a couple of weeks later, only the bare pole was left in my rock garden.  The blades of the windmills were gone before performing my lubricant experiment and the groundhogs ran away.

One afternoon Kwang asked me to come up to the bump.  Kwang ran the water to fill the hole for four or five hours.  He hoped filling the hole with water would drown the groundhogs.  I only saw dark deep holes and could not see any water which soaked into the soil.  Several groundhog holes in the back yard made it hard for him to cut the grass with the tractor and two pine trees were already dead because the groundhogs ate the roots.

Now Kwang did not tell me his plan about the groundhogs.  He just stuck to the computer for many hours.  A couple of days later we received a trap (cage) by mail.  Kwang still did not tell me what his plan with the cage was.  There was no way he could win the battle.  A week later another trap came but I never heard that he caught anything.  No activities and no comments from Kwang about the groundhogs for three or four weeks.

The Post Office delivered a large package to our front door.  It was twice the size of the previous traps.  It was huge.  Now Kwang was getting confidence that he could catch anything in the world.  Kwang asked me for slices of apples.  For several days there was no news from Kwang and I saw the huge trap was in our garage for several months.  Later he told friends that he caught a raccoon instead of groundhogs.

Kwang’s battles against the groundhogs lasted about two years.  Kwang could not get any new knowledge from the Internet and he started to ask friends for wise and practical advice.  He thought now was the time to share his anger and frustration with friends.  Some people gave advice to Kwang casually with common sense and others simply did not have any similar experience.

One idea from a friend was to put fireworks in the holes and let them choke from the smoke.  Friends suggested that the plan should be done at night when all groundhogs are inside their holes.  With a flashlight Kwang and I went to the holes.  Kwang put fireworks in the holes and sealed the holes with dirt as quickly as possible.

A couple weeks later Kwang said the groundhogs did not come anymore and did not make any new holes.  This is the method that people used to get rid of them and Kwang even recommended it to Mike, who is our neighbor.  Kwang was so happy and he was just like a marching soldier of victory and regretted that he did not use this method a long time ago.  I agreed, too, that this was the best idea and it would work with toxic chemicals, smoking fireworks, but the feeling of victory did not last long, soon there were two new holes at different locations under the pine tree on the hill.  I did not have any concern or anxiety at this time, like he had unless the holes were not under my flowerbed.

Kwang was digging out more information from the Internet.  One day I found a one-gallon jug half filled with yellow liquid in the garage.  I thought maybe it was floor cleaner from our plant to clean the garage.  We have not cleaned the garage for almost one year.  Now it was early spring and just the right time to clean out the garage.

“Is that floor cleaner in the garage?  There is no label,” I asked Kwang.  He did not answer me and I did not ask him why there was no label, but later after we finished dinner I told him again, “If you take a product without a label, it is not good practice.  Our employees may have made a mistake and put the wrong label on the container and without any Material Safety Data Sheet.”

He had a light smile on his lips and said, “It is my urine.”  This is another device to chase away groundhogs from the Internet and he showed me an Internet article.  I thought this time Kwang was going insane.  Maybe he has to go into a mental hospital.  I did not say anything.  I just thought how stupid I was asking him questions about groundhogs.  He had practiced this quite a while without results.  Again a couple of months were gone.

This time he found out that groundhogs like vegetables, especially cabbage, and they only come out of their holes in the daytime to eat vegetables.  As I mentioned before, Kwang lost more confidence fighting with the groundhogs.  Even though we have three traps, he never caught a single one.  Will vegetables make a big difference, I wondered.  Kwang took several pieces of cabbage from me and put them into the biggest trap of the three.  On May 30, 2007, one groundhog was inside the trap.  His eyes were wide open looking for escape methods.  Kwang was so exultant he almost jumped into the sky.  It seemed to tell us, “See it does work with vegetables.”  Kwang showed it to Mike and they went together to Northville Park near the women’s correction facility to release the groundhog in the park.

On May 31, 2007, he caught another one.  This time Kwang told me it was bigger than yesterday.  Kwang asked me to go together to release it in the park.  I said no.  The groundhog might bite me when Kwang released it.  On June 1, 2007 and June 2, 2007, he caught two more groundhogs.  We caught a total of four.  Kwang finally won on the battlefield.  I told Kwang the groundhogs did not communicate with each other about the traps on the hill.  They are foolish to be caught in Kwang’s trap.

In my mind, I should learn from Kwang his tenacious attitude to solve issues.