The article in the October 2004 issue, "Carlsbad Cowboy Caver," made me remember my mother telling us about having fun watching bats come out of the cave and yelling at the cave to get an echo. At that time, the cave mouth, to the children of the area, was just a hole in the ground that yelled back. Whoever got the loudest echo won the game. Mom also remembered playing in the cave after Mr. White began to develop the caverns.
Grandpa was a rancher, with a herd of cattle in the area. Mom was born in 1892, before fences and state lines. They lived, and half the children were born, in a soddy.
Mom has been gone since 1982, but I can still remember some of the tales she told. My grandmother told about a fire in the area that burned sheep and cattle. She said the smell of burned wool was in the air for a long time.
It is all coming back now. I'd better start writing it all down before I forget some of it.
Keep up the wonderful GRIT.
Virginia Pitt Presley Wilson
Anchor Point, Alaska