Visit from the Deaf and Blind

Like most of my simple ideas hatched in a hallway, this one became more complicated than I anticipated.

The hallway – with smooth, flat floors – set the scene for my invitation to bring students from the Montana School for the Deaf and Blind to the ranch.

Kids like to run so I fleshed out a plan on the fly: We could truck the students to the sheepherder’s monument at the top of the hill, let them run the mile down to the house and eat hamburgers for lunch.

Teachers pointed out one problem: Blind kids can’t see badger holes or cactus.

Eventually, I managed to comprehend that people who can’t see or can’t hear have limitations that certainly can be overcome as long as I don’t accidentally maim them in the process.

I modified my plan to use more senses and less running.

The morning dawned just right, with clouds and temperatures in the 60s.

I corralled a couple of friendly horses and brought my favorite gregarious old ewe to the barn. Gardenia happily gobbled oats from outstretched hands, her prehensile lips searching for every morsel while kids from 9 to 19 giggled at her tickles.

The students fingered handfuls of raw wool while we talked about sweaters, blankets and socks that keep us warm and dry.

Smelling the wool brought up the complicated process of cleaning it so our clothes don’t stink like a barnyard.

It didn’t take long for everyone to load into the wagon for a trip to some teepee rings. Some of the teachers walked behind to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air.

The wagon has no suspension so I drove slowly, hoping nobody would get bucked off. Everyone held tightly, hollered loudly and laughed at every bump.

We didn’t need to worry about surprising a grizzly bear with our stealth.

The kids were more interested in catching grasshoppers than exploring the idea of why the Blackfeet might have selected a spot on a hill near a spring to live.

Giddy multi-species hopping awoke any lingering spirits in the area.

I happened to have a bucket of worms in the cab of my truck, hoping to integrate yet more of my livestock into a conversation.

Each student took a handful of rich, loamy, worm-filled soil. My delight at spotting tiny worm babies in their palms brought familiar expressions of gentle tolerance for oddballs that tend to come with most of my conversations about worms.

I appreciated their kindness.

Some of the kids signed questions and I became aware, once again, of my limited language skills. These students join so many others throughout the world who can communicate in two or more languages.

I don’t.

But they were gracious and patient with my limited skillset and the teachers interpreted for me.

My biggest test came with lunch in my yard.

Would the kids eat the burgers I grilled?

Fortunately, the teachers brought the rest of the potluck in case I burned the burgers – or worse, undercooked them.

My mom had the food set up on tables, ready for the crush of hungry mouths.

Meanwhile, my multi-talented partner, Erik, entertained the kids with his guitar, harmonica, mandolin and accordion.

Enthralled, the kids lined up to play the washboard shield with spoons.

Soon, I had the burgers hot and juicy.

Some kids ate two burgers -- grasshoppers, worms, sheep and sunshine must build appetites.

My test turned in, it was time for some fun.

The deaf girl I danced with had better rhythm, but I tried to keep up.

Other kids joined our circle.

Nobody needed an interpreter while we all bounced to Erik’s beat.

The grins said it all.

Mine was the biggest.