I told her it was my father who was the ranger. She said that I was a “Ranger Kid,” and therefore I qualified me to share recipes for the book. I like the title of “Ranger Kid” because I was raised at the Baker Ranger Station. It is about one mile out of Monticello , Utah — a small town in southeastern Utah , with a population at the time of about 1500.

The Baker Ranger Station. The drawings that accompany this article may look like a child's renditions, but they were drawn by Dian as an adult. A right-handed person, she drew them left-handed.

As I was growing up I had no idea what an incredible childhood I had. (I didn't realize how lucky I had been until I went to New York and saw the open fire hydrants, and the kids playing in the street.) The Baker Ranger Station was located on a section of land that consisted of 240 acres. On that land were all the support buildings for the Manti LaSalle National Forest .

One of the unique things about the buildings at the ranger station was all of the buildings were painted white with a green roof. The compound consisted of our home, an outhouse down the way (even though the house had indoor plumbing), my dad's office, a garage, a warehouse with a pit where men would jump in when the truck came in to be repaired, a gas house with a hand gas pump, a barn, and a bunkhouse for guests. We also had a chicken coop, two gardens, two tree houses we built, and an old, abandoned Civilian Conservation Corps camp where we could play and find kid treasures.

This is the small outbuilding that housed the gas pump.

Since this month is the 100 th Birthday of the National Forest Service, I would like to share this month some of the memorable experiences I had growing up in this mountain Disneyland . Being raised in such an open, creative environment had a huge impression on my life. Because we had a family of five children (four boys and me), my mother was pretty busy taking care of the family essentials. My bother Jared — who was just two years younger than I — was my playmate, and life on the edge of the wilderness was one adventure after another.

A rendition of the house where Dian's fairytale childhood occurred. Note Dian's happy self in the foreground, in front of the croquet wickets.

Tree Houses

One of our favorite activities was building a tree house. My dad helped up put a ladder in the tree and a couple of two-by-fours above the ladder to support the upper deck. That's right — we had a two-level tree house. There was plenty of old lumber for building supplies, and every tool you could imagine. We would go to the warehouse and design and cut the piece of lumber we would need to put a floor on the ladder and then put a cover over it. Our tree house was the place to go where we wanted to hide out and have a game or two without being bothered by anyone else.

Sand Pile

We had a big sand pile where we would design and build castles. We also got big trucks for Christmas and we could build roads, bridges and small towns. Right above the sand pile was our kids' graveyard, where we would bury our small pets when they died. I especially remember our pet turtle. When it died we wrapped it in toilet paper and put it in a Band-aid can and then had a funeral. When we put the Band-aid can in the ground, we made a little cross to mark the grave.

The sand pile was where Dian and Jared played with their trucks. Note the pet cemetery above the sand pile.

Pet Chipmunks

Common animals in the area were chipmunks that ran wild on the property. We designed and create several traps to catch them. We even built a special chipmunk pen by digging a three-foot hole in the ground and then filling a box with wheat and wool for the chipmunk to make a place to hibernate during the winter. We ran a pipe up and then built a big wire pen around a bicycle wheel. We wrapped a wide screen around it so the chipmunks would have a path to run.

The chipmunks loved to run on the wheel. Then, when it got going too fast, they would jump off. One day when I was in the pen feeding the chipmunks, one ran up my pant leg. I put my hand around my leg so it could not keep going up, and then I let out a scream. It took of and went back down my pant leg.

This is the compound where Dian and her family lived.

This is a closeup of the portion of the compound picture that shows the chipmunk wheel.

Chickens

About 100 yards up the hill was the chicken coop. There we had a dozen chickens that kept our family in eggs. It was often my job to go to the chicken coop and gather the eggs. I would I love to throw out the wheat and watch the chickens flock to me and eat. While they were occupied, I would check their nests to gather the eggs. My favorite was to get a big egg and then rush back to the kitchen to see if it was a double-yolk egg. I learned that brown hen laid brown eggs and white hen laid white eggs, but there is not any difference between a white egg and a brown egg.

Our chickens were range chicken and our eggs were real organic eggs because we would often feed them table scraps. That just means they were really healthy. We didn't know about “range chickens” and “organic” eggs back in those days, but

The coop where Dian's family inadvertently raised chickens that laid organic eggs.

Milking the Cow

We had a Jersey cow named Puggy. It took me a while to get the hang of how to milk a cow, but with a lot a practice I finally succeed in getting some milk in the bucket. If you do not have a cow and want to give your kids the experience of milking, get a surgical glove and fill it with milk. Then tie it in a knot at the top. Take a needle and put a small hole in the end of one of the fingers. Let the kid take turn milking and they will think they were raised on a farm.

The barn where Dian learned to milk Puggy the Cow. Puggy is shown at the barn door.

After milking the cow we would put the milk though a strainer and put it in a large glass bowl in the fridge. The next morning we could go in and skim off the best part, the cream. What I love most was when my mother would make cream puffs and then whip the cream and add a little sugar and put it in the puffs. They were the best.

It think we can end with the dessert of cream puffs and invite you to come back next week for some more tale about “Ranger Kids.” Happy Birthday 100 th birthday, Forest Service — and thank you for a great start in life.