Nine o’clock at night found Casey and Tim in Farmer Jake’s cow pasture on their hands and knees with a flashlight.

“Ya know, Tim, sometimes catching the bait can be as much fun as catching the trout,” Casey remarked. They crawled and whispered in gruff voices as men-folk do while in the pursuit of such manly stuff as trout fishing bait.

Casey considered himself one of the men-folk, because he found his first armpit hair by the light at the top of the staircase. That was darn near unheard of for a thirteen-year-old, even if he was near six feet tall. Well, five foot eight was close. Casey shot down the stairs and strutted around with his chest so puffed up that he almost couldn’t see over it. Mr. Chips jumped up and down yapping and barking his excitement. Why, everyone in the family had to quit what they were doing, just to admire it.

“That can’t be a hair,” his brother PJ said, “Let me see.” Of course, being a year older than Casey and as bald pitted as a six-year-old girl, PJ tried to snatch it out.

Grammy slid her spectacles up off the tip of her nose with a gentle, but crooked index finger. “Land sakes alive young’un. Next thing ya know you’ll be strapping a razor with the best of ‘em,” she said, while holding the back of her hand up to her face in an attempt to conceal her amusement.

“You’re nasty, Casey Raymond. You might spare us any future outcroppings,” his big sister Shelly smirked. Casey’s little sister Patty was also disgusted much to his delight.

If that was disgusting, it’s just as well they weren’t in the pasture with the boys tonight.