(Picture: Margaret Eliza Utley and Maggie Belle Tolman).
(Contributed by the Thomas Tolman Family Organization. Excerpt from Judson Tolman: Pioneer, Lumberman, Patriarch by E. Dennis Tolman, Second Edition, 2004, pages 38-39).
Maggie Bell Tolman Porter, the youngest daughter of Cyrus Tolman (1820-1890) and Margaret Eliza Utley (1835-1902), shares some experiences that occurred at the Rush Valley homestead while they lived there:
I was always fond of cats. When I was four days old, my mother told me the midwife was bathing me on her lap (as in olden times) and I was laying on my tummy. The cat walked across the floor in my line of vision and I turned my head and watched it. The family noticed this and they drove the cat back and forth, and I would turn my head and follow it with my eyes. That would certainly explode the idea doctors give us today that children are blind at birth.
I played with cats in preference to dolls during all of my childhood. I even prepared layettes before the kittens arrived. Remember, I had older brothers that never failed to educate me in the things of life much to the chagrin of my mother. My mother seemed to blame me when a large batch of kittens arrived. Of course, I owned the mama cat. All the kittens could not be kept so it fell my lot to destroy them. No one will ever know the sorrow that filled my heart; how I could see them in my dreams, gasping and struggling in water. I always drowned them by weighting the sack into a big five gallon bucket of water and leaving them to die. I would be haunted night after night. Of course, Mother could not imagine what effect it had upon me or she would never have made me do it.
On this particular occasion Mother had allowed me to keep one little kitten. It was very young-—did not have its eyes open. This was in the late fall. I carried the little kittens over to the creek, got the big bucket, and filled it with water, and placed the weighted sack into the bucket. Then I ran back to the house and how I cried. That evening Mother sent me for the slop pail. I emptied the sack. There were six tiny kittens, stiff in death. I noticed each tiny, red tongue hanging out as their mouths were open. They haunted me all night. The next morning I ran out with old Delila’s breakfast—that was the mother cat’s name. In the nest lay the little kitten I had kept. An old Tom cat had gotten into the nest and bit it through the throat. It was dead. The mama was softly licking it. I felt so sorry for her and for myself. I was just heartbroken. Mother, I know, felt sorry, too. Mother told me she wished she had let me keep a little three-colored kitten I wanted so much, but she said one female was enough. That day was raw and bitter cold, but the next morning was sunny and bright. I made my way to the place where the drowned kittens were lying, deciding I would dig a grave and bury them before their mother found them. Instead of six kittens there were only five. It was a big mystery to me what became of the sixth one—the one I had wanted to keep. I made several trips during the day, curious to know what had become of it.
As usual, I prayed about it. I kneeled down by the big sagebrush and asked the Lord to help me find it so I might bury it with the little brothers and sister. While I was praying, I thought I heard the weakest, tiniest little mew. I listened for minutes, but it was not repeated. I prayed several times. I even went to the prayer room that I have told you about. About two o’clock, the warmest part of the day, I returned to the spot. I listened again, and then I was sure I had heard a kitten mew. I began to search and found it in a little hole at the foot of the sagebrush. Its little mouth was full of dust, and it was stiff and cold. I ran into the house with it and told Mother how I had prayed and I knew in my simple trusting faith that the Lord had saved that little kitten. Mother placed it upon the oven door to warm it. She dropped warm milk into its little mouth after washing out the dust. It revived, and she allowed old Delilah to have her bed behind the stove. I wondered who was the happiest—the mother cat, my mother, or myself. Mother promised me then that I should never be required to kill any more kittens, and she kept her promise.
Visit FamilySearch to learn more about Margaret Eliza Utley, Also visit the Thomas Tolman Family Organization to find out how you can get more involved in family history.