Joey was always prone to migraine headaches, and usually they came as a result of having eaten chocolate; not much chance of that on the farm. But, he was under a lot of pressure; he was at the age where he didn't want to do everything his Dad, or anyone else said for him to do. When his Dad applied pressure to him, he came up with a headache that took him to bed or made him vomit, whichever happened first. One afternoon he got a headache and went to bed; that evening we had a meeting. When we got back home, he wasn't in his bed; we figured he had gone outside for a walk, but then we noticed a few of his things were gone.

We began to look around the next morning and found that a tiny boat that was used by one of the men for fishing, was gone; it was on the other side of the river. Someone crossed the river and found that a station wagon was also gone. Joey was still missing. It all pointed to the fact that Joey had left.

Joe and some of the elders went to town. They found that Joey was at the police station. He had driven the station wagon to Dawson Creek, and was heading back towards the farm, when he had run out of gas. They had picked him up - he didn't have a driver's license and it wasn't his car. The owner, one of the brethren, didn't press charges; the police didn't say anything about no driver's license and Joey was let go, into our care.

He had been on his way back to the farm and wanted to live there. After a meeting with the elders, it was settled that he belonged with us and was sincere about staying. The owner of the tiny boat wasn't upset about his boat being used; it hadn't been damaged in any way. The man who owned the station wagon that Joey used for his "get away", was very gracious and remained a close friend - still is today.

We were always looking for "different" things to do, at least those of us who didn't settle for the mundane, ordinary, everyday-type of things. Joey had a lot of middle of the night piggy birthings; one night he would be especially busy, there was the possibility of two pigs going at the same time.

I thought it would be the right occasion to have a pig-barn party. I brought hot chocolate and cookies to the barn...we stood around and "pigged-out" until the first "flag up"; this is what was shouted as the tail went up and the piglet came out! (They always happened simultaneously.) Joey took the clippers and cut off the fangs, as each little piglet was born. (These are the same fangs that protrude, on wild pigs; I guess that makes them a boar - the fangs are used for defense.) I think he daubed them with iodine.

Joey was very good at making snowshoes. It was a skilled that was taught to a few on the farm, by some of the Natives. We had plenty of moosehides; these were cut in strips...for the woven pattern, on the frames. The Natives marvelled at how good Joey was, in making the snowshoes; few of them could do as well.