If anyone encourages you to do something today, anything at all, remember that it’s more than likely an April Fools’ joke, so just do the opposite. I don’t fall for any of those tricks. If I get bills in the mailbox April 1 — boop — right into the paper shredder. The ol’ fake bill on convincing-looking paper trick, eh? With return envelope, postage paid and everything, huh? Very elaborate ruse, whoever you are. Nice try, but save it for somebody who’s at least a little gullible. I was born at night, but not last night. Last year this fake bill gag went so far that they even shut off my power a week later to make it seem more convincing.

The tradition of playing practical jokes on the first day of April dates back to Mesopotamian times, when a court jester named Kugel is said to have placed an inflated oxen bladder under the throne cushion of Roman emperor Constantine, in the first recorded use of what is now known as a whoopee cushion. The result was so popular among those in attendance that the event was commemorated the following year on the same day with further acts of mischief. Sadly, Kugel lived the rest of his life in chains and did not profit from future sales of novelty oxen bladders.

I did some research in the Chieftain archives for memorable pranks played here in the Wallowas. The first recorded practical jokes in the area were played by a dedicated local trickster named Coyote, whose exploits are remembered in some of the very first “Out of the Past” features.

Barn lowerings were an elaborate prank enjoyed by early Wallowa Valley residents. Community members would coordinate to lure a farmer into town under some pretense, then work together quickly to disassemble a barn while the farmer was away.

Another popular gag among early Grande Ronde and Wallowa Valley settlers was to sneak onto a neighbor’s farm under cover of night and move a haystack back out into the field and place it neatly in rows. This practice was known as “har-har-vest,” but was eventually outlawed by the Territorial Governor in the late 1800s after an Elgin area farmer did not see the humor in this little bit of fun, resulting in what became known as “The April 2nd Battle of the Pitchforks.”

In the mid-1920s the local chapter of the Loyal Order of the Water Buffalo, Lodge 26, advertised Wallowa Lake Monster rides, departing from the paddlewheel dock at the north end of Wallowa Lake. Rides on the Wallowa Lake Monster cost two bits for adults, but kids got to ride for free. The joke was that two bits was only for a one-way ride. If you wanted to come back to shore you had to pay another two bits. A picnic lunch and pie social was provided by The East Moraine Grange Auxiliary and proceeds helped finance the first sculpture along the dirt and boardwalk Main Street in Joseph. Bronze was not available at the time due to rationing, so the foundries had to retool and cast the sculpture in a fire-hardened mixture of local clay, horsehair and Mazama ash. The sculpture was controversial at the time, as it depicted a cowboy wearing short sleeves, which some thought was immodest. Also, the dog in the sculpture was not following commands, which some residents felt did not represent Eastern Oregon in the best light. A wealthy San Francisco banker later purchased the sculpture for the garden of his mansion on Telegram Hill. The house and grounds are now a museum and the sculpture, “Sit, Boy, Sit.” is still on display and available for public viewing.

Visitors to The Wallowa County Museum can see photographs of the 1938 April Fools’ Day prank when a group of loggers packed mule strings carrying barrels of beet juice from the local sugar refinery up to the ridge atop Mount Joseph and dumped the contents, turning the slopes pink. Bears could be seen licking the snow for several weeks afterward.

Wallowa County has a rich tradition of April Fools’ Day practical jokes, and some that weren’t useful at all. Keep the tradition going and see if you can pull a fast one today that’s good enough to make it into future editions of “Out of the Past.”

Jon Rombach is a local columnist for the Chieftain. He wasn’t really born at night. That was just a joke.