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The Weedpatch Gazette
Shadow of the past: I have taken a break from the writing to “visit the folks” out at the old mining claim in Boulder Gulch and do my “walkabout.” I like to visit the old pines and granite boulders and commune with my great-grandmother, grandmother, granddad, and my brother Ronnie. I like to think these departed loved ones hear and see me. I ache for their love and counsel when I don’t know what to do or what I should be doing. Whether it’s true or not, I find comfort in the thought that they are with me in a way that transcends our limited physical “reality.” I walk up the hill behind where the “main” cabin used to be. Ronnie and I, on one of his infrequent visits with our mother, sled down this slope on barrel-staves one winter when we had a nice snowfall. The old cabin had served as a cook shack until grandad, with some “help” from me, had added on to it. In the summer, we would move the old, wood cook stove out of doors and cooking and eating took place under the pines. Great-grandma (always “grandma” to Mom, Ronnie and me) took up residence in the other cabin. How I miss sitting in her lap while she would read to Ronnie and me. I stand under the tall, old pine where I shot the hawk. I was feeding the chickens and rabbits when I spied the Red-tail land on the very top of the tree. The .22 Remington single shot was, as usual, close at hand. I always kept a gun close in case of Indian uprisings, bear and lion attacks and the usual calamities which were sure to occur to a “pioneer woodsman” in the “wilderness” (Thanks, James Fenimore Cooper). Unfortunately, the only round I had with me was a “short” already chambered in the gun. Now I know, looking back, that the Red-tail was probably not a threat (unlike owls and the wild donkeys) to our livestock. But it was a real enough “threat” at the time to me as a child and, carefully shouldering the .22, I took aim and fired. The hawk came tumbling down through the branches. Running up the hill, I saw the hawk. He was standing on his legs, lop-sidedly, bracing himself with his right wing on the ground much as one might use a crutch, and breathing heavily. His bright, intelligent eyes pierced me. It was soon obvious that, due to the low velocity round and his natural “bullet-proof vest” of feathers, that the small bullet had only knocked him off his perch. The fall had probably done him more hurt than the small slug. I entertained the thought of doing him in with the butt of the rifle but, for two reasons, did not. One: I might damage the gun and, two: I simply could not bring myself to do violence to such a noble bird when he was so obviously at such a great disadvantage. I won’t flatter myself as to which of the two objects of reticence were most objectionable. I’d like to hold to the latter, and nobler, motive. For some reason, perhaps my Choctaw Cherokee heritage, I struck up a conversation with the Red-tail while he huffed and puffed, gathering his strength and getting his wind back. Now those of you not familiar with the ways of a boy in the woods might have cause to wonder about having a conversation with a hawk (or any other critter) that is lacking in the social grace of making small talk. But, for me, it seemed perfectly natural that I would be discussing the nature of his present discomfiture and “explaining” what had happened. The Red-tail did not seem particularly impressed with my explanation; in fact, he seemed rather in a hurry to terminate the discussion with little regard to the polite niceties of civil conversation. Looking back on the incident though, I’m reasonably sure, had the hawk been able to voice his opinion of the affair, he would have added greatly to my, then, woefully, deficient knowledge of maledicta. Teetering back and forth, he brought his dragging wing back up into normal position and, taking an experimental hop, began to hop, hop, hop, down the hill, his wings taking a couple of practice flaps. After a few yards of this exercise, he gathered speed enough to make a low-level take-off. Wings now fully distended, he glided downhill slowly a couple of feet off the ground. Then, with a few, slow flaps of his wings he began to gain altitude. Finally, he was high enough to soar over the opposite hill from me and out of sight. As I stroll the hills among the rocks and trees, the old, familiar sites bring on both the aching melancholy and the precious memories of precious loved ones. My readers of some years have heard most of the stories. I know you understand the state of mind and heart that keeps drawing me back to this site and a few others of like preciousness. These are the “pilgrimages” that help me to maintain a perspective of the “best of the child” in me, that nourishes the poet and keeps butterflies and trout streams not only relevant, but essential; and most essentially the gentleness of strength to confront evil and to love sacrificially without any sense of sacrifice. How else I often wonder, to love God and one’s neighbor as oneself? 12 comments from 6 users
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posted by
samheath
on Jun 7, 2009 at 03:22 PM
I'm sure we all appreciate you visiting and commenting SN. We all profit by the sharing of good people. posted by
sellsnew
on Jun 7, 2009 at 03:18 PM
Great stories, you both had me on the edge of my chair. I swear I could see both events unfolding. Sioux I have experienced similar miracles several times in my 50+ years, I never thought about it but possibly my American Indian heritage can be credited for those as well. It brings goose bumps each time to re-live some of those experiences. Wish I had yours and Sam's gift for re-telling them. I do know that since I force myself to trust my gut instinct when it comes to people and events, I've not been disappointed. Sometimes it's hard to do that but the older I get, the easier it gets. Thanks guys. These are the blogs that I can't get enough of. posted by
samheath
on Jun 7, 2009 at 02:51 PM
Some of us are fortunate to be able to relate to that Curt as you can tell from comments already made. Thanks for adding your own precious memories. posted by
CurtDalton
on Jun 7, 2009 at 02:44 PM
Wonderful story Sam.
I was fortunate enough to grow up in a sleepy little town in New England. The house I grew up in was built in the late 1700's and we didn't even have locks on our doors - Such things were not needed! In visiting the area now, it's still a sleepy town but it's not little anymore. The rock wall I used to carefully walk is now part of the Robert Frost Farm historical landmark. Just try walking along that rock wall now! LOL! I wouldn't trade the memories of my childhood in New Hampshire for all the riches in the world. posted by
samheath
on Jun 7, 2009 at 02:05 PM
Thank you Dale; I'm most fortunate to have such memories to share with others. posted by
anglo1
on Jun 7, 2009 at 02:02 PM
Great story Sam, they almost always bring fond memories for me. posted by
samheath
on Jun 7, 2009 at 12:34 PM
Always glad to have you join in Alicen; the critters have a way of making us smile when the world seems to be intent on making us frown. posted by
ALICEN
on Jun 7, 2009 at 12:26 PM
Beautiful stories, both of you. It's almost like being there. I'm fortunate enough to be among those who read for pleasure, not just for instruction or information, and it's stories like these that always make me feel better -- although one might not think so, since my supply of Kleenex frequently begins to diminish when I read some of the work. I've seen one red-tailed hawk in our area. Luckily he was apparently taking off from our roof, sailing out to the taller trees in back. I knew then why they were called red-tailed hawks. Commoner, perhaps in this area, is the American Kestrel. What a beautiful creature he is! Smaller, but no less majestic. Another less common, but absolutely beautiful bird in our area (not in the hawk family) is the Northern Flicker. The only time his beautiful yellow tail feathers are seen is when he takes off with his back toward you. Anyhow, thanks, guys. posted by
samheath
on Jun 7, 2009 at 11:53 AM
For certain SCR, whatever anyone's beliefs you don't mess with Mother Nature. posted by
siouxcityranch
on Jun 7, 2009 at 11:47 AM
Oh I agree Sam..Miracles do happen and for those on here that wont admit or cant recognize them I feel very sorry for. In my younger days I used to have a booth at the local Indian Pow Wows..I painted different scenes like indian maidens wildlife etc on cow skulls sheep heads..whatever I collected that was southwestern and marketable.... I also painted on feathers called 'Talking Feathers" I used mostly larger birds with solid color like Turkey Ravens etc. The birds of prey were the only ones I never worked with because God had already put his special mark on them. You cant improve on somethiung that is already *Perfect* on a side note..If you ever work with feathers and you find a bird that has passed on. the belief is that If they are belly down they have given themselves to mother earth.. belly up they have given you permission to use them..I warn you .dont try and cheat because it will bring you bad luck..I tried it one time and after a few bad days I ended up burying the feather, graphic and all Brings to mind another old saying..'You don't mess with 'Mother Nature" posted by
samheath
on Jun 7, 2009 at 11:32 AM
Those of us with enough "critter" experiences are not going to take your story lightly SCR. Beyond any superstitions there was a good reason for our Indian ancestors crediting such things as you describe. However God is represented He still intervenes in the lives of people and I believe he sometimes uses the critters as means of intervention. posted by
siouxcityranch
on Jun 7, 2009 at 11:20 AM
Samuel a Red Tail ????
my totem bro..shame..*grin* atleast you didn't kill him.. Ok heres one of my stories as to why I hold them so near and dear.. A few years ago around sundown, I was driving south towards Wasco on hwy 43 up near Tulare. That my friend is a longgg, straight ,boring road with not much happening especially at that time of day. That particular evening I saw one of the biggest Red Tails I've ever seen in this valley sitting on a fence post. It was about 50 ft off the left side of the road. He was just so awesome sitting there watching the traffic go by I found myself staring in sheer awe. For an instant he took my attention off my driving..well more than he should have given the impending situation.. There was a slow moving truck built like a UPS transport not far in front of me blocking the view ahead. Between us there was an impatient young man ready to rocket down the road given his first chance. As the seconds passed the young lad grew even more impatient darting back and forth and finally in a near crazed frenzy he decided to blow past the truck.. It didnt seem to matter to either of us it was almost impossible to see oncoming traffic. For some foolish reason I felt compelled to trust his descion making abilitys over my own. I had also been on the road all day and wanted to get home, My judgment was clouded by that fact so I almost made a really bad call. In that same instant I decided to follow him and moved into the opposite lane, ready to make my move. All at once that huge Red Tail jumped off the post and flew directly at the front of my car, causing me to swerve and drop back in behind the truck. It freaked us out. In all my years of driving Ive never experienced something like that and doubt I ever will again. As I was busy gathering my wits and rejoicing in the fact the bird, nor anyone else was harmed even though his wings had just raked over the top of my hood.. I took a split second to peek around the corner of the truck just in time to witness the young man had just barely cleared the front end, and was now making a hard right back into our lane. Out of nowhere there was a light colored van running with its lights off. The driver had failed to turn his lights on just before dusk like the rest of us so he was virtually invisible. He was heading north at an excellerated rate of speed and seemed oblivious as to what just almost happened. I'm totally convinced that had that Red Tail not intervened, I wouldnt be sitting here right now telling you this story.... My family and I will always owe that beautiful creature of God a huge debt of gratitude.
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