Blog Post
Wild Birds and Fence Rows

When I was a kid we played outside.  We basically lived outside.  My Dad made sure we stayed outside most of the time.  We had dogs.  Bird dogs and once a beagle.  Dad’s dad my Grandpa Floyd and his father Grandpa Herman Pedigo raised bird dogs.  There used to be fence lines in the country where coveys were abundant.  Quail and grouse are all I ever heard about them hunting.  I saw them bring a mess in once while visiting Tennessee but walked away when they began pulling off their feathers.  As I take in the morning news once again I see another criminal has been exposed.  The media doesn’t wait for the truth to come.  There’s such a force for the evil in the world to be exposed that some will be held accountable for the crimes of many.  And in many cases these criminals will be innocent.  Maybe someone reacted too fast and now someone else is gonna be destroyed even if found innocent.  The media is quick to strike and persecute at any twinge of a headline.   America is hooked on sensationalism.  The whole idea of this once new world was sensationalized in history.  Don’t forget the Indians.  I’m not scared to call a Native American an Indian.  Believe me the ones I know call themselves Indians. Usually, I call them Bob or George or whatever their name is.  “Friend,” is one of my favorites.  I know what it feels like to be a minority too.  Just stop at a gas station on the reservation during drinking hours.  There’s a vibe.  Indirectly, I know what’s it’s like not feeling comfortable in my own skin.  Hard times came on me in high school when I quit sports for the arts.  The separation was long before that though.  More to come from these blogs on the separation topic I’m sure.  After all, separation is the root of all human dilemma.  Anymore PC feels like QC though.  Who decides the minutes in the lenses of perception?  We all come equipped with the means to see things in the light.  But sometimes we forget.  I remember the morning light the one time I went bird hunting with my Dad and Grandpa.  It was crisp and the ground had frosted tips.   It was sunrise and I fell two steps behind them guns loaded.  I felt the dog’s senses heighten as did ours.  Then the copper spotted Irish Setter pointed.  Invisible in the glass of a December dawn I heard the quail begin to run before they flew.  Suddenly they looked like the underbrush running into the sun.  One by one yet many, I drew up my gun.  I shot too fast.  I was two steps behind and coulda missed.  Sometimes it scares me to think of what could’ve happened if I had shot my Grandpa or Dad.  Thankfully that didn’t happen but, the lesson was don’t ONLY react like others even if the whole of the shared objective is the same.  Innocent people could be hurt just because someone else thought they were doing right.  I think about that now and wonder how bittersweet is that memory.  We may one day wish those fence rows didn’t get cleaned up in the name of progress.  The wild birds are almost gone as I knock down my own fence rows one by one.

Blog Index

Down in the Flood
    posted 2018-04-21

Seashells & Blacktop
    posted 2018-04-01

January 1st, 2018
    posted 2018-01-01

Four Christmases
    posted 2017-12-26

Faith Is The Middle Road
    posted 2017-12-04

White River Golden Eagle
    posted 2017-11-30

Wild Birds and Fence Rows
    posted 2017-11-29

The Current
    posted 2017-11-28