Village Squire, 1979-11, Page 23In a rustle, the birds were gone. But one did not leave. It
staggered on the branch, waivered, and tumbled off, fluttering
to the ground like a leaf heavy with the fall rain. A sense of
triumph flowed through me. A picture of a German
Messerschmit flashed across the back of my mind as it faltered to
the earth after meeting its match from a daring young pilot in a
Spitfire.
I rushed over. In the dim light from the sunset the little bird
lay there in the blue -tinted snow. The dull brown of its back and
the muddy grey of its stomach made it look dingy against the
snow. Its body was racked by the pounding beat of its breast.
This was my victory? I was depressed but determined not to let
this feeling of self -disgust overcome me. It was just one 'more
sign of my weakness; one more sign that I couldn't hack it with
the other tough boys and their fathers or brothers.
The next day after lunch, after all the work of the farm that
was my delegated duty was done, I took down the air rifle again.
I loaded it and went out to really do some hunting. Hunting, of
course, meant more than just sitting on the back step pecking
away at birds in a nearby tree. So I set out to stalk the prey,
starting in the cherry tree and working through the orchard. The
little gun spit and spit again and each time the birds flew on
frightened. but safe.
Perhaps it was an hour later that I discovered the old shed
behind the barn. It was really just a cattle shelter, closed in on
the west and north and south to protect the beasts from the
freezing blasts of a snowbelt winter. We didn't use if for cattle
anymore. There was a tangle of small machines in it to protect
them from the snow and keep them from rusting.
I was poking around the back of the building when I realized
my fingers were getting numb from the biting west wind so I
decided to take shelter in the building. As I rounded the corner,
however. I heard the chirping of sparrows. There they were,
dozens of them, flitting from the big round wheels of the old
dump rake to the lever of the two -furrow drag plow to a beam
near the back. On the beam, they were silhouetted against the
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November 1979, Village Squire 21