Nothing But

Another beautiful day, almost sorry my truck was up here and I didn't have to walk down. Stopped at the lake with a batch (36, 72 halves) of left-over rolls I brought home Wednesday but didn't see any ducks or geese then. This morning I was early and could see them on the other side of the lake. Went down to the near shore and started spreading half-rolls in a large arc. When they saw what I was doing, they all started that peculiar run/fly thing across the surface of the water, coming on strong. I finished spreading before they got across and retreated a few steps, and, as usual, a couple of the geese kept on coming, right toward me; a final retreat, to the cab of the truck, rather than kick one in the head. My Aunt Sadie, in Mississippi, raised a lot of birds, a dozen varieties, didn't kill them and eat them (she would let me take the occasional Guinea Fowl, my favorite eating bird, all dark meat) but when a cock of any species got too randy and starting really bothering the girls, Sadie, always calm, would quietly walk over and ring his neck. She was also a very good shot with a .22 rifle. She'd go stand in her back yard, trees on two sides, maybe 75 feet away, and wait until she'd seen two squirrels, then she'd shoot them both IN THE HEAD, field dress them, and make a squirrel and dumpling dish, almost a stew, that I've never been able to duplicate. I never watched her make it, it was always the reward for helping them do something, and never thought to ask. I'll ask Mom at xmas, maybe kill a couple squirrels (a brace) in their back yard with a sling-shot. I'm quite good with a sling-shot. I won "Rustic Sling-Shotting" at 25 and 50 feet all four years at Janitor College, other than Horse-Shoes it was my only sport. A rustic sling-shot, by rule, had to be a yoke of branch, with inner-tube bands, and a shoe-tongue pocket. I always preferred them to the bent steel, wrap around the wrist, surgical tubing, soft suede pocket things. I was going to say it's harder to be accurate with primitive equipment and I had to stop and think about that. Probably true. I have one of the bent steel guys now, and I'm awfully good with it, probably couldn't hit the side of a barn with an inner tube. Fully stocked, I'm looking forward to three days alone, back-up juice, back-up booze, back-up tobacco, 14 log-rounds to split, pate to make. Dainty fox prints around a puddle at the top of the driveway. I'm pretty sure my girl-friend is out and about again. In a sense, expectation is everything, when will I see her again? My plan is to take an early walk, while things are still frozen, I like the way color is held in ice, I can become a Romantic, and I track less mud in the house. Because of the holiday, spending it alone, I'm granted enormous latitude, room to think. Which I seem to require. Thinking about others, people I could be with, it's not a slight to my friends, that I'd rather be alone. I'm known to disappear, even someone who watched closely couldn't keep track. I've learned to turn sideways and walk in irregular steps, vanish in the trees. Doesn't attract many viable females but keeps me out of trouble. D has infected me with his inability to sleep, I used to sleep fine, now I get up at all hours of the morning, enact strange rituals, sacrifice mice, study spattered blood. That's a good triplet, I can explain. Even better, I don't have to, you know what I mean. Saves all that codifying. What was meant by whom. I need a new printer, I'm loosing track here, I haven't read myself for over a week, but I'm pretty sure I'm on track. This is usually where I find myself, above my waders in the Yellowstone.