Bird

A Dani Jo-ism

Our new home in Inver Grove finds us with a very nice, wide sidewalk which passes near a local nursery.  The landscaping is marvelous, and it makes a very nice walk.  Since we no longer have a back yard, and so Bob The Dog must be walked for his periodic restroom needs, I find myself walking the sidewalk frequently, often with one or both of the two children who still live at home.

One fine evening, Dani Jo and I were walking along near some conspicuously lovely foliage.   The air was clean, the sun was sinking, and it was a truly lovely time.  Dani Jo, who doesn't miss an opportunity to maximize on "creating memories" seemed to be particularly caught-up with the events.  It became clear that she was searching for something momentous to say; perhaps to cap the sheer elegance of the experience.

She stopped, and in a hushed tone, she whispered to me "Dad, do you see that bird?", pointing at what appeared to be a robin.  Then, with the same quietness, and complete sincerity  "I think it's a red-breasted hat-nutch".

A Stick And String

Yesterday marked my reacquaintance  with an old friend.  It has been several years since I nocked a cedar shaft to a self-made Flemish string and sent it downrange by the momentum of unspringing wooden limbs.

I sincerely enjoy the sport of archery, the skill of placing an arrow on target.  Or in my case after years of non-practice, the lack of skill in placing the arrow.  Two friends with compound bows, peep-sites, carbon fiber arrows, and mechanical releases shot with me on a charming 28-target course in the woods not far from my home.  I was armed with my very modest 50# Bear production recurve (mid-1970's) which my wife purchased at a garage sale for $5 some years ago.  I made the string, the arrows, and even the quiver (which is sewn from the tops of two old Tony Llama boots).

My friends shot considerably better than me, but I made some good shots.  The course was obviously geared toward fast, flat shooting compounds and/or archers more skilled than myself, this fact witnessed by the abundance of 60-plus yard shots.

At the end of the day, as the sky faded, and we ambled toward the source of some good cheeseburgers, I fondly remembered my childhood, most of which saw me toting a bow of some sort around the fields and pastures of southern Iowa.  I decided I should like to shoot more often.  Perhaps getting my children more involved in archery will help me with that endeavor.