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I have loved things Country and Western all of my life. I have loved the ranches and farms. the fields, the barns, livestock, and the food. I was born and raised in Kentucky where I learned to love and appreciate the beauty, hard work, and value of country living, Most of my family lived on farms and/or were livestock producers. I have raised various livestock and poultry over the years. I have sold livestock feed and minerals in two states. My big hats and boots are only an outward manifestation of the country life I hold dear to my heart. With the help of rhyme or short story, in recipes or photos, I make an effort in this blog to put into words my day to day observations of all things rural; the things that I see and hear, from under my hat. All poems and short stories, unless noted otherwise, are authored by me. I hope you enjoy following along.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

The Eagle




“Grandad ..are you awake”? The clock read 5:23 am as I was pulling on my long johns, trying to be quiet so Patty could sleep awhile longer. ‘Yeah buddy your gear is in the den’

I whisper ‘ be right there’. Another Saturday hunt for deer is about to begin. My oldest grandson Kirkland and I are heading to Panther Creek in hopes of filling his last tag.

I look out the window at the twinkling darkness and see the icy glaze of frost. Thirty degrees, not a bad temp for a morning traverse through the woods and fields. I turn on the coffee pot then meet Kirkland in the den, barely containing his excitement as he layers up in camo. It’s never too cold, never too rainy, never a bad day to hunt at his age. I smile at him and remember that I wasn’t always the fair-weather outdoorsman that I am becoming with age.

The deer are MIA this morning. After a while we stalk some usually productive areas and finally call it a day. Kirkland is disappointed but not overly so. Already he has come to appreciate the experience nearly as much as the harvest. I love that in him. The fog of our breath looks like chimney smoke as we talk . ‘How about a drive through the eastern 10,000’, I ask ‘just to enjoy the scenery?’ “Sure Grandad.” We turn the truck down the gravel road and wonder aloud as we ride where the deer have gone.

As we round a knob Kirkland spots a large shadow in a tree up ahead. Probably a hawk I think, maybe a barn owl . “ Grandad it’s an eagle! I have never seen a bald eagle in the wild!” I stop the truck hand him my binoculars. He focuses the glass and talks in excited tones of admiration for this nations bird. It’s white head and tail, golden beak; all of it is beautiful and inspiring.

“I wish he would fly “ he says. I give the horn a short bump and the massive beauty spreads it wings and glides off his perch. Its large span casts a shadow over grass and limb as he finds an upward breeze and climbs away toward the clouds of the blue and lavender sky.

“This was worth the trip alone!” Kirkland says. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

I take my eyes from the sky and look at my grandson, my daughters child, still gazing with wonder at the beauty of God’s nature. ‘I have’ I think to myself, but I have never appreciated it more than just now. Dec 2011

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