And then I wrote...

by Dick Schilling, Editor Emeritus

... that when I went to raise my flag about sunup one morning, I heard a rooster crowing to greet the dawn.
I have heard that sound from time to time in recent years, but the dawn timing seemed to trigger memories of when we raised chickens. Yep, right here in town, except we were at the very edge of town at that time. Quite often, it would be the sound of crowing that woke me from sleep. Instead of an impaired prostate, but that’s another story! I consoled myself in those childhood days by thinking that one of these days, that noisy rooster was going to become Sunday dinner.
We used to hear pheasant roosters cackling here at the edge of town, too, and often saw them walking around. I was an avid pheasant hunter. But as I thought about that that same morning, I decided I probably could not bring myself to shoot such a beautiful bird as a pheasant rooster these days, even if I was physically able to chase one down.
And I have not seen or heard one here for a few years.
Maybe it is age, but I find myself much more tolerant of God’s creatures which share this earth with us. For example, there is a 13-line ground squirrel in an area of my lawn. There was one there a couple years ago, too. In olden days, we called them striped gophers, and one of my favorite things to do was to take out my trusty .22 rifle loaded with birdshot, then turn on the hose and stick it down the gopher hole. When the very wet and surprised gopher popped out, he would be dispatched. Now, I just smile and talk to the squirrel, and he (or she, it only matters to another squirrel) seems not much afraid. I can’t view his presence as harmful.
Driving home from a grocery shopping trip one day, I saw two mourning doves in the street. As I approached, they showed no sign of moving, so I slowed way down. They finally took off, only to fly slowly directly ahead of the car, one even coming over the hood and close to the windshield, and so I stopped dead to see what was going to happen next. They finally veered off to the side so I could proceed. Doves are starting to gather before most of them head south. The powers that be have declared that it is okay to shoot these songbirds, so maybe my pair figured they might just as well end it all right there.
Shucks, I even feel sympathy for some humans who, in my younger days, I would have dismissed as unworthy of my caring.
But not all people.
Not the obituary writer who wrote that the deceased woman was preceded in death by her first husband, who “died after they were married.” I would hope it wasn’t before!
Nor the radio commercial writer, who said the Iowa farmer probably would “kick himself in the head” if he didn’t take advantage of the product. I doubt there is a farmer anywhere in Iowa who could kick himself in the head. Unless he is a fugitive from a Chinese acrobatic team.
A ballerina might come close.