“There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but I have a feeling that if I did the joy would be gone as well.”
— Nicholas Sparks, American novelist, screenwriter, philanthropist (1965-)
When you think about it, we must be some of the luckiest people to live where we do. I picked up a book from the bookcase “Stillmeadow Daybook” by Gladys Taber. Gladys lived in a seventeenth century farmhouse in rural Connecticut. She published books about daily life, living at the farmhouse and in the community around her. With good reason I pulled out the book to see if Gladys ever wrote of what we might call “sad” news. If you read this column with any regularity, you know I try to share the best of the Prairie; wanting you to always find a bit of respite, a smile, or learn something you might not know about Prairie life. At all costs I avoid sadness but certainly here in the Prairie there is sadness.
I think it was at the end of last summer. Sam and I had begun to drain the big lake in an effort to rid the lake of overgrown vegetation. Sam fixed a contraption of PVC pipes that would have one end in the lake and the other on the other side of the dam. Connecting the pipes would be two values. I would have the job of turning the knob at the exact time Sam hollered and water would rush from the lake over the dam. The contraption acts as siphon and the lake water will continue to flow out unaided.
In the last eight years or more I have mothered four cats, four rabbits, ten goldfish, and six Pekin ducks. Pekin ducks are snowy white with a bright yellow bill. They are friendly ducks and quickly learn to know you, if for no other reason as you are their primary food source. There’s a photograph of my last living duck, Helen, posted on Instagram. I noted she was “sassy.” Whether or not the siphoning of the lake was a contributor to her death, we do not know; it wasn’t to the others. We had a private memorial service for sassy Helen and put her to rest with the other “children.” I still miss her.
The absence of Helen left us with a 40-pound bag of chopped corn. Eventually I broadcast the corn under the bird feeders. The cardinals and the mourning doves showed up. I have not ever had doves feeding at the feeders. Doves are rather heavy, cumbersome birds that undoubtedly feed better on the ground. Along with the cardinals and the doves are tiny brown birds – assorted sparrows. They are so eager to eat amid the frigid cold and rainstorms it is not unusual to see two birds feeding through one tiny opening. One bird takes a seed; then another bird takes a seed. All of our birds seem quite cordial to one another with the exception of male cardinals. That’s a different story. Before the storms we had flocks of robins but it appears they have moved south awaiting more suitable weather.
As for the lake drainage, looks like with all the rainstorms it will take a bit longer. What is that saying? “Better to have loved a cat, a rabbit, a goldfish, a duck and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at msdeltachild@msn.com.
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