by Lois Lenski
Elmer climbed up the ladder and pulled the nests down. He threw them on the ground. Dick climbed up after him and tacked the red ribbons in place, while Donna watched from below.
“After dark,” said Elmer, “you can go out to that tree and catch a sparrow in your hand.”
“You can?” said Dick.
“Oh yes,” said Elmer. “They can’t see too good. Last night I caught about twenty of them.”
“What did you do with them?” asked Dick.
“Fed them to our dog Pooch,” said Elmer. “He likes them. All but three. I gave them to the cat.”
“Do you just pick them off the limb of a tree?” asked Dick.
“Yes,” said Elmer. “They roost there after dark.”
“They don’t hear us coming,” said Donna. “We go kinda tiptoeing.”
“Oh!” said Dick. “I should think destroying their nests would be enough. That ought to make them go somewhere else.”
“Not with sparrows,” said Elmer. “They come right back and build another nest. My Dad says they’re the worst pests on the place—except pigeons.”
“You don’t like pigeons?” asked Dick.
“They’re terrible,” said Elmer. “They follow the cows around and scare them. They even ride on their backs!”
“They like the loose corn,” said Dick. “That’s why they are always around a corncrib. Ours never get tame. They land on a shed and just talk to us. You walk up to them and they fly away.”
“Some people like to eat them,” said Donna.
“We do,” said Elmer. “I’ll get my BB gun and we’ll shoot some and ask Mom to cook them for dinner.”
“We used to have a pure white pigeon that stayed on our barn,” said Donna.
“A pure white one would be pretty,” said Dick.
Elmer brought out his BB gun and the children went to the barnyard. A row of pigeons sat on the roof of the barn.
“They make good targets,” Elmer said, “sitting on the roof like that. It’s so easy to shoot up.”
Mr. Ruden came out and said, “Hi, Dick.” He brought his shotgun. He turned to Elmer and said, “You let Dick shoot first. Give him your BB gun.”
“No,” said Dick. “I don’t want to shoot.”
“It’s safe,” said Mr. Ruden. “When you aim up, you’re not likely to hit someone. I always tell the kids to shoot up.”
“It’s not that,” said Dick. “I know it’s safe. I’m not afraid of hitting people. I just don’t want to hit pigeons.”
“You don’t?” Elmer and his Dad laughed. Elmer explained, “Dick likes to make pets out of pigeons too, I suppose.”
“What would I want to kill one for?” asked Dick. “I figure a pigeon likes to be alive just as much as a person does. Why kill it?”
Elmer and Mr. Ruden said nothing, but Donna spoke up, “Dick thinks they’re cute and so do I.”
“They’re good to eat,” said Elmer.
“It’s a lot of work to pick the feathers and dress the little things,” said Donna. “Mom hates it. It takes about four for a meal for a family like ours. Mom roasts them in the oven.”
“They’re good for fish bait, too,” said Mr. Ruden.
“Oh boy,” said Elmer, “do the fish ever go for pigeon bait! Pop, if we get one, let’s you and me go fishing.”
Mr. Ruden smiled and cocked his gun. After the first shot, the pigeons on the roof flew away. Pooch, the dog, jumped around, excited.
“There’s hundreds more roosting up in the hayloft,” said Elmer.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Dick. “I’ll go up in the hayloft and chase more pigeons out for you.”
Dick was glad to get away from the shooting. He climbed the ladder into the hayloft and after each shot, he chased a few pigeons out of the top window. He counted six shots of the shotgun and two of the BB gun. Then he heard the dog barking and general excitement. Maybe they had killed one.
But Dick was not listening any more. He did not care what the Rudens were doing. He had found a young pigeon—a pure white one. It was sitting on a joist above the hay. It could fly only a little way. He picked it up and it showed no fear. He stroked its neck. He cuddled it in his hands.
“You’re not hurt, are you, Susanna?”
He had a name for it already. He would feed it and tame it. Soon it would eat out of his hand. It was so young, it would make a nice pet.
When Dick came down, the Rudens were excited over the pigeon Elmer had shot. Pooch had brought it back and Mr. Ruden was cutting it up for fish bait. They were starting off for the creek to go fishing.
Only Donna looked at the white pigeon.
“It’s cute,” she said, “with its pink eyes. That white one I used to see must have been this one’s mother.”
“Do you want it?” Dick held the pigeon out to her. “Take it. It’s yours. It will make a nice pet.”
“Oh, you take it, Dick,” said Donna. “We don’t fool with pets around here the way you do. I’m going fishing with Elmer and Dad. Don’t you wan’t to go, too?”
“No,” said Dick. “I’m going home. So long.”
He watched Donna go running across the barnyard to join her father and brother. He himself took off in the opposite direction, across the fields toward home. He knew just what he would do. He would make a cage out of chicken wire. He would have to keep Susanna in a cage while she was so young. He must keep her safe from the dogs and cats.
Back home, he showed the white pigeon to Margy. He let her hold it a while. He put it down on the ground. It walked a few steps, then he caught it again. He went to the tool house and Margy held the pigeon while he wired a cage together. He brought bread and milk and the pigeon ate. He put Susanna in her cage and hung the cage up on the house porch. He covered it with a cloth and the bird went to sleep, making cooing noises.
Mom made a fuss about the pigeon. She was tired of having pets in the house. She reminded Dick of the runt Squeaky, the sow Susie, the rabbit Peter, the rooster Peaches, the goose Mother Goosey, the chipmunk Chippy, the dog Popcorn, to say nothing of old Buster.
“Haven’t you enough pets?” she asked.
“No,” said Dick. “I’m trying to find a young woodchuck now. They tame easy, and I’ll name him Chucky. I’ve always wanted a lizard or a salamander. You don’t have to feed them—they live off of air! And I’ll never be happy until I get a raccoon.”
“You can’t keep wild things penned up,” Mom reminded him. “You always have to let them go again.”
“I know it,” said Dick. “They come and they go. Susie and Peter and Chippy are gone. Squeaky and Peaches and Mother Goosey are still here. And Popcorn—I don’t know what I’d do without Popcorn.”
Popcorn began to bark at Susanna, and Dick scolded him.
But as much as he wanted to keep her, the white pigeon did not stay long. The next time Dick took her out, she started to fly. She flew up on the peak of the kitchen roof and sat there. Dick brought a ladder and climbed to the top.
He edged up over the roof as gently as he could. Susanna’s bright eye kept watching him. He picked her up and held her. At the edge of the roof stood a tall lightning rod. It had a beautiful blue glass ball for ornament. Dick looked at the colors in the ball—the bird’s white feathers and its shining pink eye. He could see all the red farm buildings with their sharp white trim reflected in it. He held the pigeon up beside the blue glass ball and let her study her reflection. Then he climbed down and put her back in her cage.
That same evening, Margy left the door of Susanna’s cage open. The pigeon flew out across the porch. Then it fluttered out the door and landed on the ground. Bob-bob, the cat, asleep on the walk, woke up and made a dash for the bird. But Dick got there first and rescued his pet.
He could feel the bird’s heart beating when he picked her up.
“That was a close call, Susanna,” he said. “You stay in your cage now, like a good girl.”
The next day he hung the cage out in the c
edar tree in the house yard. After Susanna learned to fly, he left the cage door open every day. He wanted her to feel free and get used to her freedom. She knew her home and came back to it for rest and sleep. She began to fly with the other pigeons in the feed lot, where they found plenty of grain. Dick did not need to feed her.
After a while she stopped coming. Sometimes Dick would see a white pigeon in the flock at the barn. Sometimes he searched for her in vain. There was no white one to be seen.
“Where have you gone, Susanna?” he cried. “Have you left me for good?”
It was Saturday, the last day of Wilma’s detasseling job. She came home at four o’clock, wearing a cotton dress, which she had taken with her that morning. She had her final check to show and exciting news to tell the family.
“We worked only half a day,” she said. “There wasn’t much to do, the field was so clean. But Flossie Miller stepped on a snake and all the girls ran to the truck! In the afternoon we had a picnic. They took us down by a creek and we all went wading. We ducked each other to get clean—and we ducked Russell and Ernie too. Then the boys sliced watermelons and how we did eat! After that, guess what we did.”
“Tell us, tell us,” cried Margy.
“We changed to our dresses inside the truck,” Wilma went on. “Ernie built up a big bonfire for us. We threw all our dirty blouses and jeans on the fire and watched them burn, while we sang all the songs we knew. We sang till we all got hoarse. Detasseling was hard work and we were glad it was over—until next year.”
“What will you do now?” asked Dick.
“Have a big shopping spree for back-to-school clothes,” said Wilma. “Can we go to town, Dad?”
“It’s Saturday night,” said Dad with a smile. “When would we ever see our friends if we didn’t go to town on Saturday night? Who wants spending money?”
Dad tossed a quarter to Margy and a half dollar to Dick. “How much did you make all together?” he asked Wilma.
“Seventy dollars,” said Wilma proudly.
“Whew!” Dick whistled. “All that for clothes?”
“You buying a trousseau?” teased Raymond.
“I’m going to put half of it in the bank,” said Wilma, “and use the other half for clothes. Most of the girls are doing that.”
Everybody rushed to get the chores done early. After supper, the family dressed up in neat, freshly washed clothes. Mark Hoffman brought the old Hudson around to the house-yard gate and sounded the horn. Raymond came running in from the barn.
“The hogs are out,” he said. “We’ll have to get them back in before we go.”
“Now who left that gate open?” scolded Dad.
“Nobody,” said Raymond. “The hogs rooted it open.”
The spring pigs, farrowed in March, had grown into fifty-pound shoats and then, after six months, into two hundred-pound hogs. All summer they had been fed a hearty diet of oats and corn, and fattened on clover. They would soon be ready for market. Whenever they got out of their lot, they did plenty of damage. They rooted up the yard, upset everything moveable and tore up flowers and plants.
“We’ll have to get the hogs rings out and fill their snouts,” said Dad, “to stop this fence lifting.”
Dad and the boys chased the hogs.
“Where’s Buster?” shouted Dad. “Where’s that dog? Always off somewhere else when you need him.”
Dick whistled and Buster came bounding up.
“Bring ’em in, Buster,” called Dad. “Nip ’em on the leg and put ’em where they belong.”
Buster started bravely after the hogs. But when a fat one turned around and looked at him, the dog ran the other way with his tail between his legs.
“That dog’s no good,” shouted Dad. “He’s a coward.”
“He just don’t like hogs, Dad,” said Dick.
“A hog is like a mule for stubbornness,” said Dad. “Always wants to go in the wrong direction.”
It was Popcorn who helped most. Soon the hogs were back in the hog lot. Dick ran to see that the gate was tightly closed.
Just inside the fence he saw a hog lying down. He went in and looked at it. It did not move. It was Squeaky grown up, Susie’s runt that he had cared for and fattened. He had tamed her and sometimes led her around the barnyard on a leash. He had taught her to sit down politely and beg for an ear of corn. But he had made up his mind not to play with her too much, because then he would hate to see her go when the time came.
What was the matter with Squeaky? He spoke to her, but she did not look up. He rubbed her back of the ears, but she did not respond. She was breathing heavily. He knew she was sick.
Honk! Honk! Raymond was sounding the horn impatiently. Dick came out and closed the gate. He braced it so the hogs could not root it open. He ran for the car. Dad and Raymond were in the front seat, and Mom and the girls were in the back.
“Dad,” said Dick, “there’s a hog sick down there.”
“Sick?” said Dad. “They didn’t look sick to me, the way they chased around.”
“This one is lying down inside the fence,” said Dick. “It’s Squeaky.”
“Oh, that little runt!” laughed Raymond. “Dick just loves to have his pets get sick …”
“So he can doctor them,” added Margy. “His name is Doctor Dick!”
“Oh, get in, Dick,” said Wilma, “let’s go.”
“Dad, don’t you think we’d better do something?” asked Dick.
“Get in,” said Dad. “We’re going to town now.”
“But Dad—” began Dick.
“It’s always this way,” said Wilma. “Every time we want to go anywhere, something happens to the hogs.”
“I’ll stay here, Dad,” said Dick.
“Get in,” said Dad. “She’ll be all right by morning. We’re all set to go to town now.”
Dick climbed in the car. All the way to town, he listened to Wilma talking clothes with Mom in the back seat.
Town was crowded. All the stores were open and the curbs were lined with parked cars. Town and country people were enjoying a social evening, visiting with each other. They walked up and down the sidewalks of the two blocks where the stores were. Some sat on benches, while others leaned against the fenders of parked cars. They went in the stores and came out with big bundles in their arms.
“I’m going with Dad,” said Margy.
“I know why,” Dick said to Mom. “Dad will buy her more treats. That’s what she thinks.”
“Well, I don’t want her hanging around us,” said Wilma. “Let her go.”
Wilma and Mom went into the department store.
“You coming, Dick?”
“No,” said the boy.
Raymond strolled off to join a group of older boys, so Dick followed behind Dad and Margy. One side of the street was considered the men’s side, the other the ladies’. On the men’s side there were two feed stores, a hardware store, the postoffice closed now and several cafés. The men had the coffee habit.
“Come on in, let’s have a cup of coffee,” said Bill Heiter to Mark Hoffman. They started to enter Muff’s Café.
“You stay here with me, Margy,” called Dick.
Margy did not look back or listen. She went right in with the men.
“You think you’re gonna get a hamburger?” grinned Dick.
Margy nodded and smiled. The screen door closed behind her.
Dick strolled along the street. He passed the Good Morning Feed Store. It had a three-foot chick hatching out of its shell for its trademark. He looked at the metal hens’ nests and the gaily colored printed sacks filled with chicken feed. He strolled over to the red and white popcorn stand at the corner. He bought a sack of popcorn and walked along munching it. He stopped and sat down on a bench by the gutter. Inside the store window a television set was running. He watched the program. A stagecoach came dashing up pulled by four galloping horses. He saw the bandits jump up from the bushes and start shooting the passengers. He looked at the other people cr
owded on the bench and leaning on near-by cars. They all seemed to like it. He got up quickly.
“Hey, where are you going?” asked the person next to him.
Dick looked. It was his cousin Earl, Uncle Henry’s boy. “Come, stay here,” said Earl. “It’s just getting exciting.”
Dick walked on. He could not get his mind off that sick hog and he wished he had stayed at home. He crossed the street to the other side. He passed hatless fat men in shirt sleeves and suspenders. He saw Rita Hass and Donna Ruden strolling hand-in-hand with two town girls. He passed women with hair tightly kinked by new permanents. He saw Mrs. Heiter by her car with a wet washcloth, washing her little boy’s face. He saw Mr. Hass lifting little Peggy up to drink from the water bubbler at the corner.
“Hello, Dick,” said Mr. Hass. “Is it hot enough for you?”
“Sure,” said Dick.
“This heat and humidity makes me feel like a steam engine,” said Mr. Hass.
“I have to hang my tongue out once in a while to get my breath.” The man’s voice and the joke sounded familiar.
Dick looked around. There was Uncle Henry. He came up with Aunt Etta and Denny and the twins, Betsy and Patsy. They were all dressed in pretty summer clothes with flowered patterns.
“When you coming out to the farm to see us?” Dick asked the girls.
“Never again,” said Betsy, “as long as I live.”
“Get rid of all those skunks and we’ll come,” said Patsy.
Dick laughed. “Oh, we just keep them for special visitors.”
“Have you seen Earl?” asked Aunt Etta.
“Yes,” said Dick. “He’s looking at television down by the feed store. Uncle Henry, I found one of the hogs acting sick at home just before we left.”
“Sick?” asked Uncle Henry. “What was wrong with it?”
They were standing in front of Dirks’ Department Store. Mom and Wilma came out with packages in their arms. Uncle Henry began to joke with Wilma about her detasseling job. The sick hog was forgotten. Wilma told her cousins about the lovely new clothes she was buying with her money.
“Aw, nuts!” Dick turned away. “Let’s go home.”
