by Wilson Rawls
“That was nice of your grandma,” Mama said. “Did you thank her for the bread?”
I thought for a second, and said, “I don’t know, Mama, if I did or not. She gave me some pie and I thanked her for that, but I could have forgotten to thank her for the bread.”
With a hurt look on her face, Daisy said, “Jay Berry, you should be ashamed of yourself. Grandma has been so good to us and you can’t even thank her when she gives us something.”
“Aw, now, Daisy,” I said, glaring at her, “don’t make it sound like I had burned the barn down. I didn’t do it on purpose. I just have so many things on my mind I can’t think straight any more.”
“It’s those monkeys,” Mama said, disgustedly, “that’s what it is. I suppose you and your grandpa have it all figured out how you’re going to catch them.”
“We sure have,” I said. “Grandpa really came up with a good idea this time.”
“How are you going to catch them?” Daisy asked.
“With a net,” I said.
“A net!” Daisy said. “What kind of net?”
“Oh, it’s just a net on the end of a long pole,” I said. “It opens and shuts.”
Daisy giggled. “Jay Berry, you’re going to keep messing around with those monkeys and they’ll catch you,” she said. “That’s what’s going to happen.”
Mama laughed and said, “That’s probably what will happen.”
“Go ahead and laugh,” I said, heading for the door. “It won’t be so funny when I catch those monkeys and make all that money. And I’m going to catch them—you just wait and see.”
Very disgusted with the women in our family, I went and got my net, called Rowdy, and headed for the barn lot.
“Come on, Rowdy,” I said, “let’s see if we can catch something with this thing.”
I had no trouble finding something I could try to catch in the net. We had seven geese: six hen geese and one old gander. I found them out behind the barn, scratching around in the dirt. It was easy to get along with the hen geese, but it was different with the gander. He was the meanest old goose that ever honked a honk. Daisy had named him “Gandy.”
As far back as I could remember, Gandy and I had been bitter enemies. He was a sneaky old goose, always coming up behind me, and trying his best to twist a chunk of meat out of my sitting-down place. I had plotted to do away with Gandy a dozen times, but in some way he always survived every one of my plans.
The nearest I came to doing away with Gandy was the time I came in from fishing and leaned my pole up against the house. I had forgotten and left a nice fat worm wadded up on the hook. Gandy found the juicy tidbit and swallowed it—worm, hook, line, sinker, and all. We had no goose doctors in the country, and all Mama could do was cut the line and let Gandy fare for himself.
For about a month, Gandy walked around with a stiff neck. Every time he honked he would jump straight up about three feet. He was a tough old goose though—I have to say that much for him—because he lived after swallowing the fish hook and got meaner and meaner.
Rowdy hated every feather on Gandy’s body. In the summer when it would get too hot for Rowdy to sleep under the house, he would go out in our yard in the shade of the red oak trees and dig himself a sleeping hole down in the ground where it was cool. This would please Gandy very much. He would honk his delight to the four winds, walk around as though he wasn’t paying any attention until Rowdy got comfortable and went to sleep. Then he’d sneak in and get Rowdy by the tail or one of his long tender ears. Every time this happened, there would be a terrible fight and goose feathers would fly everywhere.
Gandy had been in so many fights he was scarred up like a back alley tomcat, which didn’t seem to help his meanness at all. He would get up in the morning looking for a fight, and when he went to bed he dreamed about fighting. He was just a mean old goose and that’s all there was to it.
“Rowdy,” I said, eying Gandy, “I think this is a good time to get even with that old goose for all the times he has pecked us, don’t you?”
Rowdy seemed to understand that I was planning some kind of trouble for Gandy and was very pleased about it.
Holding the pole out in front of me as far as I could reach, I pulled the yellow ring, darted in, slapped the net over Gandy, and jerked the blue ring.
At first Gandy wasn’t too scared. He thought it was just another fight and started fighting back at the net. He hissed, and he pecked, and he honked. He beat at the net with his wings and flounced all over the place.
Holding onto the pole and grinning like a possum eating briers, I said to no one in particular, “Boy, Grandpa was right. If I ever got a monkey in this thing I sure would have him.”
It didn’t take Gandy long to realize that whatever it was that had hold of him wasn’t going to turn him loose and was much more than he could handle. He got scared then and let out a honk that sounded like a foghorn with a bad cold.
Rowdy must have known that a storm was brewing. He took off for the house as fast as he could run and disappeared under the porch.
By this time, Gandy was sure that his little goose world was coming to an end, and he was very unhappy about it.
I was so pleased about how my net had worked I didn’t think about being scared until Old Rowdy ran out on me. Jerking the yellow ring, I started to dump Gandy out of the net. I saw right away that it was impossible. Gandy had gotten his feet and head through the mesh in the net and the rest of him was so tangled up in the cord that I couldn’t dump him out. I even tried to shake him out of the net and couldn’t.
Regardless of how ugly and mean Gandy was, the hen geese must have thought a lot of him. On hearing his call for help, they started hissing and honking. Then, as if they had all made up their minds at the same time, they lowered their bills within an inch of the ground and here they came to Gandy’s rescue.
I was kicking at the hen geese with both feet and trying my best to get rid of Gandy when I heard a noise behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw it was Daisy. She took one look at what was going on, and her mouth and eyes flew open at the same time.
“Jay Berry,” she shouted, “what are you doing to Gandy?”
“I’m not doing anything to the old fool, but trying to turn him loose,” I shouted back.
“Mama! Mama!” Daisy yelled. “You’d better come quick! Jay Berry’s killing Old Gandy!”
I heard the back door slam, and Mama came running; wanting to know what in the world was going on.
“Look, Mama!” Daisy shouted, pointing with her hand. “Just look what he’s doing!”
Gandy was making so much racket with his hissing and honking and flapping around, it took Mama a few seconds to figure things out. Then she yelled at me. “Jay Berry, what on earth are you doing? You turn that goose loose.”
“I’m trying to turn him loose, Mama,” I shouted. “Can’t you see that?”
Mama could see that Gandy was tangled up in the net. “Well, hold him still,” she shouted. “He’s going to kill himself.”
“I can’t hold him still, Mama,” I shouted. “He’s gone crazy.”
Daisy was almost bawling. “You’d go crazy, too,” she shouted, “if someone caught you in that silly old net.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mama said, “something has to be done.”
Closing her eyes and turning her head sideways, she darted in and grabbed Gandy up in her arms—net and all. This scared Gandy more than ever. He figured that he was surely headed for the pot and was telling the whole wide world that he didn’t like it at all.
By this time I was so scared I couldn’t even run. I just stood there holding onto the pole and waiting for what I knew was coming from Mama.
Working together, Mama and Daisy unwound Gandy from the net and turned him loose. Gandy didn’t even wait to get his breath. He ran faster than I had ever seen him run for about ten feet, and then he took to the air. He sailed around the barn, up over the house and the red oak trees. Honking every foot of the
way, he sailed on down over our fields and disappeared in the river bottoms.
For several seconds after Gandy had faded from sight, we stood in silence, and stared at the spot where he had disappeared.
With her black eyes shooting fire, Mama turned to me and said, “Jay Berry, I hope you’re satisfied. We’ve just lost the best goose we ever had.”
“Aw, Mama,” I said, in a quavering voice, “that old goose wasn’t hurt. He’ll be back. You couldn’t make him stay away from these hen geese.”
“No, Gandy won’t be back,” Daisy wailed. “He won’t ever come back, and I don’t blame him one bit. Jay Berry, I don’t know about you. I just don’t know.”
“I know one thing,” Mama said, in a hard voice. “If you don’t get rid of that net, young man, you’re going to be in a worse fix than Gandy is. Now, you better believe that.”
I did believe Mama, too. I believed every word she said.
Just then Papa came in from the field, riding one of our mules. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I never heard so much racket.”
“It’s Jay Berry, Papa,” Daisy said. “He scared Old Gandy clean out of the country.”
Papa looked at me and said, “I saw that goose, but I didn’t think it was one of ours. I thought it was a wild one. He was really traveling. What happened anyway?”
“Aw, nothing happened, Papa,” I said. “Grandpa gave me this net to catch those monkeys. I wanted to see how it would work—so I tried it out on Gandy.”
Papa looked at the net. As he got down from the mule’s back, he laughed and said, “I don’t think we have to worry about Gandy not coming back. He’s scared now, but he’ll get over that and come looking for these hen geese.”
“That’s what I tried to tell Mama and Daisy, Papa,” I said, “but you can’t tell them anything. They think Gandy is clear over in Arkansas by now.”
Papa laughed. “I don’t think Gandy has made it to Arkansas yet,” he said, “but if he keeps on going like he was the last time I saw him, it won’t take him long to get there.”
The way Papa was laughing and making a joke out of everything, I didn’t think it would hurt if I laughed a little, too. I never should have laughed right then because it made Mama madder than ever.
“Jay Berry,” she snapped, “you won’t think it’s so funny if I make you go to your room and do without your supper.”
This scared all of the laughter out of me. If there was one thing I dreaded, it was having to stay in my room. I would much rather have been hung by my heels to a white oak tree.
“Mama,” I said in desperation, “you can’t make me go to my room now. I have to go down in the bottoms tonight and dig a hole.”
I thought Mama would really have a fit when I said that. “Dig a hole!” she said, in a loud voice. “Jay Berry, you’re not going down in those bottoms at night to dig any holes. Why, whoever heard of such a thing?”
“But I have to, Mama,” I pleaded. “That’s the only way I’ll ever catch those monkeys.”
Mama must have seen that I was desperate. “I can’t see where digging a hole could have anything to do with catching monkeys,” she said, “but if you’re so all-fired set on it, you can go down there tomorrow and dig it. But you’re not going tonight and that’s all there is to it.”
“It wouldn’t do any good to dig the hole in the daytime, Mama,” I said. “That big monkey would see me, and he’s so smart I wouldn’t have a chance of catching one of them. I have to dig it at night while those monkeys are asleep.”
Daisy squealed with laughter as she took off around the barn. “Jay Berry,” she said, “if you dig that hole, those monkeys will push you in it and cover you up, sure as shootin’.”
“Now, there she goes again, Mama,” I cried, “laughing and making fun of me. Why don’t you make her stop?”
If there was one thing that could help Mama get over one of her mad spells, it was to hear Daisy laugh.
“Jay Berry,” Mama said, “your little sister is not making fun of you. If she wants to laugh, you let her laugh and don’t you say anything about it.”
Before I could say anything, Papa stepped in and said to Mama, “Now hold on just a minute. I think you women are carrying things a little too far. I can’t see anything wrong with a boy wanting to catch a few monkeys.” Looking at me, Papa said, “What’s this about digging a hole?”
I explained the plan Grandpa had come up with to catch the monkeys.
Taking the net from me, Papa looked at it and said, “What are these rings and strings for?”
“That’s what works the net, Papa,” I said. “When you pull the yellow ring, it opens, and the blue ring closes it.”
Papa started pulling first one ring and then the other. I saw a pleased look spread over his face. “Say, I think you’ve got something this time,” he said. “Did you have any trouble catching Gandy in it?”
“Heck no, Papa,” I said. “I had Gandy caught before he knew what was happening. I believe it’s the very thing for catching those monkeys, don’t you?”
Still jerking at the rings and watching the net open and close, Papa said, “It looks to me if you could catch a goose in it, you could surely catch a monkey. I’ll tell you what—let’s have some supper and I’ll go down in the bottoms with you and help dig that hole.”
Mama gasped as if she had swallowed too much air. Looking at Papa like she couldn’t believe what she had heard, she snapped, “Maybe we’d better just quit farming and start catching monkeys.”
Papa laughed and said, “That may not be a bad idea. We could probably make more money catching monkeys than we can farming.”
Daisy had overheard Mama and Papa. She poked her head around the corner of the barn and said, “Jay Berry, if you and Mama and Papa catch those monkeys, I’ll hold the sack for you.”
This seemed to fix everything. Mama and Papa started laughing at Daisy. I was feeling so good about Papa going with me to dig the hole, I laughed a little, too.
Right after supper, while Papa was putting some coal oil in the lantern, I went to the tool shed and got a pick and shovel.
“It might be a good idea to take the ax along,” Papa said. “We may run into some roots while we’re digging the hole.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, Papa,” I said. “We’ll run into some roots all right. You can’t dig an inch down in those bottoms without running into roots. I know, because Old Rowdy and I have tried to dig rabbits out of their holes down there.”
All excited, I ran and got the ax.
As we were leaving the house, Mama and Daisy came out on the porch to see us on our way.
Mama was still in a good humor. She laughed and said, “I hope no one sees my husband down in the river bottoms, at night, digging a hole. What would you tell people?”
“I’ll just tell them that we’re looking for a pot of gold,” Papa said. “Then everyone in the country will be digging holes. How will that be?”
Daisy squealed her delight and said, “Jay Berry, you’d better be careful. If you wake those monkeys up, they might get mad and run you clean out of the country.”
I wanted to say something back to Daisy but I figured that as long as Mama was in a good humor I had better leave well enough alone. So I just walked on like I hadn’t even heard what she had said.
Old Rowdy thought we were going possum hunting and he was raring to go. He came over, reared up on me, and all but busted my eardrums with his deep voice.
It was one of those warm, full-moon nights when it’s so bright it’s more like twilight in the evening than nighttime. Thousands of lightning bugs were dancing a flickering rhythm all around us. Overhead, I could hear the hissing whistles of feeding bats as they dipped and darted in the starlit sky.
From deep in the river bottoms, an old hooty owl was asking his age-old question, over and over, “Who-o-o, who-o-o, who-o-o are you? Who-o-o, who-o-o are you?”
If Papa hadn’t been with me I would have answered him by saying, “I a
m the booger man. I’m coming to get you.”
That usually shut old hooty up.
Feeling big and important, I said, “Papa, it sure is a pretty night, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Papa said. “Nights like this are good for planting. The soil gets warm and mellow. Everything you plant will pop up out of the ground before you know it.”
Right then I wasn’t interested in any old green thing popping up out of the ground. I was interested in monkeys, ponies, .22s, and things like that.
Papa said, “It’s going to be a lot darker in the bottoms than it is out here in the fields. Do you think you can find that monkey tree?”
“Oh, sure, Papa,” I said. “I could find that monkey tree if I had a cotton sack over my head. You just follow me.”
It wasn’t as easy finding the tree as I thought it would be. Several times I got on the wrong trail but I finally found it.
Setting the lantern down on the ground, Papa said, “Where do you think we should dig the hole?”
“Oh, anywhere, Papa,” I said, looking around. “One place is as good as another, just so it’s close to this bur oak tree.”
Picking out a small opening in the underbrush, Papa raked the dead leaves and sticks to one side with the shovel and started digging. Every time Papa ran into a root he would rest while I hacked away with the ax. The rich black soil was soft and easy digging. In no time we had a good-size hole dug.
Climbing out of the hole, Papa said, “How does that look? Do you think it’s deep enough?”
I looked the hole over and said, “There’s one way to be sure, Papa. Rowdy and I will get down in it and see how it fits.”
Papa chuckled and said, “Do you think you can get Rowdy down in the hole?”
“Oh, I won’t have any trouble doing that, Papa,” I said. “Old Rowdy will do just about anything I ask him to do. There’s only one thing he won’t do. He won’t help me fight wasp nests. He won’t have any part of that.”
Still chuckling, Papa said, “Well, you can’t hardly blame him for that.”
I got down in the hole and called to Rowdy.
