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| (The Creek) |
Watching my children create an entire pirate kingdom on our patio brought to mind a favorite imaginary world I had shared with my younger brother.
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| (Mopsy and two spring babies.) |
I can remember pretending to be hunters. We would get the perfect stick and stalk the goats through the brush (my parents had a goat farm and we had endless games involving the live stock). One afternoon though we expanded the game, thanks to my brother getting his hands on a pellet rifle. Now don’t worry about the goats, we where smart enough to know shooting them was a quick way into my folks bad books. We decided, instead, to travel down river and seek out an ever worthy prey…squirrels and chipmunks.
The faithful orange Coleman canoe was loaded up, life jackets clipped on and we pushed off. The river was actually a creek that ran through the bottom of our small farm property. It was a very healthy water way, leading to many lakes and even a small set of rapids. Smooth flowing water, riddled with weeds just below the surface. It twists and turns, sleepily, around beds of floating weeds. Walled in by endless trees and bedrock, it is a true northern shield water way.
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| (The Munro Dock) |
I was guide. We sought out signs and sounds that meant our game was near by. I would let my brother off on land to do the hunting. As faithful guide I waited till I hear a shot and then let out a good ‘yahoo’ for his efforts. Never did he come back with proof of kill. Considering how many times we repeated this process I highly doubt he even came close to tagging a tree rodent of any kind.
It kept us incredibly busy and happy… till Mom honked the horn three times…. that was our get back home call. We where usually ready for the honk as our imaginative and wide wandering games often left us with healthy appetites.
My kids hunted down and buried treasure, fought the authorities and forced mates to walk the plank till supper; and they too ate well.
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| (My younger brother and I.) |
TTFN
