The Good Mother

When I arrived at the cabin on Saturday, I ejected from the truck and snuck through the firs and pines to shut down the game camera and retrieve the memory card. I took only a few paces before something stopped me in my tracks. A ruffed grouse basically flung itself at my feet and then began wobbling about with flared wings, acting as if wounded.

I know this routine. I was witnessing a good mother at work. She wanted to garner my attention and lead me away from her babies.

“I got you,” I assured the grouse. “I just need to get to the game camera.” Upon taking two more steps, I saw her tiny babies popcorning through the tall grass twenty or so feet to my left. After seeing them, I purposefully drifted to my left and stopped.

“Gather your kids,” I said evenly. “I’ll wait here for a bit.”

I allowed Mother Grouse to press on ahead of me so she could gather her chicks and ghost back into the forest understory.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Raven’s Demands

Apparently, I've done something to stir the local ravens into action. Whenever I'm outside the house watering trees, splitting wood for the coming winter, or merely wandering around having conversations with the flowers, they soon appear around me. A half dozen of them, perching on the solar array, swirling in a wide circle nearby, or settling like black flags in the nearby pines. All of them croaking or cawing incessantly, as if they've just realized I sometimes call them greasy birds.

Or might they be voicing demands? Maybe they want a raven-only birdbath with a decent view of the lake below. Perhaps they're insisting I wear paisley print shirts again (which I am willing to do). Or could it be they're urging me to be less friendly to snakes? And sometimes they sound like gravelly kazoos, which confounds me completely.

I don't grasp ravenspeak. I do, however, now understand why little birds so often mob them to chase them the hell away.

—Mitchell Hegman

Relearning a Lesson

I relearned a very important lesson yesterday. Perhaps you remember this one: you can’t walk through a doorway without first opening the door.

—Mitchell Hegman

More Phone Apps I would Like

Desiree and I recently upgraded to new smartphones. They came preloaded with a swath of apps and games we will never use. Vita Mahjong is one example. But that got me thinking about some apps I would enjoy having on my phone. Following is a list of those:

• A music app that converts songs you don't like into your choice of Stairway to Heaven or Knockin' on Heaven's Door.
• An app that locates the nearest bathroom.
• An app that emits a sound that will make ravens shut the hell up.
• A metal-cutting laser app.
• An app that remembers people's names for me.
• An app that makes hurt go away.
• An app that automatically slays spambots.
• An app that universally changes "creek" to "crick," the proper pronunciation for those of us who grew up in East Helena, Montana.
• An app that turns political arguments into recipes.

—Mitchell Hegman

Forgetting

"Take without forgetting, and give without remembering.”

—Bryant H. McGill

 

"I took revenge on hardship from my earlier life by forgetting it.”

—Alija Izetbegovic

 

"Don't blame the child for forgetting lessons; make the lessons unforgettable.”

—Sonam Wangchuk

The Blanketflower

In July of 1806, Meriwether Lewis crossed the Continental Divide near what is now the small town of Lincoln, Montana. There, on a hillside less than 10 miles from my house, he stopped long enough to collect a blanketflower. That pressed plant eventually became the type specimen for Gaillardia aristata, the scientific reference for the species. It also goes by the name firewheel.

Today, blanketflowers still bloom amid the grass in open spaces around my cabin. They also flourish in the gravelly ground just outside the bay window at my house.

Proud natives, these.

On his exploratory trek through what is now Montana, Meriwether Lewis had been charged with taking note of all new flora and fauna encountered along the way. Clearly, our showy, mid-season gaillardia screamed for his attention.

Today, the same flowers call for the attention of roving bumblebees outside my prairie home. And it seems fitting that, to test the camera on the new smartphone I brought into service just yesterday, I chose to photograph our showy native flower.

Not bad for a simple plant growing in gravel.

A Blanketflower at My House

—Mitchell Hegman 

To Sustain Me

On those occasions when I really need to dig deep to find a reason to be grateful, I have one ever-present item to sustain me: wood ticks find me very attractive.

—Mitchell Hegman