Flunking Another Test

Welp, I flunked another basic human intelligence test. This one involves the process of grinding your own coffee. The idea behind grinding coffee is fairly straightforward: you drop whole pre-roasted beans into a grinder, press a button, and the grinder reduces the beans to grounds that collect in a receiving vessel below.

Thing is, there are no honest shortcuts here. You can’t grind coffee if you forget to drop in the beans. You get nothing if you neglect to press the button. And you produce a grand mess if you forget to place the receiving vessel below the grinder.

So, as you might have surmised from the photograph I shared, I neglected to place the vessel below the grinder before I pressed the button and fluttered off to find some potato chips, which I should not be eating. The photograph features what I found when I returned to the task at hand.

My Coffee Mess

—Mitchell Hegman

America (An Explanation)

Let me tell you about America. To begin, we have an inordinate number of actors, realtors, car salesmen, and oilmen. We also have a few cowboys. One of the cowboys once stepped inside a café where I was eating breakfast and teased our good-looking waitress. That occurred in a town named Wisdom. Wisdom is just down the road, a statement that has a nice, distinct ring to it. Wisdom, Montana, and West Yellowstone, Montana, seem perpetually to compete to provide America's coldest temperature during the daily winter weather reports.

America: the nation.

America is a great military force. Some of our forces are presently hovering over a country called Iran, which, coincidentally, has a few oilmen and lots of oil.

We, I mean America, again, also landed men on the moon and returned them home. On a smaller scale, we sometimes carefully cut women open and insert fake boobs in them. Long before this stuff, some of our soldiers chased Indian men, women, and children across mostly barren plains. Just up the road a spell (as they like to say here) is the Big Hole National Battlefield. At that location, in August of 1877, the Nez Perce fought against the 7th Infantry Regiment.

In other words, they fought against America.

As an American, I like birds.

—Mitchell Hegman

Stuck With a Memory

I struggle to recall names. I can’t remember why I go from room to room. Yet I recall with perfect clarity the long-past midnight hour, many years ago, when my two cats and I chased a mouse from kitchen to living room and back again, me with a large cooking pot into which I eventually scooped the mouse.

Of what value is this clear memory when I land in my kitchen today having forgotten my purpose?

—Mitchell Hegman

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