Drought
by Jake Barnes
It's a dry year, so the walnuts are falling early. They are black walnuts, too, and they make an awful mess. I guess we'll have to redo the decks and wooden walkways in the back yard when the tree is done shedding its crop. That may be awhile; the walnut is a huge tree. The trunk at its base is close to five feet in diameter.
Where we live, at the edge of the foothills at the east edge of town, fire is always a worry during the summer, and this has been an exceptionally dry year. No fires so far, but I am holding my breath. A spark would set the lawns on fire, too. You are permitted to water only twice a week.
Wild life is still abundant. We feed the jays and red squirrels. They gobble up the peanuts we put out every morning. The smaller birds crowd our feeder. The squirrels raid the feeder also, hanging upside down by their toes.
There is a good sized flock of wild turkeys that comb a plowed field across the street. Sometimes they invade our front yard. One day not long ago one of the huge birds perched on the fence in our back yard. We've lived here twenty years, and I've never seen that before. Everything is at sixes and sevens. Maybe even in the turkey world, too.
I love to have the critters around. The squirrels and crows, the turkeys and moles, the Oregon juncos patrolling the deck, looking for bugs and worms in the fallen walnuts. The jays, too. Yesterday morning my wife spotted a mama raccoon shepherding her babies along the fence in our back yard, no doubt teaching them to forage for food in a lean year.
What does it all mean? Global warming? Probably. The suicidal human race is still doing what it does best. Fighting, plundering, destroying, making life miserable for everybody and everything. What hath God wrought? Well, take a look around.
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Author's Note
Inspired by looking out the window. And watching the news on TV.
Oh, this so much resonated with what I think, when I look outside the window. Our mess.
Vivid and thought-provoking. ****
I like how this story begins and how it ends, which to me was a sort of narrative surprise, the narrator having one last say. *
Beautiful and disquieting. The turkey on the fence is a great image, so awkward and wrong.
Better the second time.*
I thought this sounded eerily familiar, and then I saw Amanda's comment, and I agree with her. It's even more poignant and foreboding than before. *
Enjoy the wildlife we have left. In 20 years its all going bye bye. We are at the beginning of the 6th Great Extinction. Everyone knows, no one cares, or, no one cares enough to do what has to be done to slow it down, and that's that. My daughter, who is in 2nd grade, told me last night that when she tries to think of the future all she sees is black, which I found a strange thing for a child to say. I might be reading more into that than I should, or maybe she is on to something. I faved your story because it made me think and that is a good enough reason to fave anything.
It's not just having a voice, it's having a voice readers want to listen to. That is this.
*
Subtle and slow in a strong way. Dark, but good. I like it.
Like watching the sun going down.
Thank you.
Lxx
I hate the news. I love the animals. Drink in each and every day out your window. *
A reminder. We are doomed.
I feel like I've just had a conversation with you, Jake.*
*, Jake. Such a dire forecast, so well-written.
Wonderful. Thanks for writing this. *
Late to the "party" on this. Thoughtful and troubling, and well put together.*
Just fantastic, Jake. *
Ain't it the truth here in CA where we not only have the conditions for the problem but also the IQ since upwards of 80% of the wildfires are caused by people. Worse, many of the arsonists know what they're doing. We're just one big Donner Party out here,sitting down to make a meal of each other. *
Want to borrow a bear?