He shuffled out to the patio with his hospital pants barely on, sagging down on one hip while he repeatedly pulled on them. The loss of 60 lbs had taken its toll on his 6,3 ” frame. A UW Plativille sweatshirt, a stocking hat with a Ducks un Limited logo. He hated hats and never wore one because it had always matted his hair, but it made no difference now and it was appeasing his mother. Sheepskin slippers that his sister had given him for his 19th birthday were perfect to make the move out to the patio on these spring afternoons although the adrenaline of his action kept him warm.
Being 1976 there was no cable tv, DVR, Netflix, and not even DVDs, or videos. Only 3 maybe 4 channels on a good day. In the afternoons the only thing on those channels were soap operas and for a 19-year-old man, it was not enough to entertain or keep his attention. He had loved to read stories of being outdoors. camping, hunting anything with outdoor adventures. The treatment had affected his eyes and had ended his ability to continue because of the tremendous headaches that would follow every sentence.
He had started after his mother had left for work to sneak outside in the middle of winter and just sit in his yellow blazer with the engine running and the 8-track blaring his favorite, Dejavu by Crosby Stills and Nash. The harmonies gave him goosebumps and he would interject his raspy treatment effect voice giving it no mind and giving him a moment of his life before his diagnosis.
The large bird feeder on the patio was filled every morning by his father before he left for work. He really enjoyed the arrival of the spring birds along with the ones that had stayed all winter. He imagined that he was one of those tough birds that could withstand a Wisconsin winter. He had envy for their freedom but most of all the birds socializing; his world had become so small. Most of his friends were finishing their frosh year of college and most were not even aware of his malady.
Goldfinches, Nuthatches, Cardinals, Black-capped Chickadee, Bluejay, brought him joy and gave him the ability to escape the reality of being in the hospital bed his parents had set up for him in the den or as the family called it the TV room. Before he had got sick it was the place that the family would gather to enjoy Sunday TV: his parents in their respective chairs his brother and sister on the couch and him on the floor with their beagle Snoop. How he longed for those Sundays.
He had just hated the Starling (Sturnus vulgaris). They would come in large numbers to the feeder. Chasing all the other birds away and wrecking one of the few joys he had left. The TV room had Casement windows and his mother took out the screens every winter so there was a better view into the little woods behind their home. Being a crack shot he decided that he could maybe chase the pesty nuisance away. A plan need to be hatched as he knew his parents would not stand for a loaded gun in the house needless to say shooting one.
The timing was everything. He needed to avoid getting caught and that would require logistics. Getting the 22. out of the gun safe after his parents went to work. Being able to crank the window open without scaring the Starlings. Not hurting any of the other birds he loved. Making sure that the smell of gun powder wasn’t lingering in the air when his parents returned. Then get the 22 back in the gun safe.
So the time had come to put his plan of exterminating the Starlings from his feeder giving more space for the birds he so loved in place. Everything went perfectly. He made it down the basement even though it wasn’t easy to retrieve the 22. with the muscle mass he had lost. He cranked the window open hanging a towel in front of it acting like a blind and keeping the 35-degree weather from entering the house. He waited patiently for his nemesis to arrive. He was a crack shot: he had been hunting since a young age. He took aim as they arrived in mass, He squeezed the trigger and the birdshot downed way more than he had imagined leaving way too much evidence and creating another issue. He needed to dispose of the evidence in a way to not get busted so he could continue his mission.
Only one neighbor could see a bit of the back yard so he needed to be quick in his recovery. So the vision of his skinny ravaged frame dressed in hospital pants, sheep skinned slippers, and a stocking hat picking up liquidated Starlings must have been a sight to see.
He recovered from his cancer but it had taken a toll on his body over the years. He made the absolute best of his life that he could until he was 55. We drifted apart and viewed the world differently in many ways but we always found a way back to our connection as children and the time in the world where kids could be feral. We always made attempt to stay in contact. As hard as it was at times we never forgot our connection I miss him and think of him often. As different we were, we always remained Freinds.
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