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Lately some crows have been hanging around my end of the neighborhood making a lot of noise. And I’m pretty sure they’re the ones responsible for the recent onslaught of poo bombs on my car. I noticed they have been especially noisy in the last few days as they have been busy pestering the local hawk.

This morning, I was a little stunned to see my car dusted with feathers and, just beside the car, lay the spoils of victory. The hawk had won. I haven’t seen any crows today. And I’m really hoping my car escapes the poo bomb in the morning. Go hawks!

I grew up at the end of a small street that backed up to a corner where a cotton field and cow pasture met. There was about a 4 acre patch of forest, “the woods” right behind our house. Beyond the woods was the cotton field. It was about 3/4 mile deep and mostly circular. On the northwest corner was the Indian mound. The eastern side bordered a corn field. The northern boundary of the cotton field bordered Big Red’s pasture.

Big Red, as the name implies, was a giant, rust-colored bull. A bull like Big Red needed no explanation. We knew he was dangerous.

All the neighborhod kids rode their bicycles and/or motorcycles around the cotton field like it was the local race track. During the summer, when the cotton was growing strong, riding the eastern edge of the field was off limits. But the south, west and northern borders had enough space between the cotton and the forest for a well traveled path.

All of the kids explored the Indian mound and the adjacent stream. It was my favorite place and it always seemed majestic. There was a small lake with some occassional fish in it on the western side of the Indian mound. It was the forbidden swimming hole. And it had a fantastic rope swing.

Big Red’s pasture was especially forbidden territory. Trespassing into his land was always a high intensity event because Big Red liked to stay hidden. We never knew from where he might charge. That’s why we had to sneak into his pasture. It was about a 50 yard dash to safety as there was an abandoned house in the middle of Red’s pasture. There were no roads or trails to that house. I always wondered who might have lived there long ago and why they seemed to live in the middle of nowhere.

I stopped by one day when I was by myself, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of the big bull. So I parked my motorcycle and walked over to the fence to survey the area. After a few minutes, I decided Red was away and I started back to my bike. And that’s when I saw the monster, standing in the cotton field on my side of the fence, staring at me.

There are moments in life when everything stops and you realize that it may all end very soon. And you beg. I pleaded with God, “Please let my motorcycle start on one crank…please don’t let him charge…please don’t let me die like this…” and 3.2 seconds later I was kicking up dust and running in high gear. I never looked back.