Mississippi River boat ramp and river islands.
From his barstool at the Shotgun Shack Bar and Grill, Jack watched the Mississippi River flowing high and fast. He really would have preferred to be out on the river. But canoeing in fast water was a one-way trip, and he had no desire to be carried far downstream with no way to get back; the river could also be dangerous in a flood, with its turbulence, powerful eddies, and floating trees. So instead, Jack accepted merely looking at the river through several large picture windows located right behind the bar. He also viewed part of the town of Shotgun, Illinois, basically a few rundown cabins on stilts, a bait shop, and a poorly maintained gravel-bottomed boat ramp. One of the world’s great escape hatches, as most of the locals viewed it. Jack enjoyed being the only customer at the Shotgun, but that never lasted too long, especially as the noon hour approached.
“Another beer?” asked Donal Hayes, the Shotgun’s owner and bartender.
“Sure,” replied Jack.
“Run a tab for you today? We got Emma’s catfish special for lunch. Fresh from the river too.”
“Yeah, run a tab. Catfish sounds good.”
“Great,” said Donal.
Jack then abruptly grabbed his binoculars and focused his attention across the river’s side channel. There was a small bird walking on a log at Shell Island just above the water line.
“What’re you seeing out there Jack?” asked Donal.
“Spotted sandpiper.”
“A bird, I assume. Is that rare? I never heard a such a bird.”
“It’s not rare,” said Jack, “but my guess is that most people, other than birders, probably never heard of it either.”
“Yeah, you might be right. And you are the birdwatcher.”
“There are also hundreds of swallows flying back and forth just over the water and high in the air. You can’t see them without binoculars. But I counted six species.”
“Huh,” was all Donal could think to reply. Other than ducks and geese during the waterfowl hunting season, Donal wasn’t much interested in birds.
He was filling up Jack’s empty beer mug when three unkempt, long-bearded men, all dressed in dirty coveralls with muddy boots, clomped through the bar’s side entrance, and abruptly plopped down at a table near the jukebox.
“Be right with you,” called Donal, who headed into the kitchen to inform Emma the lunch crowd was starting.
Jack focused his attention back to the river, and quietly placed his binoculars on his lap below the bar. He soon was tuning out whatever was happening in the bar as more customers arrived, the jukebox was fired up, and the noise level increased. As a towboat pushed eight barges up the river’s main channel beyond Shell Island, Jack marveled as a bald eagle left its perch in a tall cottonwood tree, circled behind the towboat, and plucked a large fish from the boat’s roiling wake. In his mind’s eye, he was out there with the eagle. When a second eagle flew over the still turbulent wake, Jack pulled out his binoculars again for a better look; and he was so intensely focused, he was unaware that his friend Duff had entered the bar and was standing right beside his barstool.
“What’re you seeing out there—I know you get nervous when someone asks you that.” The reaction that most folks displayed was what made Jack uncomfortable: one of confusion and a clear assessment of Jack as being a bit strange for watching birds. So he was fine with keeping his business to himself.
“Hey Duff!”
“I thought you might be here. Not a good day for canoeing the river.” Duff waved at Donal who was talking to a couple of older middle-aged women at the other end of the bar. When he finished with the women, Donal brought Duff his usual Budweiser in a can.
“Thanks Donnie,” said Duff.
“Run you a tab today?”
“Yeah sure, I’ll probably be here for a while.” And with that, Donal went off to take care of the bar’s other customers.
“Whoa!” said Jack, quite a bit louder than he intended. “There goes a pileated woodpecker. It’ll be going over to the timber at Goose Lake Bottoms or Big Island. See it, Duff, flying up the river from Shell Island?”
“Yeah, I see it. That’s one big-ass woodpecker. Hey Jack, what’s the plan for today? You just going to sit around here looking out on the river all day?”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. There’s a belted kingfisher. See it?”
After a while, Donal eventually returned from attending to customers sitting at tables and bringing out several lunches from the kitchen, including Jack’s catfish. “Doin’ okay here?” he asked both Jack and Duff.
“How about a pitcher, Jack?” said Duff. “That way, Donnie here won’t have to keep running back and forth for us every few minutes.”
“Yeah, good idea,” said Jack. “You know, I think it would be interesting to keep a bird list for the bar.”
“Whatever turns you on Jack. You watch the birds and I’ll keep tabs on that there pitcher of beer coming our way.”
“Good deal,” said Jack, and both men laughed. “Okay, there’s a great blue heron flying. And soaring way up, about a hundred American white pelicans, with two turkey vultures joining the group. Here, use the binoculars.”
“No thanks,” said Duff. “You can be the bird watcher, not me.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out on seeing an amazing sight. There, see that bird flying kind of like a crow?”
“It’s not a crow?” replied Duff.
“No, it’s a green heron.”
“You sure? It’s pretty far away. How do you know for sure?”
Jack was about to answer when he noticed the two women, who were earlier at the other end of the bar, coming closer.
“Hey Duff,” said the shorter and heavier of the two women. “You a birdwatcher now?”
“Hey Angie,” replied Duff, avoiding direct eye contact. “No, that’s Jack here. I’m just along for the ride. I do my bird watchin’ on ducks and geese…with a rifle. Hey Sallie.” Both women smiled.
“I’m making a bird list for the bar,” said Jack, in as suave a manner as he could muster with such a statement. Duff slyly glanced around the room to see if anyone else could hear their conversation.
“That’s real interesting Jack,” said Angie. “Good luck. I mean it. Let us know what you see. And nice to meet you. We’ll see you around then.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you,” said Sallie, and the two women turned and walked toward the exit. Just before leaving, Angie turned to Sallie and whispered in her ear, “That Jack can eat crackers in my bed any day.” Both women let out some devilish laughter and glanced back at Jack, who had already returned to his binoculars and the river.
Duff said, “I think they like you Jack. Play your cards right, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah well, they’re a little old for me.”
“They’re both married anyway. Could get you in a mess of trouble. Angie’s husband used to be a boxer. I seen him in bar fights, and, well, the other guy never even had a chance.”
“Great advice you’re giving me,” said Jack, with both men laughing. “Hey, how’s Helen these days?”
“Ah, Helen. I think she’s getting ready to break up with me,” answered Duff.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, she keeps harping on me that she thinks I’m insensitive. I think she’s just making up stuff for an excuse to break up.”
“How so? Great egret flying upriver.”
“It all started when we stopped for gas a few days ago. I pay for the gas and a soda for her. The cashier says, ’Have a nice day’ as we’re walking out the door. I say, ‘Yeah’ and I keep on walking. Helen says I was rude, that I should have said, ‘You too, have a nice day’ or something like that. I told her the cashier didn’t really mean ‘Have a nice day.’ It’s just something they say. So I’m insensitive is her conclusion.”
“Well,” replied Jack, “there is something called ‘common curtesy.’”
“Oh, now it’s you too? Okay, here’s another of her gripes: She’s coming over last Friday night to watch a movie and get a pizza. I didn’t have time to clean up the house—she’s always buggin’ me to clean, clean, clean…who has time for that?—anyway, so I put this red lightbulb in the bathroom, you know, so you have light, but can’t see the dirt. Hey, there’s a bird I know. Canada goose! Pow! Pow!”
“Yep, good sighting, Duff.”
“Anyway, she figures out the, you know, logic…uh…gets mad, and calls me a slob. Says if I really cared for her, I’d have cleaned the toilet. I says, ‘Hey, I went out and bought a red lightbulb, didn’t I?”
“You know,” said Jack after he stopped laughing, “I once had a woman break up with me for something I did in her dream. In her dream! When she told me about it, I refused to apologize, and it was a downward spiral from then on.”
“So anyways Jack, in answer to your original question, Helen is right now not speakin’ to me. And I guess I’m fine with that. Better to find out now that things ain’t gonna work rather than wastin’ years arguing.”
“Yeah, who wants to argue the rest of your life? And there goes a Caspian tern! Wow! First one this summer.”
“You mean that there sea gull?”
“It’s not a sea gull. It’s a tern. And by the way, there’s no such thing as a sea gull. It’s just ‘gull.’ Or maybe ring-billed gull, herring gull, or some other type. But never sea gull. You’ll embarrass yourself if you’re with other birders.”
“Well excuse me. One good turn deserves another, eh?”
Jack simply shook his head at his friend’s attempt at birding humor. “Eastern phoebe on the right, over on the lower branch of that old bur oak. And there goes a group of little blue herons in calico plumage.”
“Calo…what did you say?”
But before he could think of a witty comeback, the three men in coveralls who had come in earlier walked over to the bar and stood next to Jack and Duff, motioning to Donal to come and take their money.
“You work for Conservation, right?” said the shortest and stockiest of the three, who otherwise was a carbon copy of the other two in nearly every other way, including a filthy camo cap.
“No,” answered Jack, “not Conservation. I’m at the state biology lab that…well…yeah, it’s conservation, I guess.”
“What’re you doin’ with them binocs? Spyin’ on people?” said the medium-sized guy with an out-of-control beer gut.
“Yeah, you spyin’?” said short and stocky.
“Just watching birds,” replied Jack.
“Bird watchin’!” said beer-gut guy. “What for? Ya can’t shoot ‘em now. It ain’t huntin’ season yet.”
“Yeah, it ain’t huntin’ season,” said short and stocky.
Jack didn’t respond, but just looked down. He was beginning to simmer inside, which was not a good thing. Jack wasn’t a fighter, but he was mulling over which of several biting, sarcastic replies he planned to unleash.
But before he could say a word, the biggest and tallest of the three said, “Let it go boys. C’mon, back to work.” All three were looking directly at Jack, but slowly turned and stomped toward the exit. Jack turned to watch them leave, and was about to shout out something when Duff put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, who took the hint and said nothing.
After the lunch hour, business eventually dropped off, and things quieted down again. Jack and Duff leisurely went through more pitchers, while Jack kept trying to increase the bar’s bird list. Occasional customers came and went, with several sincerely asking about his barstool bird watching.
As late afternoon approached, Jack said, “That’s enough for me. I probably shouldn’t drive as it is.”
“Yeah, I got things to do,” replied Duff. “Let’s finish up this pitcher. Then it’s back to reality.”
As Duff downed the last of his beer, a truck began backing a Jon boat and trailer down the ramp. Jack was uninterested in this, but Duff watched the driver closely. “Hey Donnie,” said Duff. “Ain’t that Matt Morrison?”
Donal looked up from washing glasses, turned toward the window, and said, “Yeah, that’s him. He’s ain’t allowed in here; always startin’ trouble with someone more often than not. Pretty sure he works with those three that were in here earlier. You boys handled them fine, by the way. I was watchin’.” Donal tried to assess the reactions of both men at this news, but detected nothing.
Jack appeared not to be listening, taking his time with his last beer while organizing the bird list. But he looked out the window and watched with interest as the Jon boat quickly moved up the river. As they stood to leave, Jack said, “Thirty-three species.”
“A good day’s work,” said Duff.
“Be careful now,” said Donal. “You come out here and watch birds any time Jack. I think it’s good for business. You’re a lot preferable to the type of scum I’ve had to throw out of here sometimes.” Emma came out of the kitchen for the first time that afternoon and waved as Jack and Duff left.
“I seen Matt Morrison go off on the river,” said Emma. “You know, I wouldn’t doubt that Matt and his buddies have it in for Jack, him being out with Matt’s ex-girlfriend Lizzy in a canoe the other day. Everything going alright here?”
“So far, so good. You know, that Jack is a good guy. Duff too.”
“So I hear.” Emma picked up Jack’s bird list from the bar and said, “What’s this?” as she quickly glanced over the list. “He seen all them birds out there today?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”