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2004-07-26 - 8:47 p.m. Quoth The Raven  There's something great about crows, especially the variety with the long shadows as pictured above. Ravens are even more impressive, but their call is more annoying. This reminds me of an adventure with my good friend and bass player, Rilk. Rilk and I have been friends since I phoned him up one day in the intervening summer between grade 5 and grade 6, which was, in my geo-educational region, the scary dividing line between elementary school and middle school. I had never done that before: just looked up an acquaintance and called them. We ended up as best friends. Across the years, I probably spent more time with Rilk than with any other school friend. Anyway, he lived near French Creek, in the area where it flows through backwoods and past farm fields. One summer's day, we decided to take an inflatable raft and see how far we could go. The water was icy cold and clear as glass. The creek was bulging with water and the current was flowing fast. We made our way down the watercourse, marvelling at sandstone cliffs and copses of strange vegetation. We stopped and swam in the deeper parts. Eventually, we were floating alongside an unplowed field. “Oh crap,” Rilk said, “I think that's Fritzie's field.” “Oh,” I replied, “who's Fritzie?” “He's a farmer. He's craaaazy. One time he chased my half-brother with a shotgun for trespassing.” Indeed, a multitude of 'trespassing prohibited' signs had begun to spring up along the field's fence. We had no idea why he was so crazy, but the threat seemed very real. Coming around a bend in the creek, we could see something hanging from a branch above the water. As we approached, it revealed itself as a Canada Goose, shot dead, left hanging by its feet. A little further ahead, a dead raven was hanging by its feet. We weren't the most superstitious of kids, but we knew that shooting the Canada Goose was illegal, and weren't ravens supposed to be sacred to the natives? This spoke volumes to us of the craziness of the man whose field we were skirting. I never did meet Fritzie, but he was a legend that lurked the neighbourhood for some time. Eventually, Rilk and I made it all the way to the ocean. Now Rilk lives in Japan and stars in television commercials among other remarkable things. |
