The Ballad of Crow & Sparrow by V.L. Locey

Author:V.L. Locey [Locey, V.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-07T14:00:00+00:00

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“Tell me once more about the berries,” he demanded one morning, as I readied myself to make my morning rounds. He was bouncing with excitement. “Are they truly ready for picking?”

“They are fat and ripe. Would you like to ride with me today? You can berry while I check the traps and snares.”

“Yes!” He bounced around the cabin, searching for his moccasins, his cheeks pink with excitement. When his tiny feet were dressed, he ran outside, Gin on his heels barking playfully, and waved at me to hurry. I chuckled, grabbed my guns, and joined him.

“Wear this. It will protect your fair skin,” I said, then deposited my hat on his head. His eyes sparkled. Wind was not happy to have the added weight, and threw himself several times before I had to speak to him firmly about his teeth and my leg.

Spencer rode behind me, his arms tight around my waist, an old wooden bucket in his hands. Gin bounced ahead of us, tail wagging merrily and nose to the ground. The forest was warm, the air heavy and moist, the sun dancing through the thick canopy. Tiny bits floated in the beams that wiggled through the leaves. Bugs darted around us, some landing on our arms or the horse, others merely investigating us as we passed.

The first large patch of blackberries was near a small pond that I trapped and fished at. There was a clearing by the pond, as if someone had thought to homestead, but moved on or changed their minds. In that clearing, where the trees had been felled, the berry bushes had taken over. You could not see around or over the massive wall of blackberries. Spencer was sliding off Wind as the horse was still prancing about. Gin had fallen behind, her face in a deep hole she had dug under an old pine tree. Wind danced around, nipping at me and tossing his head.

“Stop, you old bastard,” I barked as I tried to dismount. He tossed his head, showed his teeth, and flattened his ears. I took his face in my hands and looked into his eyes. “He is part of us now, and will ride on your back. Compris ?”

Wind nudged at my face with his nose, an apology of sorts, I assumed. I let him wander around the pond, to drink and to graze, as I waded out into the murky, warm water to check the several leghold traps along the shore. Muskrats loved this pond, but also many other furbearers came to drink, such as raccoons, foxes, bobcats, and weasels. Trapping by water was always good, for every animal had to drink.

I dispatched a big boar raccoon that had been in a trap, and tossed it to the bank. Wind had wandered off into the shade to rest beside a tree, his eyes droopy. Gin had yet to leave the pine roots and the squirrel she had trapped among the gnarled knots. I heard Spencer singing in the thick tangle of berry bushes.

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