After our spring break bonfire attempt was foiled by the local police this past week, I was left still wondering if I remembered anything that I had learned as a young boy scout. Brush and twigs for kindling…teepee shape…oxygen…could I live up to my masculinity and build a fire? The thought drifted to the back of my mind by the start of the new school week, as I had to focus on two tests, a biology lab makeup and another draft of my psychology paper due.
I needed a break from reading about developmental psychology in the aging process and decided to take Leo back out to the river winding beyond the Ostrich’s backyard. I had an hour to kill before picking her up from a marketing orientation and my mind was tired of memorizing the differences between apraxia and aphoria. So, we climbed up the hill and onto the trail leading into the pine trees that fenced in the wilderness.
A few hundred yards in we made it to the river bend and headed east along the water’s edge. The banks were too high at this part of the river to really enjoy the river flow, even though that didn’t stop Leo from trying to reach the water. We trekked a while mindlessly. I don’t believe I said anything to Leo for some time; we were both lost in the serenity of the bird calls and rapid breaks. He was glad for the exercise coming from his visit at Ya-Ya’s house where he got two walks a day.
Not too long after we bore east, we came upon a small beach. Across the way, we both heard a splash and to our surprise witnessed three large turtles diving from their sunbathing perches to hide from the possible predators: us. Leo stood looking at the rippling water confused and I was all but waiting for him to jump in to search for the disappearing neighbors. As Leo stared, my mind wandered back to my mental challenge of masculinity. I scanned the beach and questioned why not test my abilities here? Well, why not? The beach was clear of dry debris and the sand was wet from the swelling of the river. There was plenty of dry branches a few yards in from the river bank and lots of dried bamboo leaves for kindling. I looked back to Leo, lost in his own entertainment of biting the eddying water and digging for what I could only imagine to be canine treasure, and decided to prove myself to…er, myself.
I gathered the kindling, ripping dead bamboo leaves from the severed stalks and foraging little dry twigs from the fallen branches that littered the bank. I then grabbed a handful of medium sized sticks and jumped back to the beach to start constructing my little Indian memorial. The dried leaves smoked and the bamboo skin burned quickly, but my main structure was not catching. I did not have enough twigs to sustain the fire. I was worrying too much about starting the fire with the bamboo leaflets and forgetting that a fire is only as effective as a matchstick if I only thought of the kindling. So I ran back up the bank to gather more twigs, praying as I left the tender flame that it would hold on just until I got back with more firewood.
The fire embered as the kindling turned to ash but I was able to catch a few twigs alight before the embers went black. With the fire barely breathing, I ran for more kindling and restructured the twigs and sticks above the dying flame. It caught. The surrounding twigs began to light up and the fire grew in intensity. Success! The smoke brought me back to old hiking and camping trips with my brother and father. It was that distinct smell that reminds you of cocktail weenies and hot chocolate (well maybe not you).
As I took in the sight of my validated masculinity I was reminded that my time was running short. I came out of my reminiscent daze to find Leo completely caked in mud. He hadn’t found that treasure but he sure dug up the entire beach looking for it, whatever ‘it’ was. I knew that I had one of two choices: I would either have to bathe the dirt out of Leo once I returned from the Ostrich’s orientation meeting, or I could take the easy route…well, there was a river right there, what would you have done?
I chose option B, cornered Leo, and chucked him into the river’s current. He didn’t expect that and ran up the bank and into the woods to shake his surprise off. I felt a little bad for him but was reassured when I saw that his fur was now mud-less. I rechecked my watch and decided that it was time to put my fire out. As a testament to my reaffirmed masculinity I put the fire out the manliest way possible, a golden shower. I covered the smoking ashes with sand and after deciding that it was safe to leave, Leo and I headed home. It was a successful trip that reassured my husbandly abilities. I’m on a horse!
Note from the author: This post was written 6 months ago.
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