Scott C. Smith

Sometimes you just have to tell the story

Random writings

Then there was the time I got hit by a car

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It sure seems to take more than a little longer dropping down into planks and bouncing back up for high knees when doing the 7 Minute Workout. Well, I wouldn’t quite call it “dropping” down now. And maybe “a little” longer isn’t especially accurate lately. Um, okay, so not exactly “bouncing,” either. And for that matter, not quite “high” knees.

I hope to get the ole drop and bounce back, though. Reminds me of the time a couple of years ago when I was hit by a car while riding my bike.

It was one of those slo-mo things. A kid came wheeling around the corner as I was crossing the street and he elected to not pay much attention to what was in front of him – he was looking at the blond who had waved him out into the traffic unaware, apparently, that I was the traffic. Anyway, in that nano-second I decided to alert the kid to my position in front of his oncoming hood and let out a “HEY!” As I hollered, a thought entered my brain. Not that I was going to be hit; no getting around that. No, the thought was that if the kid hit me and knocked me over and kept going, I’d be run over by big, knobby Wrangler tires. I decided, hmm, no, that was probably not a good option. But, what to do?

The answer flooded my gray matter in the next slo-mo nano. In fact, I recall spending an extra half nano enjoying my answer, as it made such marvelous sense. I wondered, what would Rex do? Rex, for those who don’t know, is the leader of The LGBT Superheroes, a foursome of queer vigilantes I created as a three-book action series. (You can look me up on amazon.com if you want to learn more about those fearless characters in their pursuit to purge crime and corruption from their otherwise fair city.) Rex is in his late 40s and is in superb shape. He can drop, bop and roll better and faster than most. I knew I had to do what Rex would do.

The kid looked up at me in the instant before collision and stomped his brake – which would have been awesome if he was 20 feet away. He was, however, more like 20 inches. I eyed the Wrangler’s approach, timed the impact, and at the last second flipped my bod over the bike’s frame and onto the car’s hood in a move that would make any superhero proud. That, my Rex thinking calculated, might prevent me from being knocked in the opposite direction and prevent those knobby tires from leaving tread marks on me.

The Jeep jolted to a stop, and I rolled back over the hood and dropped down onto my now mangled bike and the street beneath. The initial vision of the car continuing forward shot back into my brain, and the instant gravity forced my contact with the bike and street, I did indeed bounce right back up and out of the way! I felt, if briefly, like the 17-year-old jock I once was.

It was a dumb accident, but the kind with a happy ending. The kid had my bike repaired, and my scraped knees and elbows healed just fine. More importantly, I nailed the drop and bounce. Now to get it back.

To resolve or not resolve, that is the question

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The Thought Instigator

Apparently, it’s still hip to advocate not making New Year’s resolutions. From so many posts out there, that seems to be a continuing mindset. The reasoning is, so often we make them, then we break them, so let’s do ourselves a favor and not even go there. And there’s something to be said for that. The story here goes into that more in depth. 

A couple of people I read have different approaches. 

First, let’s accept that New Year’s resolutions are a thing. In fact, there is long history here, going back to ancient Babylonians who held festivities at the new year (then mid-March, or planting season), and folks made promises regarding finances, which they intended to keep. When Julius Caesar changed the calendar to begin the year on January 1, the god Janus is said to have had the ability to look back and ahead, and Romans made positive promises about the new year.

By the 17th century, we’re told, making and breaking resolutions was commonplace. Nowadays there’s a good deal of advice (witness the recent flood of articles) in how to make resolutions – make resolutions that can be kept (not too difficult); make them narrowly focused and thus more attainable (I’ll lose 10 pounds; not I’ll lose weight); be positive in framing them (I will do this, not I won’t do that).

Nowadays we see different takes on how to take advantage of the new year to improve ourselves. I’m leaning in these directions.

One guy I follow is Justin Welsh, a successful solopreneur who has mastered LinkedIn for developing his following and subsequent business success. He claims that about 90% of people won’t follow through on their resolutions. He suggests, as an alternative, to set anti-goals. Simply, instead of trying to do some new positive thing, eliminate negative things you’ve been doing, and as a result become more positive and effective in the process. 

This follows a possibly growing trend of doing the opposite of what is traditionally thought to be the way to do things. Entrepreneur Tim Ferris advocates for that, such as keeping a schedule opposite of what everyone else does in order to stand out and gain more attention. As for resolutions, he says he stopped making them in exchange for a past-year review. Go through your calendar week by week and make lists of the positives and negatives. Whittle the lists down to the top 20% and the worst 20%, and then pile up on the former and dump the latter for the coming year. 

Sounds like similar trains of thought, both worthy of consideration. I’m going to do something even more different. And that is to resolve to accomplish a two-minute exercise every morning, based on the idea of another person I follow, Neil Pasricha. Neil is a hearty advocate for the popular tenet of living intentionally, a concept I thoroughly embrace. My take on that, the nutshell version, is to live deliberately, in balance with my core positive values, and to focus on simplifying my life and further appreciating that which I have: my family, my friends, my home, my stuff. Surround myself with people who share similar values and avoid those who choose negativity over positivity. 

I came across Neil by listening to yet another guy I follow, who runs a business and life philosophy website and newsletter and podcast from Canada. His name is Shane Parrish, and his website is called Farnum Street. Shane conducts his annual personal report by addressing “7 simple questions to help you reflect on the past year and make the next year unstoppable.” 

He is a huge fan of Berkshire Hathaway executives (and fellow reading fanatics) Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger, and he uses part of their company’s address for his website name as an homage to them. He publishes his newsletter Brain Food, which I’ve been reading every Sunday morning for years, and he also does a weekly interview podcast called The Knowledge Project. Smart dude; his podcast is my favorite. 

His basic angle is that successful people have figured out a lot of stuff, so why not let’s pick their brains and get to the heart of the matter, learning some of what they’ve learned, especially mental models (which, of course, is the basic model of our education system, just with his thumbprint). Among his fascinating guests, Neil Pasricha appeared last fall for his second visit, and I listened to them talk as I drove around doing errands and finished the segment during a cranking session on my exercise bike (I’ll ride inside some if it’s too crappy to ride outside). He is thoroughly contagious. 

I love reading and listening to smart people. I hope a smidgeon of their intellect and insight rubs off on me. Neil has published several bestselling books, he’s hugely popular on Ted Talk, and he gives speeches almost weekly for corporations and organizations all over. He’s a likable guy who achieved significant insight after living in misery while seeking success and realized he had it all wrong. He capitalized on figuring it out and shares his take on living intentionally through blogs, newsletters, books and speeches. 

So, I decided to adopt a practice that Neil recommends, taking two minutes of my day while the coffee perks to perform an exercise that has helped him immeasurably. You can read on his website all about how he came to it, so I’m just going to drop in here the idea. We’re awake for about 1,000 minutes a day, he says. So let’s invest two of those minutes to setting up the day for success by listing 1) “I will let go of…”, 2) “I am grateful for…” and 3) “I will focus on….” Or as he says: “If we can invest just two of them to prime our brains for positivity, then we’ll be helping ensure the other 998 minutes of our days are happier.”

My intention to eat well and exercise more are long-standing resolutions already and likely will be well into the future. Now I’ll see if I can condition myself to doing this new daily exercise, as well. I need to be physically and mentally in balance as I pursue my new career as a freelance writer helping businesses and organizations enhance their brands. I’m quite excited about taking this challenge on. There’s so much yet to discover. Taking this mindful first step each day of 2023 will help me guide that.

How about you? Are you making resolutions this new year? What?

I’ve shrunk – uh oh, am I in trouble?

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The Thought Instigator

That question depends. On first blush I think I’m screwed if I do and screwed if I don’t. Well, not do and don’t; that was a sort of play on words. But, screwed if I’m taller and screwed if I’m shorter sounds so no-win. Nevertheless, that’s the message I get from a WebMD article I just read for the fifth time. 

Do you subscribe to a lot of news feeds too? My darling wife Leigh does, more than I, even. Maybe I think that because of all the notifications she gets on her phone. She loves information and hates to miss a thing. And she puts her phone to work, alright. She talks to a lineup of family and friends, she reads news, she runs one of her businesses, and she created a startup business – all on her phone. All those notifications? Don’t know how she has the time. 

As I was saying I get bunches of newsletters (sans notifications), which is why my email account currently has 7,967 unopened emails – no lie. Not like I’m bragging. It’s all stuff I can live without, and there’s a strong hint here that I could also live with unsubscribing much of the lineup. But, you know – we do things because we can. And as my mother – bless her dear heart – would say, I might miss something!

So, I scrolled through one of the WebMD newsletters I got recently and zeroed in on this article titled “How Your Height Affects Your Health.” 

Gotta admit up front, I was drawn to it because A) I was 6’1” my whole adult life until B) at my physical this fall I measured 5’11-½”. Yup, full confession. And I was wearing socks. I’d gone through a couple other checkup jolts that accused me of shrinking a smidge, but I’d forgotten, no doubt going straight into denial. Anyway…

Scott C. Smith, Leigh Smith, The Thought Instigator
The long and the short of it

Here’s what they said

So the WebMD piece here (https://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/ss/slideshow-height-affects-health) clicked my psychological button, and read it, I did. Over and over. Here are their health claims and you’ll see why I’m bruised. 

  1. First of all, it states that the average American male stands 5’9” and the average woman 5’4”. Which tells me I’m taller than the average bear and Leigh is a shorty at 5’3-½”. She claims to have been 5-4 once. I’ve only known her for six years so I can’t say, but I’ll give it to her. And according to verywelllfit.com, the average height for women is actually 5’3-½”. So, you got this one, Babe – although you’ll never be average to me! (Point!)
  2. They say shorter people have less likelihood of getting certain cancers. Shorter women are less likely to get ovarian cancer, and shorter men less likely to get prostate cancer. Good news for Leigh, one against me.
  3. Tall people, they say, are less likely to get type II diabetes. I’ll take it. So will she – she’ll always be 5-4 to me. 
  4. “Scientists aren’t sure exactly why, but people who are shorter than 5 feet 3 inches are about 50% more likely to get coronary heart disease than those who are 5 feet 8 inches or taller.” Not sure where that leaves Leigh, but I should be good. Sorry, honey; I’m just the messenger.
  5. Taller people are less likely to have a stroke. Especially if they’re at a healthy weight. So – about that BMI scale. I have a big frame for a 5-11-½ guy. BMI scales are adjusted for larger-framed people based on wrist circumference. Wrist circumference? How about, you know – frame differential? I think we need more research into that one, so for now I’ll claim healthy weight-ish. I hike and I bike and stuff and eat pretty well. I got this!
  6. Okay, so shorter people are less likely to have blood clots. WebMD says people 5 feet or shorter are less likely to get one. Five feet? Well, whoever’s under 5 feet, congratulations!
  7. I am 60% less likely to get Alzheimer’s than men 5-7 or less. I’m definitely grabbing that one. But what about all the guys between 5-7 and 5-11, where the cutoff is? Is it graduated? Linear? A bell curve? Is the 5-9 guy 30% less likely? The link to height for women isn’t strong here. 
  8. Tall women are more likely to have longer pregnancies than short women. Looks like we’re both off the hook here! 
  9. Shorter guys have greater odds of going bald. And I am not bald. But my 6’5” son is pretty sparse on top. I always knew you defied the norm, Mark! Keep them on their toes!
  10. Shorter people tend to live “a little longer” than taller folks. And get fewer long-term diseases. So Leigh, you’re going to outlive me! On the other hand, neither of us have any disease, so I think we’re good. Besides, what does “a little longer” actually mean? A week? Two weeks? Six years?
  11. Shorter people are less likely to overheat or get heatstroke. Which also means we tallerish guys stay warmer in the winter. I’ve never overheated that I know of, so I guess I’m okay. 
  12. Shorter folks are less likely to have lower back pain or break a hip. First, for those who do experience LBP (that’s a thing), may I recommend Leigh’s Comfort Pad? That’s the product she makes in the above-referenced new business she created on her phone. Check out https://featherstonesinc.com/comfort-pad and learn about this marvel of a creation. It’s so good for relieving discomfort that a major Boston hospital uses it with all of their MRI machines for patient comfort, and other hospitals are checking it out. Anyway, a point WebMD makes is that taller people break hips more because they fall farther. Um, no duh. Is that fair? Really, is it?

The long and the short of it

I don’t think I fared all that well. You see why I read the article five times. I was like, really? But these are averages, right? I have no conditions or diseases, I don’t take meds, I’m married to the greatest girl in the world who makes amazing apple pie, our kids are happy and healthy. What’s left?

Of course, doesn’t it make sense that if I’ve shrunk 2% I should weigh 2% less than before? I mean, fair is fair, right? And can someone fix that BMI thing already? 

How about you? How do you fare in this momentous revelation?

Peter MacAlister is back – in a box set!

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I’ve been quiet on the novel writing front lately while working on other projects. So, no new titles hot off the press. But…..tada! We do have a new box set of the three Peter MacAlister Mystery series novels! 

It’s available as an ebook only, too cost prohibitive to do a physical book. However, the ebook is a steal of a deal – 3 books, 3 bucks, no kidding! Actually, the price is $2.99. And book 3 is also $2.99, so good deal, right? Shoot over here to get it! 

Who can tell me where I got the “3 books, 3 bucks, no kidding!” line from? I just Googled the line to see if the origin story would come up, and lo! First in the search was my author Facebook page! I used the same line when I introduced my LGBT SUPERHEROES! trilogy as a box set. Sold a few, as I recall. Now it’s Peter’s turn.

Oh, and to keep it in good company, I also priced the SUPERHEROES box set at $2.99. And, yes, book 3 is $2.99 too. A steal of a deal!

Which is it? Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?

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The Thought Instigator

I’m happy with “Happy Holidays.” 

I’m also happy with “Merry Christmas.” With “Happy Hannukah.” And how about, “Have a cool yule?”

Sound conflicting, in this day of judgmental disdain for political correctness? Well, a couple things…

I’m okay with expressions of joy, of guiltless communication of our boundless spirit and appreciation of our celebrations.

I’m not okay, however, with others’ rules that dictate why we should or shouldn’t express ourselves as we see fit as opposed to how they see fit.

How many times have we heard: “Hey, it’s merry Christmas! It’s not happy holidays! That’s politically correct, and I won’t be politically correct!” In other words, the real holiday is Christmas. The others are irrelevant. So don’t make them something more than irrelevant by lumping them in with Christmas. At least, that seems to be the logic. 

Um, memo. There’s a bunch of holidays that occur during “the holidays.” Holidays, plural. And, to those who celebrate them, they’re meaningful. They’re relevant. Even as much as Christmas! 

What they are, and aren’t

Okay, a quick primer. (And apologies for leaving anything/anyone out; I’m bound to miss something!)

A lot of people think “The Holidays” start with Thanksgiving and end with New Year’s Day. Others will tag on the Chinese New Year, but to my small mind, that’s so next year. Even New Year’s is next year, except that it’s attached to New Year’s Eve (my anniversary, by the way), so it qualifies in my book as a holidays bookend. 

I get the Thanksgiving aspect of “The Holidays,” although this period smacks of December to me. If we’re going to agree for the moment – and I didn’t hear anyone object – to Thanksgiving being a cast member of “The Holidays,” then I’ll listen to the argument that Diwali should be too. Diwali is that cool Hindu holiday celebrating life, and good over evil. It can take place in October or November, depending on the year’s lunisolar calendar placement. The Hindu calendar follows the moon and is 354 days long, so every three years they toss in a month or so. So you can see why it falls in October or November. It was in late October this year. 

I said I’d listen to the argument, but I’m not buying into it being among the holidays meant when we say “Happy Holidays!” October? No. For that matter, I think Thanksgiving stands on its own as a superb holiday – I don’t think “the holidays” when Thanksgiving pops up. Finishing the last bowl of turkey soup feels like a door opener to “The Holidays.” No, I’m ducking back behind my thought that “The Holidays” take place in December. And New Year’s. What ev! 

The lineup

1. Okay, so we have Hanukkah. According to the interesting website “Her Campus” (a medium designed for women in college, new to me), found here: https://www.hercampus.com/school/minnesota/6-holidays-holiday-season-besides-christmas, “Hanukkah is a Jewish holiday that’s celebrated for eight days and nights, beginning on the 25th day of the Jewish month of Kislev. The Jewish calendar is based on the lunar cycle, so Hanukkah can fall anywhere from November 28th to December 26th. … People celebrate Hanukkah by lighting their menorahs, spinning dreidels and eating delicious foods!”

I can testify that dreidel spinning is fun, from my one experience spinning them. 

Hanukkah certainly qualifies as a holiday season holiday. It runs from December 18 to December 26 this year. 

2. Then there’s Kwanzaa. “In the United States, roughly five million people celebrate Kwanzaa each year! Kwanzaa is a seven day holiday that celebrates African culture. It begins on December 26th and ends on January 1st. On the sixth day of Kwanzaa (my anniversary…hint, hint), there’s a Kwanzaa Karamu, which is a big feast. Gifts of Kuumba (creativity) are given to loved ones. Kwanzaa’s also celebrated through lighting the Kinara, performing and listening to traditional music and discussing African principles and history.” Her Campus

Five million people are not the definition of irrelevant.

3. I think we’re on a roll! Now, some would say winter solstice falls into the holiday season definition. “For Pagans, December means the holiday of Yule is coming! It falls on December 21st, which marks the winter solstice; which is the shortest day and longest night of the year. The winter solstice celebrates the rebirth of the sun, because days get longer from then on out.” More Her Campus

I know pagans who celebrate winter solstice, so that’s on the list.

4. Next on my list is Los Posados. “From December 16th through December 24th, Las Posadas is celebrated by some Hispanic families in the United States. It’s a nine-day celebration before Christmas, beginning with a procession with candles, songs and sometimes even people playing the parts of Mary and Joseph who lead the parade. Every night of Las Posadas is celebrated with gifts, piñatas, song, parties, tamales and prayer.” Yup, Her Campus

Okay, I’m buyin’ it. 

5. And, of course, Christmas. I do celebrate Christmas. 

6. And, finally, New Year’s (and my anniversary – I definitely celebrate that :).

And for the truly open-minded, if you want, toss in Festivus – Festivus for the Rest of Us – on December 23. Thank you crazy man Jerry Stiller for espousing it on “Seinfeld!” 

Political correctness?

You know, saying happy holidays probably is being politically correct. For that matter, I don’t see anything wrong with expressing sentiment that is inclusive of other cultures, beyond my limited scope of being Christmas-minded. Fact is, I am Christmas-minded. I don’t observe Hannukah, Kwanzaa, winter solstice, or Los Posados. But I’m aware that others do, and that these traditions fall during “The Holidays.” 

I’m grateful to realize that. For a long time I didn’t. And then people started saying happy holidays. Holidays, plural. Opened my eyes. And my mind. Which is a good thing. Therefore, my simple logic holds, there’s nothing wrong with saying happy holidays. Nor is there saying merry Christmas. But there is something weird telling others what’s okay to say and what isn’t – judge, judge. 

What do you think?

How about you? What’s your favorite holiday season greeting? What do you like, not like, etc.? Why, for polite conversation’s sake? It’s okay to have an opinion about it. No harm believing in something – unless, of course, you’re evil. I’m going to be welcoming of all cultures celebrating holidays during this season of the calendar. I’m going to say happy holidays when it feels appropriate, or merry Christmas, or happy Hannukah, or whatever works in the moment. And not worry about it.  

Don’t want to say happy holidays? Then don’t; I don’t care. Just don’t cast a crappy light on me for choosing to be polite and accepting of others. 

Happy holidays!

Rat-a-tat-tat: Me, Daisy and PITA Mr. Woodpecker

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The Thought Instigator

Other than jagged holes filling dying, bark-ravaged trees, I don’t think I was ever knowingly aware of woodpeckers until we bought our house in 2018.

I never knew they possessed the power to turn me to the dark side.

Until then, woodpeckers drilled that distant cadence from the woods, lofting echoey staccato percussion beats to complement the warblers nearby. But then I learned so much more.

Woodpecker setup

Everything checked off the inspection list pretty much okay, except for the jerky holes in a few shingles covering our chimney. I looked at our new neighbor’s chimney across the yard – same construction, but no holes. Hmm. Maybe the holes had been there a while, ignored, out of sight, out of mind. Whatever – the house was what we wanted, where we wanted, and we weren’t going to let a few fixable holes in the shingles thwart us.

What did we know?

We had the shingles replaced shortly after moving in, and the carpenter said no woodpecker would go at it with the synthetic ones he used. Sounded sensible. But who said woodpeckers were sensible?

The bad news

According to birdwatchingpro.com (https://birdwatchingpro.com/how-do-woodpeckers-peck-so-fast) a woodpecker can peck 20 times a second. Huh?

Wait a minute, what? Twenty times – a second? Yup! All sorts of writeups explain the bird’s anatomy, which allows it to peck up to 12,000 times a day and up to 1,400 times the force of gravity. That’s 1,400 g’s! Fewer than 100 g’s will concuss a human, our bird watching pro says. Macho astronauts face about 3 g’s during liftoff (and they’re wearing g-suits!), and most people will go unconscious at 9 g’s as blood struggles to get to the brain. Thanks to spaceanswers.com for these goodies.

I’m not going into the physiological marvel that the woodpecker is – partly because it’s pages of information long, but mainly because I don’t care. The short answer you really want to know is that because of its beak configuration, 99.7% of the force transfers into the bird’s body, not its head – see Audubon’s explanation – and its neck muscles rival Igor the weightlifter. Nature is a marvel, and I’m satisfied to call this one of those. All I care about is that the damn birds stop drilling holes in my chimney.

But, oh no. There was a force at play I didn’t realize. It seems the birds drilling my chimney aren’t merely hungry, they’re, well, horny. Um…

The first thing we learn when reading the various sources of info out there is that woodpeckers rip off bark and penetrate trees to get at those yummy insects crawling around inside. Okay, I get that some species like to eat live bugs. I prefer mine dried and chocolate coated. I digress.

But we also learn that these destroyers of private property also whack away at wood to communicate – especially to lure a mate. If only I knew years ago to try slamming my face into a tree a hundred miles an hour. There I go digressing again.

It seems some wood resonates in just the right way for boy woodpeckers to send throaty coos to innocent girl woodpeckers. Apparently, it works – they keep on doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And, as apparently, certain shingle-covered chimneys send a perfect pitch into the mating ritual madness.

At least, ours does. Just not our neighbors’.

So, it wasn’t long before the rat-a-tat-tat resumed and more shingles were decimated. OMG, this was our house! Our home! Our home, which I’m sworn to protect and defend!

So, what to do?

wikiHow to the rescue – not

A visit to our buddies at wikiHow gives us a list of 10 ways to get rid of woodpeckers. Now, this is probably a good place to note that someone’s wife, who shall remain nameless, informed her husband how much she loves woodpeckers, how beautiful they are, etc., etc. Now, her husband could respond with wikiHow’s opening statement in their article titled “How to Get Rid of Woodpeckers” – which strikes even this writer as being ever so cold.

WikiHow says: “As cute as woodpeckers can be, you certainly don’t appreciate it when they drill away loudly against some nearby surface. At best, the sounds they make can be a rude awakening. At worst, a woodpecker can cause expensive damage to your home’s siding. Fortunately, there are things you can do to keep them away from your property.”

Finally, a voice of reason – and someone to blame for a lone husband taking action.

Thing you can do #1 says to make loud noises. Like blare a boom box, and yell a lot while flailing around. You know.

Thing 2 says to place a fake bird of prey on the property, such as mounting a plastic owl or hawk on the roof. Then, A, we’d have a permanent plastic bird of prey on the roof, and B, wikiHow says the woodpeckers might figure out the scam and return anyway.

Number 3 calls for hanging wind chimes near the pecking place. Well, not sure how to hang wind chimes at the top of the chimney, and, also, that would call for a very tall ladder, and, worse, the lone husband climbing way up the very tall ladder. Nuh uh.

Equally nonsensical suggestions round out the list. But there had to be a way to stop this savagery. Hadn’t there?

And then the light went on. And with it the image of a pump action long barrel and scope. Oh, yes, the dark side. It was calling me by my given name.

Daisy to the rescue

Yep, a trip to Walmart and soon home with a Daisy Powerline 880 with a 4×15 scope. Yessir, me and my Daisy, we were going do the trick, a team of roughriders if ever there was. Now, this was my first BB gun since I was 12 or 13, but I’d proven myself a pretty good marksman as a kid, so I was confident of my adult proficiency.

Now, the wait. But not for long, the little bugger. Rat-a-tat-tat!

I’d loaded a handful of BBs into the trusty Daisy, and had practiced opening the cartridge, pumping the handle up to 10 times, and then injecting a little steel ball into the chamber. The fun part, at the outset, was setting the scope, which magnified just fine. I fiddled with the windage and elevation adjustments but found the factory setting seemed right. It’s not like there’s much windage behind my house, and how much elevation shift might there be from my deck to the chimney?

I’d also found that 10 pumps was overkill for my mission; five was plenty adequate. Hell, two would probably get there.

I pumped the handle five times, filled the chamber, and slowly, quietly, opened the slider to the deck. I tiptoed across to where I could see past the roof edge, and there, there, hanging onto my chimney shingles and rat-a-tatting away, was the cutest little red-headed woodpecker ever. Cute he may be, I thought, but I was on mission.

I pulled Daisy up and squinted into the scope. No glasses necessary to get a bead eye on this varmint. I aimed the scope right at his center, took a slow breath, and then shifted the barrel up and to the right a nudge and squeezed. The sharp retort barely preceded the sound of BB smacking wood, and the love-bent birdie leaped up, turned in mid-air, and shot away into the woods.

Now – you didn’t really think I’d actually shoot the little critter, did you? OMG, I’d never shoot a bird! I had no intention of maiming him – or killing him, which I knew Daisy was capable of doing. I just wanted to scare him away. Make him think about it next time.

And even more!

And there were next times. And over them I could detect a growing pattern of awareness by the culprit. That hesitation, mid-peck, the head swinging back and forth in the brief silence. And then, finally, the day came. The day I knew I had him.

I repeated my steps onto the deck, my tiptoes to the far side. Daisy was loaded. I raised the rifle, took aim – and suddenly the little guy stopped mid-rat-a-tat. He slowly turned toward me. His spidey sense was right on. He saw me and Daisy. His eyes bulged open like Wile E. Coyote about to drop from the cliff. His head jerked back, his face a look of terror, and he shot off into the woods. 

I fired into the air behind him, to not let him off easy. But my mission was done. He didn’t return. Until the next year. Or perhaps, no, he never returned, but rather, I decided, it was his offspring, his reward from his mating rat-a-tats.

I like to think so.

Of course, we had to go through the exercise again that next year. And again the following year. And again this year. But Daisy’s at the ready, in a cranny by the slider. And we have lots of BB’s. Oh, lots of BB’s. Come on, little buddy. Bring it on! 

So – what do you think? Makings of a new novel? 

What has driven you to step face to face with the dark side? I’d love to know. Drop it into the comments!

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