First Near Death Experience

My First Near Death Experience

I had to be about five years old and it had to be the first summer at the farm.  I had been snooping in the little attic above the garage on a regular basis and when I came upon a small baby bird flopping along on the ground near the house, I knew just what it needed.

Clambering up the wooden outside stairway, I pulled the stick out of the hasp and entered the little attic to retrieve a bird cage which was stored up there along with a hundred other things from the old house in Sparta.  It was a cheap little thing, probably all that remained with one of my mother's or one of her siblings' experiment with keeping a pet.

I dragged it down, scooped up the fledgling and inserted him through the little spring-loaded door and took him to show Grandma Lill.  She was busy working, of course, and gave me the cursory bit of attention that I was seeking.  She peered very attentively at the situation, at the bird, clucked something or other and smiled as I moved on, holding my cage.

The next thought that entered my mind was that I had to show Grandpa Lee.  I had already bonded with that bird.  He was my best friend.  I can remember being just ecstatic.

Grandpa Lee was up the road working on a fence in the cow pasture.  There was quite a ditch across the road from the house and he had determined that it would be advantageous to fence it off from the cattle, otherwise they would continue to wallow around in there and further degrade the area.

Birdcage in hand and barefooted, I began the trek up the dirt road to the corral.  The corral was not huge, but was built of split logs across thick posts, so that a few animals could be herded or coaxed into it, contained by some temporary makeshift wire fences, and eventually loaded into a truck.

I climbed up and over the split logs and down the other side, bringing with me the bird in its cage.

Just past the side rails, the hillside was moderately steep, with a clay hillside to the left and Grandpa Lee about twenty yards down to the right, working on seating a fence post.  He was surrounded by about 15 to 20 white-faced Hereford heifers and steers.  They were curious as to the goings on and were all around him.

I worked my way a bit closer, downward toward him.  I just couldn't wait for him to see my pet bird.

"Grandpa!"  I called out.  A few of the steers raised their heads, surprised.

Grandpa Lee looked up from his work and saw his little grandson stumbling down the hillside into a dangerous situation.  He stood up quickly and shouted at me to go back.

This proved to be the wrong thing to do.  The cattle spooked and a wave of panic went through them.  They bolted in my direction and the entire small herd stampeded right over me.

I was quickly knocked to the ground and lost my grip on the birdcage.  As I looked up, several of these behemoths ran right over me, just missing me with their hooves.  I remember one large heifer actually choosing to place her foot down to the side of me, altering its trajectory mid-step, her huge round eye wide open with panic.

Her kind decision spared me from becoming another victim of the all-too-common farm accident.  Once thirty or forty yards away, the cattle calmed down and stopped, turning to look back.

Grandpa Lee was at my side in a flash, picking me up and dusting me off, checking to see if I had been injured.  My crying told him I was probably all right.  Still fixated on my purpose for being there, I stepped over to pick up the cage and show him my bird.

The cage and the bird had been crushed.

After my tamtrum subsided, Grandpa Lee took me to the corral, lifted me and the cage over and told me to go back to the house.  I cried all the way back and showed Grandma Lill the crushed birdcage, sobbing "my bird!  my bird!"

I can still see the image of that panic-stricken heifer as she diverted her stride to narrowly miss stepping directly on my chest, as if it happened only just yesterday.  Grandpa Lee, no doubt, got some commentary from his wife although I didn't hear any of it.

The heifer and I were both destined to roam all over those beautiful pastures and hillsides, drinking the fresh water that came out of the pipe from that limestone spring up the valley.  The ill-fated spot was destined, many years later to become my mother's front yard.