The Nature of Man?
Posted: Friday, March 12, 2010
by Jack H. Schick
For a while I worked at a small wastewater plant in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. It was nestled in a pastoral little valley in farm country. A pristine stream flowed among big slabs of rocks that had fallen out of the steep wooded hillside across from the Plant. A few dozen yards downstream it widened to a gravel beached fishing hole under an old one lane, stone bridge. Behind the Plant a hay field sloped sharply up to a tree line on the horizon. It was an isolated patch of Eden. Except for an occasional car on the road there was no visible sign of humanity other than the Plant itself.
Joe liked the ducks that hung around the creek by the Plant. So did I. I'm a hunter, so I appreciate all animals. Hunters are conservationists and animal lovers at heart, regardless what you might think. Terry didn't like the ducks at all. He thought they were noisy and dirty and could mess up the water samples we were required to take. He threw rocks at them to chase them away. Joe brought in cracked corn to feed them.
One morning, an hour or so before we were going to sample, Terry had chased the ducks out of the creek. They were walking around down by the bridge and up on the road. Jim put out a pile of corn by the front gate for them. While he was watching them from a distance a car came down the steep hill and across the bridge. The driver saw some of the ducks meandering around in the road. He accelerated and had a grin on his face, Joe said. He intentionally ran them over. There were feathers, guts and corn scattered all over. I helped Joe bury the ruptured bodies in the ditch along the road. I can picture the grin on the man's face. I can only imagine what was going through his mind.
One nice, summer afternoon I went out to the creek to collect samples. There were three or four kids at the fishing hole by the bridge. I didn't pay much attention until I heard what I thought was a gun shot. I moved to a better position to see what was going on. I realized it was firecrackers I'd heard. The kids were catching small fish, shoving a firecracker down their throats then lighting them. They shrieked with glee when the fish exploded. I went to the boss and suggest we call the Fish Warden or the police. He responded, "They're just kids being kids." I wondered what made Terry, and the kids, think that behavior was normal, and what it said about people who did.
One beautiful afternoon the weather was clear and warm, the stream gurgled and swirled past the Plant. I went down to the bridge to watch the fish and ducks. I noticed two expensive bicycles lying off to the side in the weeds. When I investigated, I spotted two men lying on one of the rock slabs about a hundred yards up the stream. I stealthily worked my way closer through the woods to see what was going on. I quickly realized the men were gay. They had found a wonderful place to make love.
I quietly withdrew. I went back to the plant and told Joe. I was surprised when he sneaked out along the creek to watch. Terry asked me what was going on so I told him. He flew into a rage. He told me to call the police and ran out to chase them away. I didn't make the call. I felt a little sad that he thought consensual love making was a crime and blowing up fish was okay.
I drove by the Plant the other day, down the steep hill and across the bridge. I stopped for a moment at about the spot where we'd cleaned up the guts and the corn. I could see the gravel beach where the boys were fishing. With the leaves off, I could see up stream and see that rock. The shrubs are a lot bigger, but the Plant looks the same. There are different people working there now, but I wondered if they still are the same. I drove on, out of the pastoral little valley with a sad darkness shading my heart.
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Top-level comments on this article: (8 total)Jack,This was an excellent article. As a fellow hunter I can appreciate your point of view with regard to the treatment of the ducks and fish.It is sad that this type of paradox exists in our society.Thanks for reading and commenting
Hi Jack.There are people like Terry everywhere, unfortunately. I live next door to one who thinks the best thing to do with a barking dog is shoot it dead with a shotgun. Not mine, but our backdoor neighbor's. I think you were lucky in that you had one other co-worker who felt as you did.Thanks, again for reading and commenting on my stuff, Dianne.
Thanks for the opportunity to review your article. It was well written and, if expanded a bit, would make a terrific short story! Take care, LindaThanks for reading and commenting, Linda
You have a lot of interesting stories gathered up in your mind- I like to read them- they always tell a lot about human nature. Thanks-EllaThanks, Ella- yes, my mind is tortured
I haven’t any word to appreciate this article. nice article.Thanks fior reading
Such a sad story about the darker side of human nature so evocatively written. Lest we forget...Thanks for reading
What is this? An excerpt of a book? It is nicely written but I'm not sure what I'm reading.Thanks for reading
Observing a driver who is gleeful by exterminating some helpless ducks is extremely troubling. Most of us would stop or dodge for a squirrel or a duck in the roadway. I do not believe the driver you observed is a microcosm of the whole, but a very troubled person.There is some poetic license and allegory here.
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