Adapting At the Crossroads
February 5th, 2011 @ 20:24Posted by: Charlie Whipple
For years the drive from our home in the country to the city was on a lonely, shoulderless, two lane road bounded on both sides by ranches that had been in the same families since Civil War days. The road descended a steep hill covered with live oaks and cedar. As it neared the bottom, the cedar gave way to elms and oaks which grew to enormous size. At the bottom was a dry creek. It had once been a clear running stream but now only flooded during heavy rains making it impossible to get to or from town. On cold winter nights one could hear coyotes harrying rabbits through the creek bottom. And on moonless nights the road was as dark as a cave. In the Spring both sides of the road were cloaked with yellow Engleman daisies. As one neared town there was a field filled with sunflowers that bloomed all summer.
At the end of this field the road was bisected by an equally narrow crossroad. Here, I often saw a scissor-tailed flycatcher* perched on a barbed wire fence. It seemed to watch with interest as I drove by. Occasionally, it would fly a short distance into the air to catch an insect. Each summer for years I would watch for it. And each summer it returned to its perch on the fence.
After several years, things began to change as the city grew. Stop signs were put up on the corners of the intersection because of increasing traffic. A supermarket and gas station were built on one corner. A gas station and convenience store were built on
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