Heronk

1991

This is one hell of a way to celebrate your fiftieth birthday!

I'm a lean, mean goose attractin' machine. I don't mind the nine months of storage in somebody's garage, because I know what the other three months are going to bring, but this has me worried. Very worried.

I'm sitting up on a shelf in Butch's Pawn Shop. Downtown! In St. Louis, Missouri! Downtown! In a city!

This is not at all where I belong. There are other decoys up on this shelf with me, and from the looks of them, this might be a good place for them to stay. But, not me.

It seems like only yesterday.

1941

Yesterday I wasn't. I just… wasn't.

Today, I am!

Sometime today the feeling just started. I know I began as a single piece of wood. Then another piece was placed along side me, then another, and another. In between each piece, well, this sticky, gooey, yucky stuff was spread. Finally, after several pieces of wood were all sticking together, some kind of arm was put on each side and it clamped us even tighter together. I mean tight. There wasn’t room between any of us pieces of wood for a rat to fart.

And now “something” has picked me up. A voice is talking to me, saying, "You're going to be my best.“ Sawing and cutting on me, he proclaims, “You’re going to be my finest!”

As parts of me are being destroyed, obliterated, he soothingly talks, and explains, “You'll finish my spread and we'll have great times together."

Hm? I don't understand this at all. I wish I could see. That would surely help.
*******************
Things are a little clearer this morning and I have figured out what "it" is. "It" is a man. His name is Heinz Schmelzerblein. He came in here with another "it" last night whose name is Grant Heim. They were in here a long time, talking. This building is Heinz's shop. Grant and Heinz get together every fall and do something they call "hunting". They talked about me for a long time, saying that I was really coming along. Heinz said that I was going to be his best ever. They called me several different things; a block, a decoy, a deke. I wish they would stick with one thing. That's a lot of names for one piece of wood to figure out.

Heinz just came in and said, "Mornin' fellows." There must be more than just me here, as he sounded like he was talking to a group. I wonder what "fellows" do?

Heinz picked me up and started sticking me with something, gouging away a little more of my original self. Whoa, Heinz! That hurts! Take it a little easy. And now he's rubbing all over me with a hard steel bar that is rough as a cob. Scraping away even more of me.

Ahhh, that's better. He quit using that bar and is rubbing me all over with a piece of paper that feels pretty good. It still takes a little of me away, but not in chunks. Just a layer of dust coming off of me now. Hey, Heinz, careful on that end, it tickles.