Ray Eickholt signals 'Peanuts!' to a plump squirrel.
February 20, 2010
I dropped my son off at his way-too-early-for-a-Saturday Drivers Ed drive, and got to the Soldiers Home at about 8:30 for my scheduled interview with Vern Schiffer. I hadn’t seen Vern since last Saturday, so I was a little concerned he might have forgotten our appointment. I needn’t had worried. Vern is a man who is on top of things.
Before I turned on the camera, Vern told me he didn’t want to talk about everything that happened during his service in Vietnam, because some of it was traumatic. I told him that was fine but, frankly, I can’t imagine anything involving an 18-year-old kid armed with a grenade launcher in the open door of a helicopter that doesn’t qualify as traumatic.
Afterwards, on my way over to see Mike, I noticed Ray Eickholt ahead on the sidewalk. Ray is easy to spot: Not only does he wear a bright-orange cap, but he also scoots his wheelchair backwards (with the help of a self-mounted rear-view mirror)—easier on the legs, he says.
The first time I met Ray, he was feeding squirrels. One had even jumped into his lap for a peanut. (They sell peanuts in bulk at the general store in the nursing facility; the squirrels at the Soldiers Home have to be some of the plumpest, most sociable specimens ever.) I told Ray I had just seen a particularly pudgy one digging up a treasure and asked whether he had any peanuts on him today.
"Of course I do," he said, and pulled out a bagful. I clucked some alluring squirrel sounds, but Ray wasn’t impressed.
"He’s not coming over because you’re a stranger," he said.
Well.
I stepped back, and Ray held up a peanut. Signal received, the squirrel bounded over. He stopped at Ray’s feet as if in awe, and reached up just as I clicked my camera.
An action shot! Now Ray was impressed.
When I got to Mike, he had already been down to the pond, and his hands were frozen little handsicles. We warmed up for a minute inside, then headed back down. It was just too beautiful a morning not to.
Mike had seen a huge eagle down there earlier, but he had left by the time we got to the pond. No matter. The sun was out, and there was no other noise other than the bubbling fountain. I literally felt the tension in my shoulders ease.
We heard a faraway helicopter. "Sounds like a Jolly Green Giant," Mike said. I thought he meant the vegetable king, which would have been an interesting sighting, but he meant an actual (HH-3E) helicopter. Turned out it was an Apache, but still—the man knows his birds.
We sat there quite a while in the sun. We watched a doomed worm try to wriggle from the grass (birds!) to the water (fish!). We looked for otters, and eagles, and deer. When we finally left, I thanked Mike for the wonderful morning, and realized, on the way home, it really was a wonderful morning.
I dropped my son off at his way-too-early-for-a-Saturday Drivers Ed drive, and got to the Soldiers Home at about 8:30 for my scheduled interview with Vern Schiffer. I hadn’t seen Vern since last Saturday, so I was a little concerned he might have forgotten our appointment. I needn’t had worried. Vern is a man who is on top of things.
Before I turned on the camera, Vern told me he didn’t want to talk about everything that happened during his service in Vietnam, because some of it was traumatic. I told him that was fine but, frankly, I can’t imagine anything involving an 18-year-old kid armed with a grenade launcher in the open door of a helicopter that doesn’t qualify as traumatic.
Afterwards, on my way over to see Mike, I noticed Ray Eickholt ahead on the sidewalk. Ray is easy to spot: Not only does he wear a bright-orange cap, but he also scoots his wheelchair backwards (with the help of a self-mounted rear-view mirror)—easier on the legs, he says.
The first time I met Ray, he was feeding squirrels. One had even jumped into his lap for a peanut. (They sell peanuts in bulk at the general store in the nursing facility; the squirrels at the Soldiers Home have to be some of the plumpest, most sociable specimens ever.) I told Ray I had just seen a particularly pudgy one digging up a treasure and asked whether he had any peanuts on him today.
"Of course I do," he said, and pulled out a bagful. I clucked some alluring squirrel sounds, but Ray wasn’t impressed.
"He’s not coming over because you’re a stranger," he said.
Well.
I stepped back, and Ray held up a peanut. Signal received, the squirrel bounded over. He stopped at Ray’s feet as if in awe, and reached up just as I clicked my camera.
An action shot! Now Ray was impressed.
When I got to Mike, he had already been down to the pond, and his hands were frozen little handsicles. We warmed up for a minute inside, then headed back down. It was just too beautiful a morning not to.
Mike had seen a huge eagle down there earlier, but he had left by the time we got to the pond. No matter. The sun was out, and there was no other noise other than the bubbling fountain. I literally felt the tension in my shoulders ease.
We heard a faraway helicopter. "Sounds like a Jolly Green Giant," Mike said. I thought he meant the vegetable king, which would have been an interesting sighting, but he meant an actual (HH-3E) helicopter. Turned out it was an Apache, but still—the man knows his birds.
We sat there quite a while in the sun. We watched a doomed worm try to wriggle from the grass (birds!) to the water (fish!). We looked for otters, and eagles, and deer. When we finally left, I thanked Mike for the wonderful morning, and realized, on the way home, it really was a wonderful morning.
Squirrel success!
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