show up today at this location. He thought maybe he could go out again early Thanksgiving morning and try again. Disappointed, he started through the field toward the barn. With his hunt over for the day, he was now looking forward to the warm house and the delicious dinner his mother would soon have ready.
As he walked along, Eugene saw a bird land on top of the barn. It had appeared in a flash and he couldn't see it clearly, but the sound of startled chickens in the coops convinced him it was a hawk. His instinct was to protect his mother's chickens, so he stopped and took action without thinking. He placed the barrel of the rifle on the fence post to steady it, took quick aim, and pulled the trigger. His aim was perfect. The bird toppled from its perch and slid down the roof of the barn to the ground. Excited by the thought that he had killed a hawk, he ran to the bird and stopped abruptly when he saw his mistake. It wasn't a hawk at all. It was a dove, bleeding and dead, on the ground before him.
Eugene was stunned. How could this have happened? He had never meant to shoot a dove! He should have taken a closer look before shooting, but he was so thrilled at the chance to use his new rifle that he had neglected to do so. What was done was done, though. He couldn't change it. He knew he would be in trouble with his parents, but it was better to take the dove to the house and tell them what he had done than to leave it here and let them discover it. He picked the dove up and saw drops of its blood where it had landed on the ground. Guilt-stricken, he carried the bird home and showed his parents.
Their reaction was not as bad as he expected. Of course, they were unhappy about what he had done, but they could see that Eugene was truly sorry. They helped him bury the dove and then said no more about it.
Eugene had trouble sleeping that night. The clouds had moved in, and the wind howled and whistled and kept him awake until almost dawn. When he woke the next morning, there were three inches of freshly fallen snow on the ground.
While his mom cooked breakfast, Eugene went to the barn with his father to feed and milk the cows. As they approached, they noticed something unusual in the snow. They walked closer to examine it. There in the deep snow was a circle about the size of a large lard can lid. The ground inside the circle was in plain view. Not one flake of that three-inch snow was inside that circle.
âDad,â Eugene said in a hushed voice, âthat is the spot where the dove fell after I shot it.â
It was a long time before Eugene took his rifle out again, and he always made sure he knew his target before he fired.
Eugene had good reason to think of the dove during the rest of his years on the farm. When the winter snows came, the circle where the dove fell remained completely clear. When the green grass of spring and summer grew, it surrounded the circle of brown earth, but nothing ever grew in that circle.
People wondered if the spirit of the dove lived on after the bird's untimely death on the eve of Thanksgiving all those years ago.
Shadow of a Boy
This story came from Roberta's side of the family. Barbara Jane Alley told this to her sister Lou Ann, Roberta's grandmother, and Lou Ann passed it on.
When Barbara Jane was in her teens, she once spent a winter with relatives in southern Kentucky near the Tennessee state line. Her Uncle Samuel had broken his leg in a fall from a horse and was left weak and sick. He and Aunt Lou had two small girls, but they were too young to be of much help to their mother. Lou and Samuel had lost an older boy in an accident the winter before, so they needed a pair of strong, young hands to help out. Barbara Jane was used to hard work at home, and she was happy to stay with them when they asked her. Her presence was very welcome that winter.
Barbara Jane helped with the milking, cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing. Aunt Lou often sent her through the woods close
As he walked along, Eugene saw a bird land on top of the barn. It had appeared in a flash and he couldn't see it clearly, but the sound of startled chickens in the coops convinced him it was a hawk. His instinct was to protect his mother's chickens, so he stopped and took action without thinking. He placed the barrel of the rifle on the fence post to steady it, took quick aim, and pulled the trigger. His aim was perfect. The bird toppled from its perch and slid down the roof of the barn to the ground. Excited by the thought that he had killed a hawk, he ran to the bird and stopped abruptly when he saw his mistake. It wasn't a hawk at all. It was a dove, bleeding and dead, on the ground before him.
Eugene was stunned. How could this have happened? He had never meant to shoot a dove! He should have taken a closer look before shooting, but he was so thrilled at the chance to use his new rifle that he had neglected to do so. What was done was done, though. He couldn't change it. He knew he would be in trouble with his parents, but it was better to take the dove to the house and tell them what he had done than to leave it here and let them discover it. He picked the dove up and saw drops of its blood where it had landed on the ground. Guilt-stricken, he carried the bird home and showed his parents.
Their reaction was not as bad as he expected. Of course, they were unhappy about what he had done, but they could see that Eugene was truly sorry. They helped him bury the dove and then said no more about it.
Eugene had trouble sleeping that night. The clouds had moved in, and the wind howled and whistled and kept him awake until almost dawn. When he woke the next morning, there were three inches of freshly fallen snow on the ground.
While his mom cooked breakfast, Eugene went to the barn with his father to feed and milk the cows. As they approached, they noticed something unusual in the snow. They walked closer to examine it. There in the deep snow was a circle about the size of a large lard can lid. The ground inside the circle was in plain view. Not one flake of that three-inch snow was inside that circle.
âDad,â Eugene said in a hushed voice, âthat is the spot where the dove fell after I shot it.â
It was a long time before Eugene took his rifle out again, and he always made sure he knew his target before he fired.
Eugene had good reason to think of the dove during the rest of his years on the farm. When the winter snows came, the circle where the dove fell remained completely clear. When the green grass of spring and summer grew, it surrounded the circle of brown earth, but nothing ever grew in that circle.
People wondered if the spirit of the dove lived on after the bird's untimely death on the eve of Thanksgiving all those years ago.
Shadow of a Boy
This story came from Roberta's side of the family. Barbara Jane Alley told this to her sister Lou Ann, Roberta's grandmother, and Lou Ann passed it on.
When Barbara Jane was in her teens, she once spent a winter with relatives in southern Kentucky near the Tennessee state line. Her Uncle Samuel had broken his leg in a fall from a horse and was left weak and sick. He and Aunt Lou had two small girls, but they were too young to be of much help to their mother. Lou and Samuel had lost an older boy in an accident the winter before, so they needed a pair of strong, young hands to help out. Barbara Jane was used to hard work at home, and she was happy to stay with them when they asked her. Her presence was very welcome that winter.
Barbara Jane helped with the milking, cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing. Aunt Lou often sent her through the woods close
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