Monments To Remember: The Indigo Bunting

Last Thursday, I got out of work early, took care of some business in Hudson and headed back home. From Hudson to New Richmond, there are many choices to take. Am I in a hurry? Do I need to travel on some memory lanes? Would I care for some scenic beauty? Do I want to get a pop and a candy bar in Burkhart? The list of choices isn't endless, but there are options.

That day I took the Trout Brook way which takes me on the two branches of the Willow River below the Willow River State Park. This route combines the scenic beauty and memory lanes options. A liesurely drive down this road, over the bridges and up the hill bring back countless memories that range back to when I was six or seven.

The memory that struck me on that drive was the day a spotted the indigo bunting about thirty years ago. A few of us were out for a summer morning cruise, after 11-7 in the cool of the makings of a hot summer day. A guy I knew who was working for the state park was on the bridge and we stopped to talk. He was doing some type of fish survey on that part of the river. While talking, a blue flash stopped in the trees a little ways off. "What kind of bird is that?," I asked. He said an indigo bunting.

It was a bird of the most beautiful blue. When I got home that day, I looked it up in my bird book and read up on it. Since them I have spotted the indigo bunting only a couple times. It's always been in the cool of the morning and in a well shaded place.

Then I remember that as we continued our road cruise, we came across a bum walking down the railroad tracks on the spur line south of Burkhardt. By then, I was getting warm. We stopped and asked if he wanted a beer. His eyes opened wide, as he took it, opened it and guzzled in right down. Then we gave him another and told him to have a good day. He said he would.

That became a tradition for some of us when we be on a road cruise and see some bum or hitchhiker standing in the sun. As a matter of fact, I ran a across I guy fixing his flat tire northwwest of New Richmond a couple years ago. It was very hot and I had a 12-pack I had purchased to bring to band practice -- my destination. A stopped along side the guy and ask if he need help. He said thanks, but he was just about finished. "In that case," I continued, "would you like a cold beer." "Damn right," he said. He took the can of beer, opened it and guzzled it right down. "Oh man!, that really hit the spot!," he said. "Have another," I said and handed him one more.

"Thanks man! You have made my day!"