1950Ss SMALL TOWN LIFE: BUZZARDS INVITED

I always loved playing at Marie's house. For one thing, it was just we two when we played at her house. We didn't have to let anyone else play with us. Well, there was always Ricky, her brother, but we stayed away from him as much as we could.

Some days, if he acted especially pathetic, we would grudgingly allow him to play with us, thinking we could use it to good advantage later, like at school, when we needed someone to push us on the swings. But he tried to take over our playing, and that always annoyed us. Today, it looked like we couldn't get rid of him. His third grade will sometimes overpowered our first grade ones.

"We want to push our dolls outside in the doll carriage," Marie said reasonably that Tuesday in May. We could still find cool spots under the big pecan trees in their side yard.

"I'm not going to play dolls," he pouted. "Y'all never play what I want."

"Ok, we'll play hide and seek or chase, but only for a little while!" Marie told him firmly.

For the next hour, we kept him pacified: running, hiding, chasing, yelling, doing all the things boys thrive on. Then we got tired of it, but he threatened never again to push us on the swings at school. And that is how it happened that we took part in his dumbest scheme ever.

"See those buzzards up there?" he asked.

We looked straight up, craned our necks, shielded our eyes from the sun, and saw three large birds circling lazily, high in the azure sky.

"We see them," Marie said. "So what?"

"So I want to see if we can get them to land, so I can kill them." Ricky said, in a tone like he'd offer someone candy.

"Why do you want to kill them? That's bad," Marie told him.

"They're no good to anyone, and they're dirty."

I didn't say anything because it was a brother/sister fight, and I thought it was getting weird talking about killing an animal, but best for me to keep quiet.

"Well, anyway, Ricky," Marie said reasonably, "your bb gun won't shoot that far."

"I'm going to get them to land down here," he said, looking sincere.

"How?"

"I want y'all to lay down in the yard with your arms spread out. Close your eyes, hold your breath, and they'll think you're dead."

"And if they fly down here, are you gonna shoot them with your bb gun?" she asked, like it was a logical plan. I was beginning to wonder about her thought process, too; an unbidden desire to go home seized me.

"No, silly," he said, sounding like he was talking to someone who couldn't understand. "I'm going to hit them with this baseball bat!" He pulled a wooden bat from behind his back, and made several swings with it like he was hitting a ball-or a bird.

"Ok, lie down," he ordered.

"We don't want to." Marie spoke for both of us.

"Please," his tone had changed. He was begging now.

Marie looked at me. We looked up at the buzzards. They were a long way off. We seemed to reach some unspoken agreement when we made eye contact. Both of us lay down in the warm bermuda grass, out in the open sun in the front yard. Ricky hid in the edge of the garage, bat at the ready. Just as we began to fear the birds would swoop down upon us, Marie's mother pulled into the driveway from a quick trip to the store a block away.

"What are you girls doing?" she exclaimed shrilly as she leaped from the car.
"Where is Ricky? He told me he'd watch you for five minutes while I ran to the store."

We said nothing as we stood up and brushed grass off our shorts and tops, but we pointed simultaneously in the direction of the garage.

Ricky came out, bat hanging loosely at his side.

Marie's mother had question marks all over her face, but we pretended not to notice. We were going to leave it to Ricky to answer all those.

"I was watching them," he said lamely. "They wanted to get a tan for the summer. I'm just practicing my swing for baseball," he lied.

Mrs. Morrison looked skeptical. We sank deeper into our muteness. Ricky looked to us for help, but it would never come.

"Just get in the house, Ricky!" she said, exasperated. "I'll deal with you in a minute. Whatever lamebrained thing you had planned, I'm just glad I was only gone five minutes. I can't trust you for a second. What am I going to do with you?"

Marie and I resumed our preferred play, walking our dolls in their carriages up and down the gravel street. Overhead, the buzzards flew unperturbed in their large lazy circles, the death merchants largely unaware of how close they had come to their own end on this bright and sunny day.
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