Olive Wood

On August 9, 2007 · 0 Comments

Olive Wood

Beware Of The Olive Branch

'Peace' is mighty fine word that was spoken time and time again by politicians and statesmen, but how many times have they waved the olive branch and ended with guns thundering. Now there are ways to achieve the required peace; sure, right as rain there is the straight path to that goal. The leaders of the globe could achieve peace and quiet without running about like mules, hee-hawing and kicking up their heels. Quite simple if the boyos on top would learn a simple lesson from a wise leader who had said when troubles had loomed in the past, 'talk and carry a big stick'. It was a good lesson to be learned and remembered, but some of the headmen at times gone by thought they knew better and they let the words of history fall by the wayside and the end results were in the flow of blood of the innocent. Now, again the word ‘peace' is hammered out and black clouds loom in the distance.

The so-called wise and learned chaps that govern the simple and honest folk could quite easily achieve the needed peace without all that gobbledygook by simply watching the ways of the furred and feathered.

Set yourself down and I will spell out a way that an elder swore on his word that the phrase of 'talk and carry a big stick' was understood by nature's critters.

The winter days were the time of setting oneself around the warmth of the pot-bellied stove at Daniel's Feed and Grain store; actually the esteemed establishment was the general store of the small town. It was the time of the year when the old duffers left their perch on the benches near the courthouse and established their right around the iron apparatus filled with burning logs. Daniel the graying owner, nor did his son Robbie, his helpmate, were ever bothered by the company of the elder gents as long as their aim was true to the center of the spittoon. The store was mighty big as one would say and the odd customer that drifted in would feel rather small in such a large place sided with the counter, shelving, sacks, barrels, hardware, and centered with the stove. There being no complaint except from buxom Mrs. Tatum, the wife of the postmaster as somehow at one time she was too near the spittoon.

The number of elders setting around the stove was never more that eight or nine in number and sometimes Daniel would fill in his bulky frame on an empty chair and join them. Daniel was a mighty nice fellow as he saw that there were enough hardback chairs, stools and crates circling the pot-bellied stove. But one chair with a bit of plush was always reserved for the eldest of the lot, a Jesse Stuart, pensioner in the late eighties in years. The elder was always known to be the leader of the group and thus he had a reserved place either on the park bench or at the general store.

Jesse Stuart as far as one could remember was a real good looker, tall and straight in his stance. Even at his elder years he was quite handsome with his chiseled features crinkled with laughing blue eyes, a smile on his lips and topped with a mane of well-trimmed white hair. True his once hardened body was a bit flabby and the straight of his back was slightly bent in age. But, all and all, he was known to be presentable in dress and polite in his manners.

It was the usual day with the nip of frost in the air as the gathering elders circled the heat of the stove. At first the chattering was limited to the gossip of the town, but nary a word on partying or the score in sports as it is was the talk of city folk. As they settled down, tales of the past were spelled out; true, some the stories were as long as Daniel's beaked snout and hard to take as honest truth. Until Jesse Stuart, after wiping his tobacco stained lips, took the floor and let his words flow in a somewhat believing tale that was told in the slur of his tongue.

"Well, my friends, read in some news rag that we are having a spot of trouble in the far eastern countries; they are sending many ships, soldiers and guns in order to have a bit of peace. Now that isn't right. No siree! Real waste of money! Now, I'm a going to spell out a story how the Lord's good critters took the problem of having a bit of understanding between them. Now, I swear that what I goin' t'say ye can believe or not."

Old Jesse hawked and his aim was true in the center of the spittoon... "Now I had at one time a chicken coop with a very fine rooster, named Rastus as the boss man who kept his feathered wives in check. That cock would stride through the yard with his coxcomb tall and straight in his airs. He would patrol the grounds and when feathers flew between two chickens, he would give a few hardy pecks on the culprits and quiet followed. Peace reigned throughout the coop from his crowing at the early dawn to the dark of night.

"Yet, Rastus had one serious problem and that was the snooping of Brer' Fox who ran along the chicken wire yapping and snuffing and looking for a way to enter and enjoy a good meal. But, to the bleakness of his sight, the wiring was fixed properly in place. The vision of the pecking chickens slavered his jaws and added to the hunger of his grumbling belly. He had another problem and that was the cock Rastus who had a sharp eye and would yell out a hoot and holler when he was spotted. The ruckus could have woken the devil himself. Then my missus would leave her chores and come a'running with an equal hoot and holler. With an erratic aim from her carried shotgun she would let off a blast of shot that forced him to hightail.

"Brer' Fox was a sneaky sort of a feller and he wasn't going to give up so easily. Now one fine early morning when Rastus was cock-a-doodling away on top of a roosting house, he crept up to fence. The cock had spied him but before he was able to give out a hoot and holler Brer' Fox whispered a few hushes and told Rastus he wanted a parley with him. Well, the bird was quite curious, as we know of the way of all critters. The rooster hushed up and bent his head, which told in this manner that he is willing to listen.

"The sly fox opened the confab with a soothing phrase 'peace be with you' which somewhat quieted the fears of Rastus. Brer' Fox continued, 'My tender and beautiful friend, why will you not greet or look at one that brings you mighty fine news!' Well, old Rastus was quite suspicious and pretended he did not hear correctly the sly critter's word. Brer Fox carried on in his speechifying, 'if you only knew of the amazing good tidings, you would open the coop's gate and embrace me!'

"Brer' Fox carried on in the parlaying and told of gathering of the animals in the nearby forest and of the agreement between them. It was a peace offering, which offers friendship to all critters whether they are savage beasts or the animals and birds of house and farm. He told the cock that no more would one animal feast on another but would enjoy meals of 'taters, turnip greens and veggie grits'. 'The critters of the wood have given me the job of spreading the word. Now you can well understand why I have come so early in the morn in order to wish you peace and offer you my friendship.'

"Rastus stood in his indifference and stretched out his scrawny neck, and cocked his head slightly with a wary eye on the fox. The curious fowl listened to the cunning feller as he spoke real nice and polite, not like a sneaky critter. He heard the animal's words spelling out a time in the coming future when all the feathered and furred would be kissing cousins.

"The cock was not fooled by the flowery words of Brer' Fox but he kept his manners as he spoke in a screechy tone. He told the sly critter that his words are most appreciated, but that a nearby sight troubled him. ‘My eyes are quite dim early in the morn but I spy something mighty big skittering along the path to the coop. It looks like a form of flesh and blood with two legs, long and stumpy running with a large pointed iron rod held in a steady hand grip'.

"Brer' Fox knew that the words pointed to Adamkin and he turned his bushy tail to the wind leaving behind parting words, 'I'm afraid I am afraid that I have urgent matters to deal with so I must say farewell to you, my dear friend.' Rastus answered him promptly, 'wait, wait, brother, I am coming down and ready to embrace you'. Whereas the fox trailed an answer as he ran, 'unfortunately the sons of man were not at this peace parlay.'

"There was hushed silence as elder Jesse Stuart finished his tale only giving another hawking and spitting sound as tobacco juice centered in the spittoon. 'Now, I'm not goin' to advice any politicos of their business but they should take a lesson from the dumb critters, especially from Ol' Rastus. Simply, be right in your manners and let one speak. Just a bit of warning, not to take kindly to flatterin' words and always have a hefty stick quite near and handy.'"

About the Author

The author is a former correspondent for the Continental News Service (USA), now retire.