Shorebirds are flocking to the backwaters, snakes and armadillos are on the move, alligators jump, and the whine of pumps can be heard along with the frogs, crickets and cicadas. The feathered remnants of a crushed hawk with a fish in its mouth float downstream, along with the skeleton of what was once a dog.
Sandbagging the Bayou
The prison crew from St. Martinsville, under the watchful eyes of a deputy, is sandbagging the Stephensville road. The men wear black striped suits that call to mind another era. The men are jovial, laughing, and don’t mind the Yankee taking a photo or two. Do prisoners still wear black stripes?
A family down the road is filling white plastic bags from the sand pile near the swing bridge. Mom and dad stand in the back of the weathered battered grey pickup bed, while the kids fill the bags and drag them over. No one talks. Shovel, drag, and lift.
The panther moves, stalking, flowing, and relentless.
