Outhouse.....Part Two. Eagles Nest, Just Starting

Janny and I when we were just starting to explore our adventuresome side.  We look  neat and tidy,  so I'd say it was a good day. We're about four years old here.        

This is a post script to my last blog for those of you who wondered whether Janny and I ever took a ride in that barrel ourselves.  Nope, ‘fraid not.  Not that we didn’t want  to give it a go, but my mother made it pretty clear in her own fashion (aka: spanking) the barrel ride was unacceptable and dire punishment awaited the one who choose to question her flexibility on the subject.  We may have been  unwittingly stupid,  but  we weren’t dumb  when we took sufficient  time to ponder the practicality of our actions.  Besides, the barrel and any other  large round objects disappeared from the premise. 

As it was, we didn’t have long to question the forbidden fruit known as “THE BARREL” (yes,  said in capital letters,) because we had a new adventure in about this same time frame to direct our attention to.   It all started very innocently as most of our undertakings tended to do.

We had been eyeing a phenomenon on the landscape about a quarter mile from our country house for some time.  Time in our world could have been any where between an hour to several weeks.  Kids have a different perspective of time than adults do.    A huge hill with one side covered by a sandy brown bluff, it rose from the land around it like an Egyptian pyramid.  Or the early Indian homes on Mesa Verde. In hindsight I’m sure the only reason we hadn’t already explored this particular marvel on the flat land where we lived was a niggling  thought in our young heads  that we may have been directed not to go there.

Janny and I about the age we began to explore the world,  or at least our small section of it. Janny may look a bit lady like in  her skirt, but it's all pretense.  She was as much a tomboy as I was. We were about 10 or 11 at this time.

After devising a plan of how to best make the hike to this marvelous wonder we packed a lunch and off we went.  It loomed larger and larger as we drew near it and in breathless wonder, we looked at each other and said, “We must climb this!”  That agreed on, we excitedly began to look for the best place to start the climb.  While  scouting the base (a kid does not simply look, they ‘scout’) looking for a likely foothole, we both noticed a large bird circling directly above us. We both decided it was a chicken hawk and continued our quest.  Than we noticed the bird was circling lower.  Now, we knew chicken hawks and we were smart enough (yes, I am throwing the word “smart” around rather loosely again) to know it was to large to be a hawk.  Beyond that,  our knowledge of large birds was limited so we took the path of least resistance.  We ran just as fast as we could back to the house.  When we were able to tell my mother, between gasps for breath, about the prehistoric bird that followed us home…..I believe I have mentioned before we had rather creative imaginations…we knew by the expression on her face we were in trouble again.

Seriously, we may have had a thought we weren’t suppose to go to the bluff,  but neither of us could remember being told an EAGLE lived there!  We not only would have remembered that, but the temptation to go there would have called out  to us much sooner than it did.  There was an eagle with a nest there?  How much cooler could it get than that?

The first chance that presented itself, we were off again,  lunch in hand and I believe weapons to protect ourselves.  More than likely, slingshots….but, hey!  Made us feel we could take on a flock of eagles if need be.  Now, the real fun would start.

For starters, the source of our excitement and quest had to have a name.  It became known as “The Eagles Nest.”  I didn’t say we were creative at coming up with names; just in our sources of amusement.  “The Eagles Nest” was always said with undertones of ominous,  thunderous musical tones (in our minds.)  Also, a certain amount of reverence as this was the place that captured our imagination and energy for quite some time.

"Eagles Cliff" from the road leading to the house.  Also shown is the face of the bluff.  Sadly, no trace of the nest remains.

Be advised the pictures I’m putting on here may seem to indicate this spectacular bluff wasn’t as majestic as I’m describing.  Believe me, to children, they were as towering and stately as anything John Wayne ever climbed in his efforts to get away from outlaws, Indians or husband-seeking-females in his movies.  Plus, we believed ourselves to be equally as brave in our pursuit to reach our objective near the center of that large cliff.  The eagles nest!  Yes, there was a purpose more than just climbing the face of the bluff.  We would make it to the large nest and return with a……feather.  We knew the nest was large because we could see it from the ground. There was a question about a feather, because we didn’t know if Eagles left them lying around.

My two older brothers somehow discovered what we were up to and decided they had to not only join us in our mission, but turned it into a competition by insisting they’d make it to the nest  before we silly girls did.  Now, there was motivation to drive us past any fear we may have had about traversing some of the steeper slopes of the cliff.  Oh heck, we were idiots….we didn’t actually have any fear.  

So, it was on.  No rules; anything was fair game.   At one point, Janny and I took the easy way  up the hill to the face of the bluff, and from atop it she lowered me on a rope so I could see the nest.  What an exciting moment.  It WAS huge and it was nestled back in the face of the cliff a ways so I couldn’t be dropped into the nest.  I had to try swinging myself back and forth, attempting to get to it.  I think all I did was basically spin in circles while Janny yelled to hurry up because she was having trouble hanging on to the rope we had tied from around my waist to a large rock.  It is true, God does take care of drunks and stupid, reckless  children.

After repeated failed attempts, we never did make it  to the nest, nor did my brothers.  We did make it  far enough along a trail that inched along the slope about half way up.  We toed our way along a ledge about the width of one foot with quivering excitement and the knowledge we were probably the first people ever to walk along that slope, we discovered  words etched into the face of the bluff, “ Kilroy was here, 1940”, or  something like that.  We were completely devastated to discover someone else had made it to that location.  We spent about 15 seconds being distraught before continuing on with our mission. We had decided that “Kilroy”, or whoever, hadn’t made it any further and more than likely died a perilous death right on that spot.

There were no deaths before the completion of that particular mission, but there was an injury.  Dick, my oldest brother - by 2 years, -  fell off the cliff and broke an arm.  Sadly to say, the folks didn’t appreciate our tales of the heroic measures we had suffered in our attempts to bring home an eagles feather. (See?  We actually did keep a purpose in mind.)  Dick was saved from dishwashing chores for quite some time,  we barely escaped with our lives (from mom) and it goes without saying,  we were barred from any further adventures across the field where our beloved “Eagles Nest” beaconed to us. 

Years later brother Steve and I would return to “Eagles Nest”with our spouses.  One should never, ever return to any place that held a special place in your heart as children.  You’ll only be disappointed.  As our mates laughed at the small bluff they heard so much about, Steve and I stood quietly, staring up the face of that cliff. Not only did we feel the nostalgic pull of one of our revered childhood adventures and how deeply we felt about it, but at the same time we experience disappointment that it wasn’t the glorious, rugged, monstrous mountain we had left in our memories.  Steve  rather mournfully questioned, “Maybe it’s been eroded and washed away by rain over the years?” “Mmmmm”, I replied.   “Perhaps.”