It has always been a wish of mine that my great-grandmother and grandparents had written an account of their experiences. But life was hard, and unlike Steinbeck they were too busy earning a living in the face of harsh realities to write. The father of renowned author Henry James would criticize by saying if you were really living life you had no time to write. But Henry’s father wasn’t referring to chopping cotton or picking fruits and vegetables.

However, I wanted my children to know the stories told me by my great-grandmother and grandparents together with those about the unique childhood I lived among the Dust Bowl folks and my life on the mining claim in the Sequoia National Forest. The resulting book was titled The Lord and the Weedpatcher. It was a “work in progress” from the beginning. Eventually I would include pictures of that bygone era, and many stories would continue to be added as I would recall them.

Since several of my books including TLW are either out of print or in the process of revision to bring them up to date it has been a daunting task consuming much of my time attempting to get a handle on things. Then just today I received a note from my publisher work had been slowed because of their need of a massive computer update of their own. What with nearly 300,000 new titles a year now being published one wonders how any publisher keeps up with things.

Steinbeck isn’t the only one who wrote of the Dust Bowl migration. Many have written of the Okies and Arkies that came west to settle in various parts of Kern County, and many of these having lived it with a far better perception of this migration than the “silver spoon” Steinbeck. My grandparents could have told the famous writer a thing or two about the misperceptions in his book, and several of the people who actually lived in the Weedpatch Camp have done so.

As to the stories I like to write they are the ones that largely appeal to children and young people. Such stories were my stock in trade as a teacher as well. There was seldom a lesson I was teaching that could not be accompanied by a story, which helped not only to make the lesson clear but memorable.

Nor am I through with the life experiences that continue to be the stuff of such stories. Take the following for example:

Life in the country has many rewards in exchange for the advantages of city living. A few of these rewards are the first blossoms appearing on the nightshade plants here on my property, and the annual event of momma and poppa quail bringing their newly hatched babies to the water I supply them. Here in the Sequoia National Forest we have the California Quail- distinguished by their beautiful colors, the cute topknots and marvelous, varied sounds they make. Being precocial, the babies are hatched covered with down and can very nearly fly from the time coming out of their eggshells.

Having no need of hunting for the family pot any longer, I simply enjoy watching the quail and squirrels hereabouts. There are few things that gladden my heart more than to simply watch and listen to the various critters the forest supplies. Granted, I would enjoy it far more were it not for Nature red in tooth and claw that shows no mercy for baby quail, bunnies, and ducks for example.

Notwithstanding, I have always hated zoos. Wild animals should not be caged. A pen pal recently wrote me about her desire for a raccoon when she was a young girl. Her doting father supplied her one, and in no time at all she discovered how quickly a raccoon could rearrange the furniture in a house. My being raised to a wild forest environment I suffered no such illusions about having a raccoon for a pet; nor a bobcat either. Much as the big pussycat was fascinating to watch in the wild, it never crossed my mind it would accommodate itself to a bowl of milk and “Here kitty, kitty, kitty” in our cabin.

Not altogether abandoning the desire for “exotics” I did have my share of experiences with things like the skunk that went off in our cabin, the porcupine I lassoed and observed for a short time close up, a baby great horned owl and other critters, but people that want a lion or tiger for a “pet” have to have rocks in their head.

But when it comes to catching critters none can best my daughter Karen catching the Colorado Cottontail barehanded when she was a little girl; but I came close with a baby California Quail.

I saw the quail enter the yard, momma and poppa with their brood of chicks, when out of nowhere comes the resident cat scattering the quail. As I ran outside intending to intervene I caught sight of the cat chasing what looked like one of the tiny mice I see occasionally. Not so, it was one of the baby quail. The chase was on around the pressure tank for my well. When I reached the spot I saw the baby hunkered down under the large water line going into the tank.

No one is going to catch a baby quail by chasing it. But under certain circumstances some critters will allow a very slow approach. The little thing didn’t stir as I very slowly lowered my hand over it; when close enough I made a quick grab capturing it. This presented a problem. While the tiny chick quickly settled down within the warmth and darkness of my hand gently closed around it; what does anyone do with a baby quail in hand, particularly with a cat in residence believing it has a vested interest in said baby quail? How best to return the tiny chick to its family with the cat about?

I waited for the cat to visit her food dish; something I could count on. Knowing where the momma and poppa quail had come from, once the cat was in the house I shut the door and carried the baby quail to its point of origin. Once the tiny chick was released it took off at warp speed, seeming to know exactly where it needed to go.

Some will think this is much ado about nothing. Just look at the great number of quail throughout the Valley; what is one baby quail more or less? Henry Thoreau remarked on his “wild chickens,” the partridges of Walden. He commented on the innocence to be seen in the eyes of these partridges that seemed to reflect all that was best to be found in Nature. If you can understand this, you can understand how the eyes of a single, baby quail can melt the heart, stirring a response of what is the best in humankind as well.