Bartle Clunes - Chapter 32
Entomology and skinny-dipping in the moonlight
Previous chapters are listed in the Bartle Clunes archive - Click here .
If you are new, please start here - Introduction to Bartle Clunes .
El Dorado County 1951
“I believe I’ll walk across to the studio this morning, Louvina,” said Bartle. Maggie, hearing the word 'walk', jumped up and gave himself a good shake and a vigorous scratch behind his left ear. “Lord knows I could use the exercise, and I should take advantage of this fine September weather. I’ll ride home with Ayla before dark. Anything you want me to do before I go?” He lay little Pearly back into her basket, touching her cheek to make her smile, and sat down at the kitchen table.
Louvina put his breakfast in front of him, oatmeal, bacon, applesauce and coffee and gave him a kiss on top of his head. “No, you go on. I would dearly love to come with you, but I have both babies today. That Philo is such a handful! Already, at three months, I see their personalities are so different.”
“Well, Pearly seems quieter, but she is also more determined about what she wants. Something tells me she will be ruling over that poor boy by next year. She is her mother's daughter, very sweet, but definitely in charge!” Louvina gave her husband a nod of agreement on both counts, and a fond smile.
After breakfast, Bartle kissed his wife and his sleeping baby and set out for the day. He walked down the hill in front of the house, Maggie at his side, and crossed the creek on the stepping stones. Soon he began climbing up the other side of the draw. He reached the top of the first rise, calf muscles lightly complaining, stopping to catch his breath. He surveyed the grassy rolling countryside that lay below him and around him on all sides. These yellow hills were at their best in the fall, he thought. The smell of the warm dry grass and the spicy manzanita permeated the air. A soft breeze was teasing the oaks, two red-tailed hawks circled lazily in the thermal updrafts. He inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly.
Beginning the first descent, he heard movement up ahead of him around a bend in the path. Cows, maybe. No, people! I'll be darned, looks like Eizer Griggs walking along down there, he thought. Behind the man followed a string of four young boys. Uh oh. Bartle walked a little faster to catch up. That little parcel of boys could be ornery, he knew, though Eizer never seemed to worry about them.
The boys spotted him and the dog coming down the path and alerted Eizer. “Hey, Bartle! What are you doing out this way this morning?”
“I am heading over to my place, Eizer. I have my work there, you know. I usually take the truck, but it was such a fine morning I thought I'd walk. What kind of mischief are you and all these little hooligans up to out here?”
“We are looking for arthropods,” he said. “Beetles, butterflies, dragonflies, you know – bugs!”
“We have a list of the bugs we want and we have found two already,” piped up a bespectacled boy whose name was Jerome. Jerome’s glasses needed new frames. They looked as if they had been stuck back together in the middle with a couple of Band-Aids.
Peter, the smallest of the lot, said, “It is like a treasure hunt. We put them in jars so we can study them and make pictures of them.” The boys each held up two small jelly jars with a leaf inside and holes poked in the lids.
Theo, whose unusual hair was nearly white, said, “We got this one too. Eizer thinks it is a June bug, but we have to look it up in a book.”
Eli said, “And then we let them all go. Eizer says we don't want to hurt them because they all have work to do. Here is our list. We already got us a stink beetle and a lady beetle,” he said, handing Bartle his list.
“Well, look at that. That is quite a list,” he said. The boys went running off to continue searching. “Eizer, you are a good man. This is a fine thing you are doing out here in the hills, giving so much time to these boys,” said Bartle. “They're having fun out here and learning something at the same time.”
“Yah, well, that is the idea. Sometimes though, we just walk, and look around and talk about what we see, and that is enough. Some of these idle boys are prone to unkindness, you know, because they don't know anything better. Seems to me one of the best cures for meanness is to learn something — not be forced to learn, but in a fun sort of way. You know? My father was my best source of education. He would not let me be idle. I learned a lot from my father and from the library. I learned more in the library than I ever did in the school.”
These same boys used to follow Eizer down the road mocking and teasing him, but the relationship was moving from one of childish devilry to one of growing respect for the man. The change of behavior was due entirely to Eli, who had been conscripted into the local elementary school a month earlier. After the initial, normal tussle and rumpus for dominance, he had proven himself to be harmless and they allowed him into their circle.
Eli had invited one or two of the boys to his house to play a few times after school. Eizer fed them cake and taught them about the magic of the family Corvidae – the jays and crows and ravens, and how to tell them apart. He made each boy feel like the center of his attention, which, of course, was just what they needed.
When Bartle arrived at his house, Ayla was already there, busy at work. The place smelled of fresh coffee and linseed oil. A pot of noodle soup was simmering on the stove. He hung his jacket on a peg and slipped off his boots.
“Ayla? Just me,” he called, walking into the kitchen in his socks.
She came out of the studio, wiping her hands, a smear of paint in her hair, and came to give him a kiss. “Hi, Daddy. You're late. Did you sleep in?”
“Nope, just decided to walk over for a change. Funny thing, I came upon Eizer Griggs behind the hill there with a group of young boys in tow. He says they are his students, says he is offering covert lessons in entomology. They think they are out hunting for bugs. Eizer thinks the best way to educate the little rascals is to make a game of it.”
“How does Eizer know so much about bugs? He never went to school, did he? I mean beyond high school?”
“No, I don't imagine he did. But he is a reader, and I have found him to be a very intelligent, informed man, for all it is hidden under his rough exterior. What are you working on?”
“I have a new assignment from the Press in Berkeley. They want a few examples of California amphibians – salamanders, newts, toads. I'll show you.” She went to the studio and came back with a small colored drawing of a California Red-legged Frog.
“Cute! Very cute,” said Bartle.
“Not supposed to be cute, Daddy! Supposed to be accurate - scientifically accurate. I am almost done with the drawings. I just need to add a little light color wash. What do you have going this week? Still working on that big commissioned piece?”
“Oh, yeah. Trying to get it done. I have finished it a dozen times, but it is never finished. I have been stalled for a week, can't seem to get it right. I might have to let it sit and percolate a while, work on something else. Lord, how I do hate deadlines.”
They worked companionably together all day, father and daughter, enjoying each other's company, talking about their separate pasts, commiserating about the babies, discussing the Book Exchange, asking opinions about their current art projects. They had known each other, really, for only two years. They'd had to start from scratch, and now were close as a father and daughter could be. They admired and respected each other, and were of like mind and manner.
After dinner that evening, Bartle said to his wife, “Let's throw Pearly in her basket and go take a walk down to the creek in the moonlight.” Louvina, liking the romantic sound of that, put down her mending and went to get her shoes. Bartle pulled on his boots and they set out together, swinging the basket between them.
It had been a glorious fall day, the night air was still warm. The full yellow moon was rising above the trees like a spotlight, accompanied by a choral society of frogs and crickets. At the creek, they put the baby’s basket down in the grass and took off their shoes. They rolled up their trousers and walked around in the water, the cold mud and moss between their toes, laughing like a couple of children, holding hands taking deep breaths of the green dampness of the air.
“Let’s go on up to the swimming hole, take off our clothes and jump in for a few minutes?” said Bartle. “It has been a while since we have done that.”
“You bet!” said Louvina, seeing all the possibilities in that invitation.
Beetles! Who could have guessed? And the connections between the people around are getting both stronger and deeper. You've got a great sense of how these people are able to spend time on one another, working and enjoying life. The balance is a beautifully nostalgic one.
It brought my own memories of a person I knew we called Beetle Billy Bilko. We would go hunting beetles almost daily in Wisconsin in the summer. Long time, simple time, easy and hard time, yet such precious memories. Thanks.
They are living the good life.