#feghoots

Lyle was a carpenter who lived out in the country. One day his sanding tool broke, and hoping to avoid a long trip into town, he decided to look around his house for something to replace it. But search as he did, nothing seemed to do the trick, so he went for a walk, hoping it would clear his mind and give him some ideas.

Out in the fields, many of the long grasses and flowers gave way to thorny weeds, and among them, the burr plant. One look at the burrs told him that they would be perfect. He plucked as many as he could and carried them all home, then set to work rubbing them against a plank of wood.

They worked, but slowly. He needed more force; he couldn't hope to sand it properly with just his hands. After experimenting with different setups, he finally found the perfect solution—attaching the burrs to some old kneepads, he knelt on the wood and moved his legs around over their surface, dragging the burrs along until the wood had a beautiful, smooth finish.

He could hardly believe it—this simple contraption worked better than his sanding tool! It was too great an invention to keep to himself; he had to share this with the world. Who knew, maybe he could make a fortune from this.

So he sanded down several pieces of scrap wood so that he might hand them out as samples, loaded them into the back of his truck, and drove into the city. He lay them out in a row and waited for someone to stop by.

Someone did, and asked what he had there.

One summer in college, I volunteered at an animal hospital in the Pine Barrens. We'd take in injured or sick wildlife, for the most part, nurse them back to health, and release them after a while. We mostly took care of raccoons, small birds, maybe the odd deer. I remember a few baby ducks that came in around mid-June that I got to see released the week I went back to school. Really hard work, but one of the few truly positive things I've done with my life.

The highlight of the summer, however, was Richard. Richard was a red-tailed hawk who'd been on the losing end of a fight with a passing motorist and came to us with several broken bones. I say "us," but he'd actually been nursed most of the way back to health by the time I showed up in May. 

Anyway, he was ready to be released by the end of the summer, but we didn't want to just turn him loose so he could get hit by another car. So we made arrangements for him to be sent to an animal sanctuary in Kentucky. The problem was that the undermanned and mostly volunteer staff couldn't spare someone to drive a day there and a day back--probably two people, considering the complications of taking a bird of prey in a cage. And neither could the Kentucky folks spare someone to pick him up.

So my boss worked out a plan to ship Richard to Kentucky. He called around to a few places, expecting to pay a couple grand, tops, to get this bird somewhere safe.

The first company he called gave him a quote--I don't remember the figure, but it was in excess of fifty thousand dollars. My boss would have been livid if he hadn't been so confused. So he called the folks, and the conversation went something like this.

Shipping Company Guy: Oh, you're the guy who called us about mailing the bird.

My boss: That's right. Richard, the Red-Tailed Hawk. Why is it so expensive?

SCG: You want to put a raptor in the mail, you've got to send him the whole way by S-76.

Boss: What's that?

SCG: Helicopter, man.

Boss: Helicopter? You can't send him by rail or truck? That'd make more sense.