Island Excursion

“So, do you think it's changed much?” 

“I don't know,” Caleb responded to the inquiries of his younger brother.

“You never know what sort of things can happen over the course of a winter,” Wayne interjected.

Scotty shrugged his shoulders as he continued the long trek to the island. Caleb and Wayne were best friends. At the age of thirteen, they tolerated the presence of Caleb's younger brother who was two years their junior. Scotty trailed a couple of steps behind the older kids as the best friends chatted about things the younger brother didn't quite understand. He didn't mind, it was either this, or hang out with his younger sister, who always seemed to act older anyways.

The three boys were headed out to The Island. Years earlier, when the farm was in it's infancy, the field the boys were walking through had been covered in trees. The trees had been cut down and used for lumber and firewood. The stumps had all been pushed into a pile in the middle of the field. Over the years, small trees and grass grew up through the stumps and created an island like formation in the middle of a wide open field, hence the name The Island.

The Island had been a favorite canvass for the imagination of the children. They would play all sorts of different games out there. Sometimes they were soldiers fighting unseen enemies in the jungles of Vietnam. They'd weave in and out through the stumps and trees providing cover fire for their comrades as they made their way through enemy territory. Occasionally, one of the old root clusters would become the figurehead of a pirate ship off the coast of South America. The boys would become captured sailors fighting their captors as they tried to escape from the perils of walking the plank.

Sometimes, their imaginations would create more structured environments. Sometimes they'd hold mock senate meetings, with Caleb as the president, Wayne as the vice, and Scott as the finance minister. It wasn't lost on any of the three that the position of finance minister held no power since there were no finances to be placed under Scott's control. The boys had carved seats out of a particularly large root formation and used an old rubber milker liner as a microphone, which the youngest rarely got to hold. 

The summer before they had become convinced that they were going to dig an intricate tunnel system just like the one in one of their favorite TV shows, Hogan's Heroes. They had brought shovels out and started digging in two or three different places. They had gotten a couple of two foot deep holes dug, just wide enough to sit in before they realized that the stump laden soil was not conducive to tunneling.

 

The boys were headed out for the first island excursion of the season. As they approached their yearly hangout, they looked around. They saw their partially eroded tunnel non-starters with hard packed bottoms covered in pebbles and leaves. They saw various signs of animal activity such as nibbled leaves and trails through the stumpage. 

The older two boys immediately pulled their pocket knives from their hip pockets and got to work on a couple of small saplings. It was practically a yearly tradition to pick a staff. Staffs were universally useful. There were the obvious uses, such as using it as a walking stick or for Robin Hood and Little John bridge fighting. However, with the help of some bailing twine, a green staff became a long bow, a fishing pole, or a whip. With a little imagination, a staff became a Kentucky long rifle or a broad sword. The possibilities were endless. A summer in the country just wasn't complete without a staff.

The youngest of the three followed the example of his older companions and picked a sapling for himself. Unfortunately, his hand-me-down pocket knife wasn't nearly as sharp as those of the others. Caleb and Wayne were well into their island exploration by the time the younger brother finished his staff.

“Wait for me, guys,” He called out as he chased after his older companions. “Where are you guys anyway?”

“We're over here, behind the pirate ship stump,” Caleb responded.

Scotty walked around to the other side of the root cluster to find the older two boys examining a small hole in the ground. 

“I don't remember this being here,” Wayne remarked to the brothers.

“Maybe it's a ground hog hole,” Scotty suggested. 

“I don't thinks so,” Caleb disagreed. “I think it's a little too small for that.”

“Yeah,” Wayne agreed as Scotty shrugged. “What do you think it is?”

“I'll bet there's bees in this hole,” Caleb declared with supreme confidence.

Wayne and Scotty stepped back as Caleb drew back his staff. He gripped it with both hands and plunged it into the hole with all his strength. As it turned out, there were indeed bees in that hole. Three pairs of eyes widened as a cloud of stripped insects erupted from the three inch hole in the ground. The three boys turned on their heals and ran as fast as they could from The Island, the stinging insects hot on their tails. 

Caleb, having been closest to the hive, had the greatest motivation for putting distance between himself and The Island. It wasn't long before the other boys had been left in the dust. They paused for a moment and listened. With the lack of any tell tale buzzing, Wayne and Scotty breathed deeply as they attempted to catch their breath.

“Well, I guess we lost them,” Wayne commented in between breaths.

“Yeah, and Caleb lost us,” Scotty wheezed. “Who knew he could run so fast? Do you think he got stung?”

“Probably,” Wayne surmised. “He was right there when those bees came flying out of there. I'll bet this is one time in his life that he wishes he was wrong.”

“For real,” Scotty agreed. “I guess we'd better get back to the house and see how he's doing.”

Wayne nodded and the two of them made their way back to the farm house. They reached the gravel driveway after a couple of minutes and crossed the creek bridge. Scotty made certain to keep to the center. A few years earlier, he had fallen into the creek on his way to his grandpa's house. After that, he made it a point to keep away from the edge unless he actually wanted to get wet. The two of them looked towards the big white farmhouse and could just see Caleb and his mom through the gaps in the picket fence. He looked a little strange. As Wayne and Scotty got closer, they began to see why.

Caleb was standing in the middle of the sidewalk wearing nothing but a sullen, defeated look and his whitey tighties. His mother was using a basting brush to apply a paste of baking soda and milk to the tell tale red spots that dotted the older brother's body.

“Well, there you guys are,” Mrs. Henning greeted. “I was wondering if you two got lost. Do you think you managed to find enough excitement for the day?”

“Yeah,” the three replied in unison.

“So,” Mrs. Henning pressed with some hesitation. “What exactly happened out there today?”

“Well,” Wayne began. “As it turns out, there was bees in that hole.”