Stem the flow

Caleb, Scott, and Luke walked back the driveway, past the sugar camp, and to the edge of the driveway. One at a time, they sat on their rumps and slid under the barbed wire fence and down a steep five foot bank into the heifer pasture. They followed a cow path to the lower part of the pasture and gingerly made their way across a marshy wet spot by jumping from one clump of grass to another. They were wearing their rubber muck boots but they knew from experience that they were in danger of getting stuck in the mud if they didn't stick to more solid ground. 

The three boys glanced over at a rusted elongated dome that stuck out of the mud to their right. The surface of the object was smooth with the exception of two rough protrusions. The object was the subject of countless discussions and debates among the brothers. They had theorized extensively about the purpose of the object but had not come to any consensus. They thought it might be a treasure chest or a cast iron coffin. They thought it might be a door to an underground tunnel system or the hull of a long-lost boat. They always said they were going to dig it up and find out what it was but never did. What if it was a coffin? (One possibility that the boys never considered was the possibility that it was simply an old cast iron bath tub that had been discarded upside-down and left to be buried by the elements and the cows that trampled on and around it.) 

They finally reached the other side of the marshy area and picked up their pace, thankful to be on solid ground. They kicked rocks and stomped their way through cow pies watching the round forms explode around their rubber boots as they left foot-shaped voids in their wakes. Finally, they arrived at their destination. They stood on a bank and looked over the edge at the trickling rippled surface of the pasture creek below them. They weren't really supposed to be at the creek, but if they could stay kinda clean they figured they could get away with it.

At first, they contented themselves with tossing rocks into the deeper water and listening to the bloop of the smooth stone breaking through the surface of the clear water. The stones disturbed the mud on the bottom of the babbling brook causing a cloudy plum to blossom around the stone and fade quickly as the flow of the water whisked it away. As they walked along the bank, minnows and crawfish darted in and out of the rocks and crevices in the short walls of the creek. Caleb walked into the water and peered in between the protruding roots of one of a tree growing on the bank looking for any water creature activity. He was rewarded with several crawfish that darted backwards with impressive speed, into the mud behind them in search of protection from what their instincts told them was a predator.

“Hey guys, did you see those crawfish?” Caleb inquired of his younger brothers. “They're super fast.”

“Yeah,” Scott replied. “Wanna make a dam?”

“Uh-huh,” Caleb responded with a note of duh in his voice. “What do you think we came out here for?”

“Yeah,” Luke interjected in a weak attempt to insert himself into the sibling banter.

Scott just shrugged his shoulders and shot back. “Well, lets build a dam then.”

There, in the shade of a couple of creekside cherry trees, the three boys set to work on the task at hand. A significant widening of the creek had been caused by unusual eroding as a result of the tree roots on either side. This presented the perfect opportunity for the creation of a small pool, if a proper dam could be constructed to obstruct the flow of the creek. The boys set to work immediately. Caleb and Luke began by gathering the largest rocks they could find and laying them in the water where the creek narrowed. Scott walked downstream a ways and pulled several large chunks of grass out of the soft ground by the roots. By the time he returned to the construction site, his brothers had several large rocks laid out in a line across the creek.

Scott handed a couple of his uprooted grass chunks to Caleb and the two of them began to shove the grass into the voids in between and on top of the rocks.

“Luke,” Scott addressed his younger brother. “We need more of this kind of grass, with the dirt and roots still attached.”

Luke nodded his head and followed his brother's orders. Scott didn't give his older brother any orders. The Henning family employed a pecking order which served to tell the kids who was in charge in the absence of their parents. The pecking order basically stated that each child was only in charge of the children who were younger than himself. If a sibling resisted an order given by an older sibling, the older child would simply say “pecking order” and as long as the order was reasonable, the younger sibling would comply or risk being reported to the next ranking sibling or one of their parents. This system of rank provided some structure and a lot of friction in the large family. It probably never occurred to Luke that the pecking order wouldn't necessarily hold sway in a situation such as this one. After all, Caleb and Scott weren't likely to report Luke to their parents for not observing the pecking order in a situation where they were all doing something they weren't supposed to be doing at all. 

Caleb and Scott worked plugging leaks with the grassy chunks that their younger brother brought, leaving a slight dip in the middle of the dam to act as an overflow. They dug slimy pebbly mud from the bottom of the creek and smeared it all over the makeshift obstruction as a finishing touch and then stood back to admire their creation. The flow of the water now collided with the dam and curved back on itself as the cavity that the boys had created filled. The water in the pool was clouded with mud at first, but as the water began to flow over the dam, the pool began to clear. After a few minutes, the three brothers could see the bottom of the one and a half foot deep pool that was the direct result of their labor. They looked at each other and nodded in satisfaction.

“You know,” Scott began with some hesitation. “If we took our boots and socks off, and rolled up our pant legs, we could probably play in that without getting our clothes wet.”

Caleb and Luke looked at each other as if weighing the options and shrugged their shoulders. The boys simultaneously dropped to their rumps on the dry grass of the creek bank and hastily pulled their boots and socks from their feet. Their rolled up their pant legs as far as they could (which was much further for Caleb and Luke than is was for Scott as the second son's legs were somewhat stockier than the other boy's were) and rushed to stick their bare feet into the cold water. A few weeks earlier, they would have never gone barefoot because their father had a strict never-go-barefoot-until-May rule and even though they were already breaking the don't-play-in-the-creek rule, there was just no getting around the seasonal barefoot embargo. 

The boys smiled broadly as they swished through their newly constructed pond. The bottom of the creek was covered in pebbles in some places and muddy in others. The small rocks were mostly smooth and harmless and massaged the boys' feet in a way that they would appreciate much more if they were older. The mud squished in between their toes and curled over their toe knuckles like slimy fingers that tickled their feet in a way that made them grimace and giggle at the same time. 

Just as they were really starting to enjoy them selves, a clear crisp two-toned whistle rode the early summer breeze right to the brothers' ears. Their heads jerked up and their eyes widened as Caleb puckered up his lips and responded with a loud three-toned-whistle. The children scrambled from the creek and made a mad dash for their boots. They shoved their socks inside and made the tedious journey back across the marsh and scrambled up the bank to the driveway. The whistle they had heard was from their dad. Rather than looking for the children or yelling for them in a way that might bother the neighbors, Dale whistled for them. The children didn't know why they were needed, but it didn't matter. They were to report post haste.

They boys made their way across the driveway by employing an awkward wince-walk that was the direct result of the discomfort caused by walking on the gravel drive in their bare feet. Their rolled up pant legs bumped against their calves like the body of a bell against it's clapper. Their pants had not managed to stay dry, despite their best efforts. They walked single file on the grassy swath in between the more harsh tire tracks on either side. Eventually, the grassy path disappeared entirely as they reached the parts of the drive that got the most traffic. They finally got to the yard where they ran to the house as quickly as they could. Scott, not being as quick as either of his brothers, was the last one to drop his boots on he ground outside and rush into the kitchen. 

The boys stood on the green linoleum floor waiting to see just how much trouble they were in. Christa looked them up and down, allowing her gaze to rest on the still-wet bell-like cuffs of their rolled-up pant legs. She shook her head disapprovingly and addressed her hooligans.

“I thought I told you boys that I didn't want you playing in the crick.” She paused to give her sons the opportunity to respond though she didn't expect them to. “It's dinnertime. Go change your pants before your dad sees you.”