it was good, that afternoon to thaw the hawk that had spent the last month in my freezer, to stretch a tape measure from wingtip to wingtip, from beak to tail and determine, "yes, Cooper's Hawk,"to ask it for a few feathers it will no longer need, and to finally bury it in the clay banks of a stock pond outside of town.
then the boys made atlatls and darts from brittle willow sticks and peacock feathers. Ash, of course, loved this too.
after 5 or so years of being the Webelos leader, I've gotten pretty well reacquainted with the 10-year-old heart.
and poop jokes.