Jaybird’s Law

Even though he had never heard of Murphy’s Law, which states, “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” my lifelong best friend and mentor, Jaybird, often quoted his own version of it, which I called Jaybird’s law: “If sumpin’ kin go wrong, hit will go wrong.” Whenever he stated it, I teased him about being pessimistic, but on one of our hunts, I learned not to take lightly the old black man’s law.

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Jaybird loved to hunt ducks and taught me the sport soon after Dad gave me a shotgun for my sixteenth birthday and told him to teach me to hunt. On one of our outings, dawn broke drizzly and overcast — perfect weather for ducks and duck hunters. When we stepped out of my truck not far from Jaybird’s duck blind, we heard the frenzied feed calls of what sounded like a million mallards. Eager to set out the decoys and get in the blind, we pulled on our waders. Feeling a sharp pain, I yelled, “Quick, Jaybird, help me get these waders off — I think something bit my toe!” Off came the waders, and out ran a rat. Jaybird guffawed until tears ran down his cheeks. Pulling the waders back on, I thought to myself, maybe I shouldn’t take lightly Jaybird’s law. Heavy rains had saturated the Delta, and a narrow creek, usually shallow enough to wade across, was brimming at its banks. Hearing the quacking cacophony, I cast caution aside and stepped onto a log lying across the stream.

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“Junior, wit’ dem clumsy waders on, ain’t no way you gonna git to de other bank on dat slippery log,” Jaybird warned. “Let’s go on up de creek a ways until we find a better place to cross.” Ignoring my mentor’s warnings never failed to bring on misery, and sure enough, four steps into my trapeze traipse across the log, I slipped and plunged into the water. Horrified, Jaybird was about to jump in to save me, but I was able to swim to the far bank. While draining my waders, I again thought to myself, maybe I shouldn’t take lightly Jaybird’s law. Wisely, Jaybird avoided the log and found a safer passage a short distance down the creek. We set out the decoys, and in no time bagged the limit. My Doberman pinscher Straw Boss was asleep in the truck cab when we returned, and I signaled for him to hop in the back. At Jaybird’s house, we divided the kill and removed our gear from the truck bed. “Lawd have mercy,” Jaybird moaned. “Look what yo’ dad-gummed dog did to my waders.” Bored during the drive home, Straw Boss chose to exercise his fearful fangs by ripping his waders to shreds! Apologizing, I said, “My dog ruined your waders, and it’s only right that I buy you a new pair.” During the drive to my house, Straw Boss looked puzzled when I glared at him and said, “Never again will I take lightly Jaybird’s Law.”

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