Down On The Levee

It left the older disused levee dry above the flood. The old levee was built by slave labor in the early 19th century and served as foundation for the sundry primitive hunting camps housing sportsmen who so revered this remarkable piece of dirt. This antiquated structure had not been maintained in a century so it was breached in innumerable places by decades of relentless hydraulic action.

Dad and I were arrayed with our backs to a large oak facing down a length of exposed levee. Some distance ahead the structure had been cut by the river and formed a deep bowl through which the Mississippi floodwaters now vigorously flowed. A homemade turkey blind my mom had crafted was arranged around us. I was doing my dead level best to be both still and quiet.

The blind consisted of long dowels sharpened on one end and sewn into a large sheet of camouflage cloth. Dad pushed the pointed ends into the soft dirt so the bottom of the material stood a few inches above the surrounding forest floor. I was amusing myself studying the multitudinous insects crawling about beneath the edge of the blind when a turkey foot appeared unexpectedly in the little open space just adjacent my leg.