Chapter 56

It was late when David and his crew arrived at the Whites’ hunting camp. Diana, Scarlet’s mom, greeted them and assigned everyone their cabins. David was put in the bunkhouse where the little ones were all staying. It was a large room with bunk beds and a small separate room with a queen-sized bed that David claimed.

Before lying down for some much-needed sleep, he slipped in to check on his and Greg’s kids. They were all asleep except for Dave, who was whimpering. David squatted beside his bed and whispered, “What’s the matter, buddy?”

Dave wouldn’t look him in the eye, which meant it was serious. David discovered that Dave had wet the bed.

“Help me get this all cleaned up, and then you can sleep with me,” David promised.

Dave hopped out of bed and helped his dad wash him up and get dressed in clean pajamas. They then stripped the bed. David figured this must have to do with Dave’s mom not taking him to meet his future stepdad’s family since it had been over a year since he’d had an accident like this.

Once they climbed into David’s bed, he said, “Here’s the deal. You have to promise not to wet my bed.”

Dave giggled, which got David to laugh as well. David tried his best to take his son’s mind off whatever bothered him. Their conversation bounced from topic to topic, like Tigger on meth, and was accompanied by a lot of laughter.

It wasn’t long before Carol stuck her head in the door and saw her dad. She ran to him to get some love. Pretty soon, the rest of the horde was all in David’s bed, being little giggle boxes and resembling a pile of puppies.

At some point, everyone wound down and fell asleep.

David woke when he heard a camera snap. He saw Scarlet, Ashley, and Pam all looking down at him and his kids crammed onto his bed.

“Up and at ‘em,” Scarlet announced to wake everyone.

He was grateful when the baby mamas took charge of getting the kids showered and dressed for the day.

David found everyone in the camp’s dining hall. It was a large room paneled with cedar boards and had a vaulted roof with the trusses exposed. It resembled a log cabin made with six-by-six lumber instead of logs. Lights and fans hung from the ceiling while tables that sat six were placed along the walls. In the center of the room were large round tables that each sat nine.

At the far end was an open kitchen with a buffet between the seating and cooks. David checked the food and found buttermilk biscuits, red-eye gravy, scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, grits, fried potatoes, and French toast. He put a little of everything on his plate, minus the French toast, because he was watching his figure.

His mom motioned for him to join her when he got out of line. She’d claimed an empty table and was drinking coffee.

“Hurry up and eat. You have to get to the church for practice,” Carol said as he sat down.

“Practice?”

“You’re joining the Dawson Chorus at the Christmas Eve youth service.”

“Dawson Chorus?”

She looked playful as she responded. “Scarlet’s family is musical, and she promised the youth pastor that the moms, the kids, and you would sing at the early service tomorrow night. They’ve been practicing their song since they got here. I’m told they sound pretty good.”

“Anything else I should know?” David asked.

“The day after Christmas, you get to go blackbird hunting.”

He tilted his head in confusion, so his mom waved over Wyatt, Scarlet’s father and owner of the camp.

“Tell David about the blackbird hunt.”

Wyatt nodded and got serious. “We hunt blackbirds and crows for two reasons. The first is they feed in large flocks that cause considerable damage to our corn and sunflower fields. They also wipe out the strawberries in the spring.

“That I can live with. But their aggressive behavior toward other birds makes them a menace to someone like me. We raise quail, ducks, and pheasants for hunting. They’ve killed over half our hatchlings over the past two years.

David hadn’t realized that blackbirds were such a problem. He remembered Uncle John complaining about them on his farm but never realized how much damage they caused. Wyatt interrupted his thoughts as he continued.

“In the 1940s, a biological survey was conducted that clearly identified the damage crows cause to waterfowl in their Canadian breeding grounds, what they call the ‘Duck Factory.’ The survey showed that crows in close proximity to duck nesting areas took an average of 110 to 120 eggs or fledglings per crow per year, approximately twenty million ducks. During the same year, sportsmen only took eleven million.

“All that being said, if their population is controlled, they are an important contributor to our ecosystem,” Wyatt said.

Then David had a thought.

“Is it even legal to hunt them in Alabama?” he asked.

Wyatt scoffed. “It’s my land, and I’m simply shooting vermin, as far as I’m concerned. You don’t need a license to shoot rats, now, do you?”

“I guess not,” David said, asking, “How do you hunt them?”

“Blackbirds and crows are territorial. They won’t stand for another flock to enter their territory. All we have to do is put some decoys in a patch where we planted sunflowers. We use an e-caller to make it sound like the decoys are on the ground eating. The local birds will come looking for a fight.

“But they’re smart about it. The older birds will go up high and circle the area, watching for trouble, while the younger ones rush in. We have blinds to hide in until they’re in range.

“It’s easier than hunting ducks because there are so many of them. Any rookie can take out several birds with a single shotgun blast. It also gives our bird dogs practice retrieving. It makes for a glorious morning of hunting,” Wyatt promised with a smile.

“I’m in as long as it doesn’t interfere with my flight to USC’s bowl game.”

“We’ll be done by nine in the morning. You’ll have plenty of time,” Wyatt promised.

“Then I’m in.”

Wyatt slapped him on the shoulder as he got up to refill his coffee.

“Welcome to Alabama,” Carol said under her breath, which caused them both to quietly chuckle.

He certainly wasn’t in LA anymore.

They went to the Whites’ church. The small building looked as if it were a hundred years old. A sign out in front of the Baptist church said, ’We can smell the eggnog on your breath. Don’t make a scene.’

“What’s that all about?” David asked Scarlet.

“You don’t even want to know.”

The church’s interior looked like everything was original, including the pews. It was an old clapboard structure that needed a fresh coat of paint. The floors and benches were made of pine, but someone had polished them within an inch of their lives. It might be old, but they cared enough to have the place clean.

The kids all knew where to go, so they led the way. They met a tall, lanky young man at the altar, polishing it.

“Pastor Zac!” “Pastor Zac!” the children excitedly called out.

“You ready to sing for me today?” Zachariah Randolph, the youth pastor, asked.

“Nate’s nervous,” Kyle shared about his younger brother.

David had been told his youngest nephew had been given the vocal lead. Scarlet said he sounded like a little angel.

“He should be fine since his uncle’s with him today,” David commented.

“That’s Uncle David,” Kyle said.

David shook the youth pastor’s hand as Scarlet, Pam, and Ashley organized everyone. While they did that, it gave Zac and David a chance to get acquainted.

“This church looks like it has been here forever,” David commented.

“There was a time here in Alabama when people’s lives were taken up on Sundays with church and then lunch before watching football. Things have changed over the last twenty years.”

“How so?” David asked.

“I grew up in the woods behind the church. When I was a kid, I’d walk over anytime the doors were open. Back then, we had nearly 200 people attend, filling this place to capacity. Some of my best memories were of the meals after the service. The local women cooked the best food, making it one of the fondest memories of my youth. Now, more people are in the cemetery than the church, except for Easter and Christmas.

“We’ve always been an old-school church. Church members are steeped in the Bible and mostly follow its moral principles. We live a quiet life of faith and lead by example. We’re not one of those churches that wear their religion on their sleeve or try to force it into anyone’s face.

“I was excited when Scarlet told me you’d sing with your children. Word has gotten out, and we expect a full house for the youth service tonight,” Zac said.

They planned two services on Christmas Eve. The early one was geared toward kids, with a lot of music and singing. The traditional service would occur later.

“Will there be a meal after the service?” David asked.

“Wyatt’s roasting a hog, which will be served between services. We’d be blessed if your family would join us. Many of the locals would love to get to meet you,” Zac said.

“I love a good hog roast. We’ll be there,” David promised.

Zac looked excited. David had no doubt Zac would get the call tree started to let everyone know David would also attend the meal.

“The Methodists will wonder where everyone went,” Zac said with evident glee.

It was obvious that the two churches had a friendly competition going on for the number of butts in the pews, and Zac planned to win it this Christmas.

Ashley’s parents arrived and settled in for the holiday. Just as their daughter predicted, they wanted to take advantage of the chance to see Allen and Dawson. Well, Hiram may have been attracted a bit by the hunting camp, but he was careful not to admit that. In any case, Ashley and her boys were happy they were there.