Gopher Season

The schoolyard is filled with them; gopher hunters.

Their tanned hands, nails bitten and dirty, clutch precious bits of bailing twine they’ve looped into a noose-like thing. Legs coiled like springs, they crouch beside dirt mounds, the loop of their ‘snare’ arranged around the hole, just so. The sun warms their shoulders and the brown grass breaks beneath their feet when they shift, but they wait, as still as they can (though less than they imagine).

Each knows that if they stay long enough, quietly enough, they’ll see a head pop out of the hole, and if they are fast enough, they’ll catch it. They know it as sure as they know the old Hayward place is haunted and Santa Claus is real.

When the recess bell summons them back indoors they walk with heavy feet but light hearts. They’ll get it next time.

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When she’s not procrastinating or gaming, Rhonda Parrish writes. She also maintains a website at http://www.rhondaparrish.com and loves sushi.

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