stories of growing up in Kern County circa 1970
The Onyx Boys – “Christmas Break”
Every year Burt and I looked forward to our Christmas vacation. While most kids looked forward to presents, family, games, and special dinners, the only visions dancing around in our heads were those of hunting and playing pool.
Our number one goal was to bag a fat Canadian Honker for Christmas dinner. We had scouted out a good number of birds over the past few weeks and the eastern end where the South Fork of the Kern emptied into the lake seemed to be the best bet. So Burt and I made plans to be in position when the sun came up on the first day of Christmas break.
Funny thing about plans. They change all the time.
I walked over to Burt’s at our agreed upon time – 4:45am – but was shocked to find an empty Rambler. I put my vest, gun and canteen under the tarp in the back and climbed in to wait for Burt. I was elated to be there first for a change. However, when 5am and then 5:15am came and went, I knew something was wrong.
I was just opening the screen door to knock when Burt appeared. He was in his pj’s and slippers. One look told me all I needed to know. He looked awful.
“I’m sick. I have been throwing up all night. I can’t go hunting today. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. We have all vacation to go. But since I’m up, I think I will sneak over to the river and see if I can find some ducks,” I answered.
“Good luck,” Burt replied as he disappeared back into his trailer.
I grabbed my gear and headed out the driveway. Upon reaching the river, I turned west, downriver, wanting to check out a deep pool at the bottom of a steep bluff. Burt and I had jumped a few mallards there before. It was about a ten minute walk which normally wouldn’t be too bad. I say normally, because it had begun to rain – a cold, freezing rain. Since I was walking straight into the wind, I was soon soaked and miserable.
At the bluff, I was greeted by the sound of ducks squawking at each other. My plan was to make my way quietly to the edge of the bluff, rise up and shoot in order to surprise my quarry.
But as I said before, funny thing about plans…
As I rose and brought my gun up, the edge of the bluff broke away under my feet. Instinctively, I put my gun on safety and tossed it towards a large sage bush. Then I proceeded to tumble head over heels towards the deep pool below.
As luck would have it, my somersaults were such that my head and shoulders made contact with the water first. Think of a belly flop only switch it to a face flop. Pow! The sting turned into shock as I went completely under the ice, cold water.
If you’ve ever accidentally, or deliberately, gone into water that cold, you know how it knocks the breath right out of you. Gasping for air, I managed to pull myself out of the water about twenty yards downriver. There I lay – fighting for breath with freezing cold rain pounding me in the face. I don’t know how long I laid there but eventually I crawled back up the bluff to find my gun. Luckily, it had landed in the bush and hadn’t ended up in the bottom of the pool.
I was freezing. Literally. My clothes were starting to turn to ice. I headed home in a stiff-legged jog.
Twenty minutes later as I approached our trailers, I noticed smoke coming from the chimney of Burt’s garage. I knew he’d be in there, playing pool in front of his pot-bellied stove. It would be warm!
I was greeted by Burt’s butt pointed at me as he lined up a shot at the pool table. Without turning around he said, ” You fell in, didn’t you? You’re back way too soon.” I just stood there shivering.
After sinking the ball, he turned, took one look at me and said, “Be right back.”
He came back with warm, dry clothes saying, “Here, put these on.”
I dressed quickly and, of course, he wanted to hear all about my solo adventure.
“I would’ve fallen in with you,” he said laughing as he handed me a pool cue. “You can break first.”
Suddenly the door swung open and his mom appeared carrying a big tray.
“Burt said you went swimming so I made you boys some chili and grilled cheese sandwiches. There’s also chips and a Dr. Pepper for each of you. Merry Christmas!” she winked as she closed the door.
(This story first appeared in the January 2019 issue of The Cub – Bear Valley Springs, California’s newspaper. It was printed again in February 2019 in Caliente, California’s Country Reader, The Fence Post.)
Cliff Wiggins 