Granddad’s Pheasant

By R.M. Hamilton

 Grandma has always loved thrift stores. And I’m bound to say, I understand why. You never know what you’ll find propped up in the corner of a thrift store. This sense of mystery is enhanced by our family belief that a thrift store is a pretty good portal for miracles.

One day, about twenty years ago, as Grandma pottered about in her favourite second-hand shop, Junk & Disorderly, she spied a large, stuffed pheasant. He was a handsome creature, nicely displayed on  a polished slab of wood and Grandma felt drawn to the bird. When she found out that he was going for the incredibly affordable price of $2.50, attraction blossomed into commitment and Grandma coughed up the necessary funds. “It’ll make a nice little surprise for Arthur,” she told the owner.

It's hard to say why Grandma thought it would make a nice little surprise for Granddad. Granddad had never expressed any interest in stuffed birds whatsoever. All the same, it must be admitted Grandma had a novel way of knowing what Granddad would like. Her skill for picking out library books for him was the stuff of family legends.

“I just breeze in,” explained Grandma. “Then I walk around the whole library, randomly taking books off the shelves. When I come to a book that looks so ghastly and boring, I think of all the books in the world, that’s the last book I’d ever want to read, I check it out for him.”

And I don’t want anyone thinking that is Grandma being sardonic and mean spirited either. Without fail, when Grandma hands Granddad what she has deemed ‘the most ghastly, boring book in the whole world’ his eyes light up. “Oh this looks VERY good, Shirley!”

“I thought you’d like it,” Grandma admits, smug that yet again, her system has hit a bull’s eye.

But today, as Grandma stomped home with Mr Pheasant under her arm, she was less sure. Arthur had never mentioned stuffed birds before. Come to think of it, he’d never even looked at stuffed birds. Really-thought Grandma-I think I’ve done my dough. A whole $2.50 on something he won’t even like. The thought that she might have thrown away money, even $2.50, made her Scottish extracted blood churn with anxiety.

By the time she got home, she was certain it was a very silly thing to have brought indeed. “I got you a little present at Junk & Disorderly, dear,” she said to Granddad, plonking the bird down in front of him.

 Granddad stared at the bird.

Granddad stared at the bird and said nothing.

Granddad stared so long and so silently at the bird that Grandma felt certain all her worst fears were realized.

“It’s a bit of a joke, dear,” said Grandma. “Do you really hate it that much?”

Granddad started. “It’s not that,” he said. “Years and years ago, when I was still a boy, I asked God for a stuffed bird. I thought he might send me a sparrow, but a WHOLE PHEASANT?!” He returned to his silent staring.

“Well, that must have been over fifty years ago!” calculated Grandma.

“At LEAST,” agreed Granddad.

“It just shows, doesn’t it?” said Grandma.

“Yes,” said Granddad.

“God’s answer often comes later than we wanted,” mused Grandma.

“But when it does come,” finished Granddad, “it’s always bigger than we expected.”