Pierre’s Fourth of July

                On the 4th of July, Pierre went to the Dingle's on Flag Island for steaks. I, Eaglewatcher, watched from a nearby Canadian island with a telescope. I had been at other Dingle 4th of July celebrations and had seen Jim's fireworks displays after dark.  Canada was as close as I now dared to approach. Pierre is on his own on the 4th of July when he is around Jim Dingle. That kind of hazardous duty is not in my job description.

 It is difficult to pick the one event that caused Pierre to dread the Dingle fireworks display.  There were so many to choose from.  However, if he was forced to pick, it would be in infamous rocket launch of ’93, the last year Jim launched the rockets with his hand.   Jim was standing on the middle of the end of his dock with a lit bottleless, bottle rocket in his hand.  Pierre and I were standing on the same dock beside each other twenty feet behind Jim.  His daughter Annie was in the yard near the house holding the leashes of two labs that were trying to get into the basement.  When Jim made a quick back swing before launching the rocket over the water, the little stick attached to the rocket broke.  Instead of shooting forward over the lake, the rocket went roaring back over the dock.  It whistled between Pierre and my heads and crashed and burned with a shower of sparks at Annie’s feet near the house.  The dogs broke free, forgot about the basement, and headed for the back forty.  Annie yelled, “Daaaaaaaaad, don’t do thaaaaaaaaat.”

                We all learned a lesson.  Jim always used a bottle after that.  Pierre always made sure there were a few empty ones for him to use.  I stayed in Canada.

                  The 4^th of July meal of 2000 looked great.  I noted from a distance that Pierre took one beer over his normal limit to calm himself down for the fireworks display. Pierre has a weakened heart, and a Dingle rocket launch display is more excitement for Pierre than a night at the Classy Lumberjack in Duluth.

                 I knew the fireworks program was about to start when the three Dingle black labs headed for cover in the basement. They don't follow many command words, but the word "fireworks" has been passed down from generation to generation. The dogs that still live in the Dingle home prove Darwin's theory of survival of the fittest.

                Pierre didn't see the first rocket after a split-second because he was cowering against the wall of the house. The second story balcony of the house blocked his vision as the rocket shot by it. The next shot from the Dingle first floor deck nearly took out a hummingbird that was hovering near the feeder. That particular hummingbird probably needed an attitude adjustment anyway.  He had been

battling another hummer over rights to a red feeder hanging from the bottom of the second story balcony.

The bully bird probably thought the enemy bird was dropping the big one when the rocket shot between his beak and the feeder. The bully was never seen again.

                 Then Jim read the directions on the package out loud. "Don't light this rocket within 500 yards of a house." That added to the excitement and tension as he put a match to the fuse. That rocket didn't shoot off the deck, but fell over pointing right toward Helen.  It stayed on the bird seed feeder launching pad and used up its power on the pad instead of shooting into Helen and driving her through the window of her house and setting the house on fire. But maybe Helen would have died the fire out with her blood. She is always coming to Jim's rescue like that.

                 Next came a series of rockets that went off one after another seconds apart into the birch trees in the front yard. A few rockets made it through the branches, but some hit the trees and bounced in new directions. That was an interesting concept. One does not see that at a regular fireworks display. The few armyworms left on those birches are probably still crawling in the same direction as that bully hummingbird is flying.

                Then God sent relief as He does nearly every Fourth of July. It started to lightening and storm. Pierre had a perfect excuse. He yelled so loud I could hear him from the next island, “I have to go home right now.   I have a little laundry on the line!”               

 It was not a lie. Pierre always has some clothes hanging on the line for occasions like this.  Quickly Pierre got into his boat and prayed it would start.  It did.  Then he moved quickly away from the dock keeping his eye on the rocket that Jim was now aiming over Pierre's boat from the end of the dock.

 I then yelled to remind Pierre to pick me up from my Canadian island bunker. The yell was a blessing.  It saved Pierre's boat from hitting the huge rock in front of the Dingle home. The fallout from the rocket also missed him.

                After thanking me for the yell that keep him for missing the rock, Pierre told me that he thought it was much safer to boat home in a lightening storm than to be around Jim when he is shooting fire works. I assured him it would be safer to swim home.  The lightening strikes all around the speeding boat were nothing in comparison to the trauma Pierre had been through on Flag Island.