Old Jack's Dream (For a Wildlife Sanctuary)
DESCRIPTION
Old Jack came alive in a storytelling and art workshop my sister
Doreyl and I conducted in 1998 at Anson County Middle School in
Wadesboro, North Carolina. The program was presented through the
endeavors of the H.E.A.L. (History, Environment, Arts, Literature)
organization and funded by a grant from the North Carolina Arts
Council and the Anson County Arts Council. In Phase One,
Doreyl and I were to work with the after school children to write a
play reflecting the goals of the program to include history,
environment, arts and literature of the area. Before we arrived, we
had spent time studying the area so we had some idea of what the
students would suggest as a theme. Upon arriving in the
classroom, we began by doing a short presentation of our
storytelling, with Doreyl spontaneously illustrating the story as I
told it. The students learned later what they actually witnessed
was the “left brain” telling the story, while the “right brain”
brought the story alive on the easel: a complete communication
demonstration. Each class consisted of an hour which had to
be productive, for we had only one week to produce a play. The
first class came up with the theme: the true story of Lockhart
Gaddy of Ansonville and his transformation from predator to
protector of thousands of magnificent Canadian Geese. Caddy’s
efforts in protecting the geese led to the establishment of the Pee
Dee National Wildlife Refuge. Once we had what the story would be
about, we needed a protagonist who would tell the story in a
different way. So, Old Jack, the gander, was born by the
students.
I never forgot that week and am so grateful for those teenagers and
the creative time we had together. A few months ago, the memory of
“Old Jack’s Dream” began to tug at my heart, and so I began to
write a new version of the story. One line led to another, spilling
out in rhyme. It gives me great pleasure to share that long ago
creative time with you, the reader, as the book also introduces a
new illustrator, our cousin, Sharon Blaine Turner.
EXCERPT
It was in the month October in the full of the moon
The migrating Canadian geese would return soon
All around the marsh of the river bottom land
Autumn had visited with the sweep of her hand
Vivid leaves were falling over water and stones
Leaving some tree branches bare like skint bones
The leaves rippled the water, each dancing alone
Circling, twirling, singing its own song
On the bank of the river was a freshwater pond
With trees hugging the river bottom and beyond
A flock of wild geese swam on the river nearby
Their wings had been clipped so they couldn’t fly
Old Jack, the leader, had a scissor-like beak
His long neck was black with a white streak
A fluffy white chest pooched out and proud
A cackle here, a honk there, sometimes loud
An oval grey body and dark pea eyes
He had enough character to match his size
Feathery, soft, gentle, Old Jack led well
And deep down he had his own story to tell
Always beside Old Jack was his life-long mate
His companion, Jill; the lady was first-rate
Shaped like Old Jack, she was not as dark
A gray patch on her chest was the lady’s mark
Around her long neck were two white rings
Laying flat on her body were just perfect wings
Side by side, wandering over river and hill
They were a loving couple, Old Jack and Jill
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