S'coot is the name for my pet Coots, here on Lake Claiborne. They are mesmerizing as their movements become more and more predictable over time. Their favorite fishing spot happens to be under The Watson Retreat's pier and boathouse. They begin and end every day here, and if there's a storm or a lot of Eagles out prowling around, they'll come home to hide under the boathouse for their protection. If you haven't figured it out already, they're called S'coots because everyone else will say, "There are Su's Coots," but if you say it slow, and with a Louisiana drawl, It is, "Lookee there. There's S'coots. Bless their little hearts, I'm afraid one was just eaten by that big bird, beyond those trees there!"
I heard recently the S'coots were the most honored animal of the Fa'cow'ee people of Claiborne Parish. The legend of The Fa'cow'ees has linked S'coots in their hieroglyphic art work. The young Fa'cow'ee boys and girls saw them and screamed, "Is it a bird? Is it a duck?" The wise old doctor (who could see into the future), said, "No, it's S'coots." The wise doctor taught the young children to pay attention to the S'coots because they would always warn them about impending danger. "As the S'coots move back under the boat house, the fierce black Fa'cow'ee German Shepherd will growl fiercely and chase the great big bird with a white head, far, far away." This relieved the young children. The wise doctor went on to say, "the best time to fish with their spears, along the shoreline, is when the S'coots gather among the great white Pelicans in the middle of the lake." The wise doctor warned them not to wander too far from camp, since their people had a terrible sense of direction (please read "Unfiltered" by Doug Folts in 2013, where the original Fa'cow'ee legend is well documented).
The hieroglyphic is difficult to interpret at this point, but it seems as though the wise doctor began to weep, wail and dance around the fire like a S'coot moves through water. It's really quite a beautiful dance, indeed. He appears to be singing out, "Where the fa'co'wee?" (Folts, 2013)
I feel so honored to be part of the long, colorful history of Claiborne Parish, and as such, I have joined the Board of Directors at the Ford Museum, in Homer. I am trying to decide what things to include in an exhibit there, since they will clearly have to make room for the Legend of the Fa'cow'ee people and the impact of the legendary S'coot on their survival.
Speaking of survival....there are 31 more days until I check in at the Mayo Clinic in Rochestor, Minnesota. I have been fairly fragile since my hospitalization in early January. The rheumatologist was concerned about some symptoms that I had ignored for some time, so he got me an appointment with the cardiologist: lickity split. The cardiologist was nice enough to not over-react and seemed impressed with my pharmaceutical knowledge-base. I described how my medication addresses the pressure around my brain and how it caused dehydration. Therefore, most of the symptoms that alarmed the rheumatologist could be easily attributed to side-effects. He also seemed knowledgable about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (I definitely have this super special congenital birth defect. I was tested for that via biopsy when I was 12 years old. It's a genetic flaw in my collagen.), so as a pre-caution, he started me on a beta-blocker that will help protect my heart muscles from becoming weak as the collagen begins to loosen up the arteries around my heart as I age. He also ordered a heart ultra-sound since my mom cursed me by having a heart attack at such a young age. Man, my gene pool is Very, Very, rotten regarding health risk factors. I have Kelly to thank for those all too frequent: colonoscopies. Why is he such a hero, again? Oh, that's right...Cancer Survival Boy Wonder. I remember. Go get 'em Kel.
So after two days of a hellish headache that nearly landed me back in the hospital, I woke up this morning praising God: as there appears to be a reprieve of some kind. I woke David and told him I was not hurting and planned to not move, so I could rejoice in this God-given moment. I immediately described the Legend of the S'coot; so he grabbed my computer for me. He was definitely as happy as me. I say "was" because, he IS sound asleep and dreaming about wooden ladders that are clearly not as maneuverable as aluminum. He is apparently quite frustrated with the maker of this wooden ladder. My best guess is that he watched a little too much "Shark Tank" last night. I'll be sure and limit that in the future.
Peace and Love,