pheasant Archives

“Clocks slay time… time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.” – William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

King Road

Coffee in one hand, I abruptly turned off the county highway with the other. A road sign I’d never noticed before – King Rd. It was a 90 degree turn off of the busy county highway. A forgotten ribbon of worn out asphalt that disappeared into the countryside, barely wide enough for two cars to pass. Spring grasses already encroaching over the non-existent berm. No structure in site. I had no reason to turn, and every reason not to. But I did. I couldn’t resist the contrast between such a lofty named road pointing down such a humble path.

My children used to call these sudden detours, Big Daddy Short Cuts, a name both affectionate and exasperated. They knew the moment we suddenly veered off the logical route, our planned journey, as well as the ETA, just exited the window along with their father’s regard for time. It never bothered me. These wild-haired excursions almost always paid off with interest and excitement.

The King of King Road

Not even a mile in, I saw him.

At first, just the brilliant red crown and bronze breast plate above the grass. I stopped, quietly, and reached for my camera. Adjusted the settings. And waited. The Ring-necked Pheasant – bold, deliberated – as if I posed no threat to his royal highness, stepped out into the open like he ruled the ditch, the fields, and the road beyond. His feathered robe and train shimmered with every color of the morning sun. He paused for a moment, giving me permission to admire his brilliance.

I pressed the shutter.

And for that moment, time stopped. The little wheels stopped clicking. Not frozen, but alive – breathing, waiting, witnessing, sharing.

Big Daddy Short Cuts

This is why I take my short cuts. This is why I believe life is more important than time. It is the things not scheduled or promised or even deserved that is discovered when we yield to the out-of-place road sign that leans a little in the wind. Because somewhere out there is something amazing I wouldn’t have experienced if I’d kept to the fast lane. Something wild, something regal.

Something like the King of King Road.