Volume 36 - Tuesday, February 21st, 2023
The Nighthawk is now has a podcast companion!
Check it out here if you’d prefer it read aloud to you.
Charlie
The Cows are Home
“Charlie! Hey Charlie!” Jimmy parked his red truck by the gate, and hopped out with two bottles of milk. Charlie the Holstein calf was nowhere to be seen. I wandered over to watch. Jimmy’s a neighbor, feeding the animals while the farmer neighbor is away on a trip. I followed him into the field in search of the cows. Well, this is novel. Charlie’s black and white splotches glowed against the monotone Angus cows - his adopted family. Then he saw us. FOOD! He started to gallop right at me. Uhh..what’s that thing bullfighters do? I stepped to the side, holding the bottle next to me. He drained it in a hurry, finished a second...and suspected us of holding back, following us, blocking us, gently headbutting us, looking for more. “It’s all gone, Charlie. Jimmy, a little help?” We made it out, with a few laughs, too. Who knew cows were like huge dogs?
Reader Spotlight:
Jim K. is a retired police officer, and roots for the Green Bay Packers. He lives in Odenton, MD.
Father of the Symphony
Franz Joseph Haydn
Born the same year as George Washington, Haydn moved music into the classical era - and even tutored Beethoven. Check out Symphony #101 “The Clock.”
Peep!
Have you heard the Spring Peepers
yet? They’ve been calling the ladies every night for a week. “What’s a nice frog like YOU doing in a pond like THIS?”
Happy Birthday, George Washington!
(2/22/1732 - Westmoreland county, VA)
Our first president was fond of dispensing advice via letter. We’re proud to carry on. :)
Down the Rabbit Hole
Are you a writer? Ever tried? Today’s a great day to start. From a personal journal to publishing a memoir, there are plenty of formats. For starters, check out “how to start a blog.” A blog (short for “web log”) is a fun way to share your thoughts and stories.
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #122)
Howdy, folks! Previously on Dr. Electro: The good guys follow the Buckle Bunny Gang through a junkyard maze. Electro musters his courage, and mentions to the femme fatale Charlotte that he thinks they’re being followed. They are, and make a mad dash for a beacon in the night: Miss Stella’s Palm Reading. Back East, Lady Wilkes rushes upstairs to find an empty room, broken glass, and a mysterious message on the wall. DIRM? John is rattled. This is…
The Return of Dr. Electro - #16: N.O.
“DIRM? What the devil does that mean?” Lady Wilkes suddenly realized she had a broken window, graffiti on the wall, two trespassers in custody, a niece that seemed to know one of them a bit too well, and her stolen gem was still missing. Her patience was running out.
John cleared his through. “The Nihilist Order - N.O. for short, lassie. I used to be a member in Dublin. Didn’t realize they made it to America. They don’t believe in anything - except money. Their founder was a twisted young man who got mixed up in the Irish Marxists - they thought that Leprechauns were the origin of the capitalist rot and the worker shouldn’t have to be whim to three wishes and tricks and - OW!” Lady Wilkes’ slap brought him back to the point.
“ The N.O. motto is DIRM - Does It Really Matter? Oh, the wanton destruction they’ve caused with this worldview. Of course, it could be traced back to a misinterpretation of the Greco-Roman stoics...” A look from Lady Wilkes cut his philosophizing short. “I believe The Nihilist Order is our international enemy. Perhaps they stole your gem.”
***
Miss Stella’s Palm Reading - Fortunes Told. Electro suddenly found himself interested in all things astrological - or at least, wishing for a palm left to read. Light spilled out of an open door onto a rickety porch. He followed the gang inside at a run, half diving to the floor. The oriental bells jangled behind him. Incense burned his eyes. Something - or someone - thudded against the bolted door behind him. Safe. He looked up. A man with a perfectly curled mustache looked back. “Mercury’s in retrograde, you know.” Electro rubbed his eyes.
“Welcome, welcome.” Mr. Mustache chuckled. “I’m Art...the neighborhood watch, and astrology department of this fine establishment. Sounds like there’s a bit of trouble on Earth.”
Art turned quickly, and vanished through a beaded curtain. “Miss Stella, they’re early. They look hungry. I’m off to deal with the unwanted guests. Saturn must be in Pisces.”
Electro eyed the coral pink walls. Where was everyone? “Hello?”
“Oh, they do sound like a piece of work, dearies. That’s what men are like, though.”
A new voice approached down the hall. “In all my years fortune telling...”
...To be continued next week...
(Don’t forget the podcast!)
And hey, give this a share on your socials if you’re so inclined. Let’s get The Nighthawk to a wide audience. Thank YOU for reading!
Josh