the bird on fire

The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans

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Living Like Raccoons

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PVS alumnus Peter Kadel (‘18) now attends Virginia Tech. When here, he was a beloved blogger and, among other things, an AP English Language student. In AP Lang, Peter [was forced to] read Annie Dillard’s essay “Living Like Weasels.” An excerpt of Dillard’s essay is reprinted below. Peter reached out to us–seems he had a “weasel” moment while walking to his dining hall. Happily, he thought of us and captured it in writing.


“Living Like Weasels”

by Annie Dillard

The sun had just set. I was relaxed on the tree trunk, ensconced in the lap of lichen, watching the lily pads at my feet tremble and part dreamily over the thrusting path of a carp. A yellow bird appeared to my right and flew behind me. It caught my eye; I swiveled around–and the next instant, inexplicably, I was looking down at a weasel, who was looking up at me.

Weasel! I’d never seen one wild before. He was ten inches long, thin as a curve, a muscled ribbon, brown as fruitwood, soft-furred, alert. . . .

The weasel was stunned into stillness as he was emerging from beneath an enormous shaggy wild rose bush four feet away. I was stunned into stillness twisted backward on the tree trunk. Our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key.

Peter’s Weasel Moment . . .

Annie Dillard’s essay “Living Like Weasels” describes a moment when she made eye contact and had a connection with a weasel. I had dismissed this as odd like I had done with every other thing she wrote. But, I was walking to a dining hall from class and heard a rustling noise from an underground drainage grate, not in much of a hurry, I went over to investigate. As I stood over the grate, the source of the rustling scurried into the underground pipe, seemingly gone forever. But something made me decide to crouch above the grate and wait for the critter to show itself. Seconds later, as if it shared my curiosity, a little triangular head with black and white stripes on the face and grey on the head peeked out from the pipe. The triangular head turned to look up at me, and I found myself eyes locked with a raccoon. I was surprised and enthralled by this little creature. For a few moments we just stared at each other. Then he darted off to continue about his day, and I stood up and went on my way. It wasn’t till later I realized I HAD JUST HAD MY WEASEL MOMENT! But instead of a weasel, it was a raccoon. Now I realize the importance of Dillard’s piece; we all have the chance to experience that moment. And the animal we have it with reflects us. Dillard got the tenacious, scrappy and clever weasel. I got the mischievous, rambunctious, and curious raccoon, a pretty accurate reflection of myself. –Peter Kadel

Juxtaposition

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By Peter Kadel

He stood before me, looking as he looked every day–rugged, a man of the forest, bearded and burly. He and his possessions were not gilded or lavish but utilitarian and plain. He and everything he owned had a purpose that they fulfilled adequately. None of his features or possessions were extraordinary in any way, with one exception–the pen. He always carried an ornately decorated fountain pen. I never found out where he got it or how he was ever able to afford such a gilded masterpiece. But, he had it with him always, a special pocket on his rucksack held the treasure so it was safe yet easy to reach. The body of the pen was made from a piece of obsidian as black as a moonless night with gold inlay and a golden nib. I was always surprised when I saw him holding the black treasure. It was a diamond in the rough of his demeanor. His worn and weathered hands worried the smooth glasslike surface. I never saw him use it, but the pen was always there.

He would never part with it: when the drought hit and we were starving and thirsty, he kept it. When the common folks were prohibited from reading and writing, he kept it. When a group of bandits took my sister and demanded our valuables, he kept it. When rumors spread of a wealthy collector offering a large sum for old writing implements, he kept it. When he was given a choice between the pen and his life….

It was just a pen, not a long lost relic, not a family treasure passed down for generations, not a holy artifact coveted by all. I’ll never understand why he cared about that thing so much. When I asked him why it was worth more than a human life, he said, “I carry these tools all over these here mountains, and I use them to create things so I can survive. But this pen won’t help me survive. If I were to use this pen to create something, that something lasts beyond me.”

So there it was, greed and vanity. Or maybe not. When he lay dying in a pool of his own failings, he handed the pen to me.

Editor: Claire Jenkins

Pop

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By Peter Kadel

 

Pop.

Formerly of snap, crackle, and

Pop.

The prequel to lock it.

Pop.

Previously associated with soda.

Since divorced.

But some say they are still together.

Pop.

Once conjoined with over.

Pop.

Had a brief affair with corn.

Pop.

Used to go with weasel.

Pop.

Once involved with up.

Pop.

In the business of ads.

Pop.

Editor: AJ Patencio

Is Far Cry 5 a “5 out of 5”?

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By Peter Kadel

Far Cry 5 is the latest installment of the Far Cry published by Ubisoft and developed by Ubisoft. The game takes place in the fictional Hope County in Montana. This is the first game of the series to take place in the United States. Many of the jokes and quests are more relatable and the characters seem to be more relatable and more farcical at the same time. As a sequel, the game stays close to the core concept of Far Cry: Lots of weapons, outlandish and wacky side characters, maniacal and oddly charismatic villains, and an expansive open world. But, it also mixes it up with a plethora of new minor features that give the game a fresh feeling for the first couple hours of gameplay. The gameplay itself is pretty standard for a Far Cry game. The main villain(s) is/are the Seed family and their radical evangelical cult, The Project at Eden’s Gate, who have taken over Hope County, Montana, and are capturing, brainwashing, torturing the people of Hope County. The main leader of the cult is Joseph Seed who oversees the entire cult with support from his three siblings: Jacob Seed, a cruel and merciless warrior who believes in culling the weak; John Seed, a charismatic man who forces people to confess their “sins” and submit to the cult; and Faith Seed, a sort of enchantress who uses a hallucinogenic drug to control and manipulate her enemies and turn some cultists into drug-fueled berserkers. Each member of the Seed family controls a region, and players have to defeat the three lieutenants and liberate their region before getting to the leader Joseph.

 

The main story of the game is entertaining at parts, but as a whole it is disorganized and lacks a compelling reason to follow the main quest. In all honesty, I only completed the main questline because the side quests were even more one dimensional and linear, with one exception–the Clutch Nixon Stunt missions, which are a series of time limited vehicular feats which you must recreate. The quests themselves don’t have a compelling backstory, but they unlock a series of star-spangled vehicles that are really fun to drive/fly around. But, in general, the game fails to provide a compelling reason to complete missions other than “do this to get some cool stuff” or “because an NPC [Non-Player Character] said so.”

 

That being said, the game is entertaining and provides an enjoyable experience in many parts. New vehicles such as planes, helicopters, and semi trucks offer more options in terms of gameplay and how to overcome certain challenges and obstacles such as enemy strongholds and convoys. The game also includes a new type of weapon–melee weapons. These give the player more stealth options in terms of combat.

 

SO! Overall the verdict is: Far Cry 5 is an entertaining game and provides a good gaming experience, but it isn’t worth the 60 dollars needed to pay for it, so if you would like to purchase it, I suggest waiting until it is cheaper.

 

Editor: Bella Bier

The wolf and the sheep dog

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By Poet-Blogger Peter Kadel

 

Sheepdog: Young wolf, oh young wolf, you have a whole life in front of you,

the potential to defy expectations or the potential to meet them–to become a villain.

You and I are the same, walking the same path, but for some reason you see it differently.

Looking at the weak among us, I saw a chance to help, you saw a chance to hurt.

When we both became leaders in our community, I saw purpose, you saw power.

When we learned about tyrants and conquerors, I saw an enemy, you saw a role model.

When we both used our claws for the first time, I saw a tool, you saw… something else.

When the flock was attacked from the outside, we both saw an enemy.

When the flock was attacked from within, I saw an enemy, you saw an inspiration.

When the attacks became more common, we walked into the darkness together.

We both looked at the vulnerabilities; I saw a risk; you saw an opportunity.

At the end of the day we looked each other in the eye; I saw a friend; you saw an enemy.

 

Wolf: Sheepdog, the favorite son, pride of the pack, protector of the flock.

You’re a boy king; you’ve got it all ahead of you, and we both know it.

But I won’t let you take my birthright from me; the pack is mine; the flock is mine.

You believe that the weak should be coddled and sheltered; I believe they should be utilized.

You are given power and waste it on the undeserving; I take power and use it to stay strong.

You vilify the strong and the cunning; you refuse to learn from them. I won’t make that mistake.

You fear your claws; you see them as a danger. I see they are gifts, keys to power.

You fought by my side when the pack was attacked; we brought vengeance upon our enemies.

But when visionaries began to cull the weak, you froze; you could not see their righteous goal.

I thought you would finally understand when we walked into the darkness together.

You looked at the plan we had laid out, and you tried to ruin it all. You broke my heart.

I looked you in the eyes, and for the first time I saw you for what you are. A threat.

 

Editor: Leo Milmet

1st-Place Winner, 2018 PVS Poetry Competition

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The English Department, Publications Club, and Blog Class sponsored the second annual Poetry Competition in the Middle and Upper Schools. Poems went to Dr. Carr, fearless organizer and underwriter of prizes. She passed them on to Round #1 judges, a gallery of Humanities teachers, who culled the nearly 60 poetic entries down to 12. Then, those 12 finalists went to final judge Mr. Sarkis who decided upon a 1st place, 2nd, 3rd, and Honorable Mention. Reprinted here is the winning poem, “Legacy,” penned by senior Peter Kadel. Note: all 12 finalists can be seen on the bulletin board in the Upper School Lobby.

Legacy

By Peter Kadel

 

Keep the campfire burning

Keep the campfire burning my friends; shelter this light that I have left for you.

My time with you is coming to an end, but I can still teach you a lesson before I leave.

Keep the campfire burning so I can remember where I come from as I make my way down the unmarked trail.

Gather round the fire and sing the songs I’ve taught you, but sing some new songs, too.

Tend to the fire as I have, but when the time comes, strike out on your own path as I am.

I’ll take a torch with me as I go up the mountain; I’ll use it to light the next campfire.

Watch the ridge above for the light I’ll leave behind; my fingerprints dancing across the mountain,

my legacy flickering in the night as I forge ahead into the inky darkness.

I have to walk this path alone, but solitude doesn’t suit me.

So promise you’ll visit. And I’ll do the same.

Winners compiled by Editor Shelby Armor