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True Stories . page 2Final Resting Place
It was about 23 years ago, in the town of Cape Broyle; My boss and I were surveying a piece of land on a hillside overlooking the scenic bay. The owners, who were from Norway, as I remember, had gone on a trip on their sailboat and were never seen again. While measuring the boundary, I noticed a mound in the grass and a rock that was laying flat on the ground. As I tipped the rock up, it slid back into it's original position. It was a headstone. A flat rock with the name V. Atwood and Barrington, N. S. engraved on it's face. It turns out, Mr. Atwood was fishing on a Lunenburg schooner from Nova Scotia and became ill and died. So far from home, the crew had no choice but to come ashore and bury him. It is said that because he was not Roman Catholic, he could not be buried in the local cemetery. His shipmates buried him high on a grassy hill providing him with a fantastic view, I guess, so he could watch them sail away. Although it was known to be in the 1800s, the date, if it was ever on the headstone, has long since been worn away. As well, there's a good chance that the V was actually a W and a piece of rock had since, broken away.I recently returned to see what had become of the grave and take a few pictures. The original headstone has deteriorated somewhat and the new owners have erected a wooden cross, but he was otherwise, resting peacefully, just as I had left him. True Story! Photo and Story by Steve Meeker | Click for more graveside photos As the Crow Flies
Since finding a baby crow on a nearby railway track, me and "Gizmo", have become best friends forever. We found him near the railway tracks, with two other siblings, who were already dead. When I asked my parents if I could keep him, I was warned not to get my hopes up and that he would probably die soon. Fat chance! I fed him and nursed him back to health. Due to his injuries, Gizmo couldn't walk or fly all that well, but soon became a member of the family. I can lay the crow on it's back and put the bird to sleep by rubbing his neck. Once while I was out of the province for a few days, the crow was restless and wouldn't settle in his cage. My mom put a picture of me in his cage and they suddenly had a contented bird. A few summers ago, while camping at Butterpot Park, Gizmo discovered that he liked to ride on the handlebars of my bike. My mom and dad made a helmet, using an aluminum tart shell and a twist tie, which the crow seemed to like. I'll never forget the feeling of me pedaling my bike down the road with Gizmo perched on the handlebars, his helmet on, wings spread, pretending he was flying. True Story!Photo and Author anonymous | Click for more Gizmo photos Requesting True StoriesI need submissions. If you send a story, you'll be credited unless you request otherwise.
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