Barn owl warriors

I really should thank my friend for introducing me to farmer John.

My friend and I both work nine to five, and while growing up around farms and villages, we have not gotten our hands dirty. My friend, Dustin, kept telling me about farmer John, and how he would come over on the occasional weekend and help out with the farm work. One weekend, he invited me to join them.

We spent hours in the sun, riding on the back of John’s combine, stacking the blocks of hay on the back of the wagon, briefly stopping to adjust the string in the machine to properly tie up the hay into neat blocks, and once the blocks were stacked 6 or 7 blocks high we would sit on top it on the ride back to the barn, dodging tree branches and wires at 30 feet off the ground.

At the barn, we set up the hay elevator, which stretched 32 feet high to the top of the wall that would hold the stacks of hay, and just like little children at the playground, ran up the elevator like a slide. We would take turns, some of us down below loading the hay, and the rest up top stacking them as they came up. Sliding down the elevator and climbing back up when we traded places.

Talking with farmer John throughout the day, we realized that the big empty space in the middle of the barn could benefit us in another way. A big empty space, in the middle of the countryside, with no neighbors? It is perfect for training. See, I have been training and teaching Japanese martial arts for the past 20 years. The kind of training that involved climbing, jumping, acrobatics and traditional weapons training, from short knives, through swords, pole arms and bows.

John was looking for ways to monetize his farm, modern life taking its toll on people making their living of the land, which is ironic, as we depend on them for our lives. Meanwhile, I have been in constant search of a place to safely, and discreetly, train the next generation. Some people might say that such training is unnecessary these days, what with all the laws, rules and regulations as well as our police departments. True, modern life offers up an illusion of safety. We no longer struggle daily against nature. But that struggle has been replaced with a constant fight against human nature, In particular, against the more destructive of its tendencies. I believe that the further you are from danger, the closer you are to harm. If one is overprotected, they become ignorant of our fragility and the dangers inherent in living in our world and how far away help is when one cannot help themselves.

Once we finished loading up all the hay, we started playing around with some of tools there were in the barn. The pitch forks were fun, dodging a spear is tricky enough, stepping or rolling out of the way of a three-pronged spear was even more challenging! The side prongs catching our shirts so many times. Then we played around with one of the duller scythes, swinging at each other’s legs and attempting to pull one out from under us, laughing as we got tripped up and fell to the ground.

Finally, we asked John, “You said something about hunting?”

“Bow and arrow mostly” he said, he walked to the other side of the barn, and unlocked the small shed there. “This is where I keep all my hunting gear.” Several composite bows, a crossbow, and a few hunting rifles. We set up a few bales of hay and shot some arrows at it, when I turned to my friend, “Want to see something cool?” I walked over and stood in front of target bales we set up and holding my hands in front of me, palms shoulder width apart “Shoot an arrow at me.” Trusting in my confidence he brought an arrow to his bow and drew it, aiming at my center and let it fly.

The adrenaline rush was exhilarating! Time seemed to slow down as my vision tunneled, blocking out everything apart from the arrow snaking its way towards me, my hands, which I started bringing together as soon as the arrow launched, seemed to take forever to reach each other and close around the arrow, stopping it n inch from my chest.

“Dude!” my friend yelled excitedly. “It’s all in the wrist.” I responded jokingly.

At which point farmer John come back with some freshly squeezed lemonade and thanked us for our help. “Our pleasure” we said, downing our drinks. “See you next weekend when hunting season begins.”