Category: Mountain Essays
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Ward and Ruth’s Halcott Airstrip
By Margaret DiBenedetto In 1945, Ward Reynolds was fresh out of the Army. During his tour he’d seen action in the Pacific Islands, had come back stateside and was in training to become an Army glider pilot when the war ended. Ward was born in Fleischmanns and grew up working on the family farm in…
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Hazel Lee’s Ultimate Sacrifice
By Margaret DiBenedetto The daughter of Chinese immigrants, Hazel Ah Ying Lee was born in Oregon in 1912. She obtained her pilot’s license in1931 at the age of 19. One of the oldest applicants, Hazel was accepted into the WASP class of 43-W-4. Fearless and calm, gregarious and funny, popular with her classmates. She…
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A Day in the Life of a WASP
By Margaret DiBenedetto In 1942, Teresa James had been a flight instructor and stunt pilot for nearly a decade, when she learned of a special program recruiting female pilots. She had more than 2,254 flight hours—far exceeding the required 500, and was accepted into the Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron and assigned to New Castle…
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A Possibly Too-Succinct History of the WASP
By Margaret DiBenedetto The WASP (Women Airforce Service Pilots) program began with a feud and ended, some might say, in abandonment. The program’s two years of existence was an experiment that yielded overwhelmingly positive and beneficial results, contributed undeniably to the US victory in WWII, and was short-sightedly terminated. Nancy Love and Jackie Cochran were…
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Old Farm
Old Farm By Margaret DiBenedetto The old Roberts farm was up Mead Road, past our house, on the right. When I was eight and thereabouts, I would walk the dirt road along the little stream to the big red barn to play with the cats. But really, to see the work horses. Allen spoke a…
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Birds at My Feeders
Birds at My Feeders By Margaret DiBenedetto Birds come to my feeders. I generally do not know what kind they are, unless they are the obvious ones: Cardinals, Chickadees, Juncos, Morning Doves, Blue Jays. The warblers and wrens and finches tend to confound me – I cannot see muted colors from a distance, so I…
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Hummertime, and the Living Is… Breezy?
Hummertime, and the Living Is … Breezy? By Margaret DiBenedetto Well, it can be breezy, if you have any hummers that like to dive bomb you; within a whisker of those wings, you can feel the wind they create against your face. And you can hear the buzzing drone of those wingbeats from some distance…
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A Native Mess Is Best
A Native Mess Is Best By Margaret DiBenedetto There’s them that mow and cut every bit of scrubby brush, field edge, and wetland they can access with brush hogs and chainsaws. They remove limbs and leaf litter from patches of woods to neaten and straighten and “clean it up”. But Nature isn’t generally “clean”, “straight”,…
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Ebony’s Den
Ebony’s Den By Margaret DiBenedetto The icy surface of the snow crunched under the weight of my snowshoes. Just loose enough to get a good grip; firm enough to keep me on top of the two feet of late winter snow that had fallen, begun to melt, then iced up again. It was a good…
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Springtime Babies
Springtime Babies By Margaret DiBenedetto Springtime is a very busy season for wildlife rehabilitators. Birds and mammals are more plentiful and more active; fresh from winter slumbers or newly arrived from southern climes, they become occupied with territories and reproduction and are less observant of roads and cars, dogs and cats. While accidents and injuries…
Wildlife Stories 