DOWN TO THE BANK OF THE WARRIOR

 The odors as we walk down the hill from River Road change with each step. John is the first to notice the tiny toads hurriedly jumping away from our muddy trail. There are no footprints. John and I are the first ones to come down since the flood. 

 Creek warriors fought the Choctaws for this riverbank. The Muskogee Nation claimed as far west as the east bank of the Tombigbee but they were lucky just to get Choctaw permission to stay on the east bank of the Warrior. A few city blocks from the river birch log upon which I sit, Chief Eufaula humbly made his farewell address to the Alabama legislature in 1836. He was about to take a long walk to Oklahoma.

 Bald eagles once nested on this riverbank. Maybe they will nest here again. Maybe one day we can sit in a restaurant on the crest of River Hill, clink a few ice cubes together and watch the sun go down through eagle's wings. 

There are no boats on the river this afternoon. I sit here and supervise my son's Tarzan tricks. He is climbing upon the leaning trunk of an old willow tree that stretches out over the water. I make him climb down and then wade out to check the bottom for trash.

 He points to the willow limbs above him and asks,"Can we build a tree house there?" 

I don't answer him. 

 He walks over to me and exclaims,"Daddy, look what that beaver did! He tore down that whole tree with his teeth!" 

 "What kind of tree is this?," I ask. 

"I don't know. I sure don't know." 

 "Look at the bark."

 He peels some off and says,"It seems like it's paper." 

 I say,"It's named after a place we used to take you when you were a little boy."

 "River Birch?" 

 "Yeah." 

 John goes back to the willow tree and again climbs out over the river. He counts his footsteps.

 After twenty-eight steps he asks,"Should I go any farther?"

 I don't answer. 

He goes out three more steps. 

"You're gonna bust your butt!," I yell.

 "I'm not trying to. You know how I learned to climb so good?" 

 "How?"

 "I watched Discovery Channel."

 "What does the Discovery Channel have to do with climbing?" 

 "The monkeys. But I don't climb exactly like them. I move slowly."

 I hear the traffic on River Road. The noise never went away. The novelty of the Black Warrior caused me to ignore it for awhile. I wonder how many people think about the river as they drive by. 

 My son had now penetrated the sandy peninsula that juts out into the Warrior here at the mouth of University Branch. He is building a fort with logs deposited by June's high water. 

John returns with a piece of driftwood. "Look at this cool piece of driftwood, Dad." 

I have now changed my desk. I did this by moving my clipboard from the beaver-downed river birch to the leaning willow. 

My son prepares to climb out on the willow once more. He needs to get by me. "Daddy! Daddy! Excuse me, Dad," he says politely. 

 I move back over to the river birch and John climbs all the way out to the very end of the tree. 

He calls to me,"Hey,Dad, look at me!" 

He gathers leaves in his hands and drops them into the water. 

"Daddy, why do people always say, 'God help me' ?" 

 "Well, 'God help me' is just a part of it. What they mean to say is, 'God, help me to do it.' 'It' being whatever they're trying to accomplish."

 "I don't get it." 

 "Let me put it to you another way: God helps those who help themselves." 

"So you have to try to do something before God can help you to do something." 

 "Rome wasn't built in a day." 

 "Oh, I get it. That's what we pray for each morning."

 "That's right son." 

I sit on my river birch and John sits on his willow branch. Both of us look out over the river. 

 I yell, "Let's go, Buddy."

 "Dad, will you bring me here tomorrow?"

 "I don't know, son.  We'll see."