First, Fourth, Second

Oh, we’ve got trouble. Right here in River City. That’s trouble with a capital “T” and that rhymes with “P” and stands for pretty funny how you go from 4th to 2nd unbeknownst to the judges. This is a small town, folks. When stories go ‘round about backroom shenanigans at the 50th annual Leonard J. Waxdeck Bird Calling contest, not only will the birds returneth again to their nest, but they’ll ruffle a few feathers when they get there! Angry Birds will suddenly take on a whole new meaning! In other words, some among us may take such things seriously. Judging by the 200+ in attendance at the Champagne and Strawberry Party, honoring Mr. Waxdeck and the 50th Anniversary of the contest, there are quite a few who do, indeed take the contest and it’s reputation seriously. Slightly off topic, I must take a moment to say that, were Mr. Waxdeck alive, he would have been humbled by such a special event, held at the home of Ron and Gloria Gruber on Saturday, the night after the contest itself. It was the sort of party that, sadly, has become a scarcity. A charming, more genteel side of Piedmont that is now often drowned-out by an abundance of ill-mannered blow-hards. This was a party of Piedmont’s quiet and confident, pleasant and at ease. Think of it as Piedmont’s true power-players, but the ones with manners. If you missed it, you missed Piedmont at it’s finest. An afternoon to savor. Back to the feather-ruffling… As far as I can tell, the group of contestants who won second place, were scratched at the last minute and the fourth place group was somehow bumped-up to the second place spot. How do you bump-up fourth and disregard third altogether? Shouldn’t third have been bumped to second? More importantly, why was second scratched in the first place? I imagine there’s a good explanation, but I hereby give fair warning that some are crying “Cock-a-doodle-dooty!” You see, when you tinker with the reputation of the 50-year tradition that put Piedmont on the map nationally, you also tinker with the sensibilities of those who put that tradition in place. If home-cooking is suspected in the bird calling contest, it will render it nothing more than a sham. That’s tinkering, with a capital T! A bird is known by his feathers, Mr. Brown. Unless you want to be known as the yellow-bellied dodo who hurled the bird calling contest into extinction, you just might wanna clear things up for us.

Fifty years of tradition translates to a lot of old birds and old birds are hard to pluck. Cuckaw!! Cuckaw!!