Dawn of the Ducks – Part 5: Rob Bird, the cage and the road I recovered on

Over the years, I’ve discovered what works for me when it comes to preparing for a hike, both physically and mentally.

Some of those methods… haven’t exactly been popular with the people around me.

Protested by family, friends and co-workers—

And yes, after days of incessant complaining, I reluctantly took a shower.

But what about situations on the trail that no amount of training can prepare you for?

One case that stands out is the time I got sick.

Strength exhausted. Barely able to function.

And if it weren’t for the generosity of a trail angel and the lodge owner, I’m not sure what would have become of me.

I arrived in Dalton, Massachusetts.

My original intention was to find a hotel and disappear for a few days.

But before I could start looking… a white van pulled up.

Casper the Ghost was painted on the side.

I didn’t show up.

I didn’t say a word.

I just looked forward.

Not intentionally—

He was just… apathetic.

The driver leaned over.

«Hey, how are you? I’m Rob Bird.»

I looked up, regaining my balance long enough to respond.

«Sorry…my name is Duckets. I’ve been sick for several days. I’m a little out of it.»

Rob began to explain…

«I own the lodge, the Birdcage. If you want, you can stay for a few days. We’ll help you get into walking shape.»

I don’t remember accepting.

I don’t remember the conversation on the way.

I don’t remember the car trip.

But I do remember getting to the door.

And entering…

And somehow feel better.

Not well—

But home.

The place was full of hikers.

Rob had some simple rules.

The first: until you take a shower, you cannot sit anywhere other than the kitchen.

Then I sat down at the table.

Talking to Rob.

Smoke a cigarette.

Waiting my turn.

It wouldn’t be long before the shower turned on, and that’s when I saw myself in the mirror.

There was a scale on the floor.

Nervous, I stepped.

My reflection was the visual…

The scale was the validation.

124 lbs.

And some of it… was dirt.

So I got into the shower…

And I began my way back.

For the next few days I ate. Rested. Loose full.

But most importantly—

I got to know Rob.

And the bird cage.

He had been helping hikers for more than a decade.

He was no stranger to hikers who were a little worn out.

Piles of books lined the place, filled with photographs of hikers from years past.

Finally… I found my way to the 2012 portfolio.

At one point, I heard about Mohawks…

How Rob was known for his experience with clippers.

Now I knew the cold was on its way…

But if he was willing to break them…

I was willing to get one.

I was never able to confirm it, but Rob mentioned that it would probably be one of the last ones of the season.

Not many people want a mohawk when winter approaches.

But for me, whether it’s cold or not,

It was an honor.

A rite of passage.

Proof that I stayed.

That I recovered.

That I was part of Birdcage.

Now…as I prepare for the CDT, I have been going through old photos and videos.

It’s good to have them.

But some people—

and some places

Require no reminders.

Rob bird…

And the bird cage…

These are two parts of my Appalachian Trail trip that I will never forget.

The time I spent there did exactly what he said it would…

I was back in walking shape…and on my way.

Years later, I came across a short documentary about Rob: One Wing Into the Fire.

It’s only about 14 minutes long… but it says more than I ever could.

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