garbage 1


What an evil curse upon the earth is litter.

Thrown from the window of a moving car. Tossed on the ground at the city park. Dumped into the desert from the back of a truck.

Litter is a most grievous blot upon the land, upon our waters.

Litter grows. It multiplies. It’s ugly. It’s horrid. It’s sick.

We’re sick, those of us who practice litter. We spew garbage upon our very souls.

Once upon a time, we practiced keeping America beautiful. Now, we practice dumping waste, pumping waste, scattering waste.

We eat waste. We drink it. We die with its mark upon our soul.


The answer is simple. Pick it up. Pack it in; pack it out. Don’t dump.

Keep America beautiful. Keep our earth beautiful. Keep your soul beautiful.

I’m counting on you. You can count on me.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Pond

The bird stands by the pond, and I don’t know what kind of a bird it is.

The pond is at the end of an irrigation ditch, and that little body of water is popular with the feathered population.

I see them sitting out there in the water, and I see them hanging around the ditches and fields: fleet roadrunners, burrowing owls, duck, geese, egrets, blue herons, and best of all, magnificent soaring raptors. I don’t know if they are hawks or falcons.

The bird by the pond is about 18 inches tall. It has a short body and long neck. It is brown. I haven’t seen a bird like this before.

bird and pond

Out there by the pond, I see them hang around. Webbed-footed birds float on the water. I see quail scurry along the ditches and run through the fields. I see a quail mother fake injury to sacrifice herself for her fleeing young.

I see four ugly buzzards that take a couple of weeks to devour the carcass of what appears to be a dead porcupine.

I don’t know if it is a porcupine. The smell keeps me at a distance. Not to mention, I don’t want to disturb the vultures that so diligently feast on the shrinking rodent.

Yes, there is beauty out there at the pond and along the artery that feeds it.

The pond always has water. Occasionally, the pond gets thirsty, but then a great burst of rain or flowing irrigation fills it again.

The pond holds enough water that migratory birds of all feathers make it a point to drop by and float awhile. At least until they see me.


Out there by the open fields where farmers grow their crops, there is beauty, even in the carcass of a porcupine and the ugly birds that feed upon it.

David Madrid

Email: David Madrid

Hello world!

Welcome to This site is your place to come for original stories written by me, David Madrid. I am a writer and storyteller. I hope to share my positive fables and stories with you. Whether you are an adult or child, my stories will appeal to you.

I have just begun to build this site, so have patience with me, and check back regularly for new stories and blog posts.

Read El Chupacabra, a horror story featuring the mythical goat sucker of Latino lore.

Thank you for your interest.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid