I skipped out of the group road ride last night to participate in one of my favorite activities, throwing Frisbees at trees. It turned out to be a good choice, as a life was saved.

If you’re not aware of the exciting game of Frisbee Golf, it is played a lot like regular golf, only with Frisbees instead of golf balls, trees or rocks or the doorways of sheds instead of holes, and instead of a bag of golf clubs, a bag of beers. This is not to be confused with Disc Golf, where instead of Frisbees, they use regulation “discs,” instead of trees or rocks or doorways to sheds they use official looking structures made of chains and metal, and to further separate them from hacks like us and to further legitimize Disc Golf, or “Disc,” as a bona fide sport, they carry around much fancier bags for their beers.

I did well for my first game of the season, finishing seven under par, and I didn’t even throw my arm out. But that wasn’t quite good enough, as my arch nemesis, (I won’t use his real name so I’ll refer to him simply as “Dufus”) beat me by a stroke.

Just as we were about to tee off on the fifteenth hole, some friends of ours showed up and noticed that a woodpecker was trapped inside the old shed that contains piles and piles of even older things and sits on a foundation of railroad ties recently hoisted in an attempt to keep the structure from collapsing to one side. The little red, black, and white speckled bird had found the one open window to get in, but couldn’t find it to get out, so we went in to see if we could help the little bugger along. Trying to direct a frightened woodpecker to an open window is no easy task, especially when it’s hiding behind piles of cardboard boxes full of Grandpa’s long forgotten personal effects. He wasn’t making it easy for himself each time he ducked into an even darker pocket, but eventually, we were able to get him to within a few feet of the window, and with careful maneuvers, we shooed him out the window and into the glorious spring evening.

I usually feel a bit guilty when I choose to throw Frisbees at trees instead of putting on the spandex and crawling into the pain cave in an attempt to keep up with riders who are much faster than I, but knowing that my decision resulted in the successful rescue of a little woodpecker erased any doubts that being a slacker isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, as I learned last night, it can be a divine thing. If only I hadn’t bogeyed that one time.