How quickly we forget. On January 26th, I would have missed the anniversary of having survived a helicopter crash with my buddy John Strayer thirteen years ago. Fortunately, friend Erich Martell remembered…with a sense of humor. He asked AI to create a poem or ballad about it. Here it is: I hope you find it as funny as I did.
The Ballad of the Florida Skies
In the heat of the Florida morning, where the sawgrass meets the pine,
A legend of the leather holster and the straight and narrow line,
Took to the air on spinning blades to thin the tusked brigade,
With Mas Ayoob, the witness wise, in the hunter’s light and shade.
They skimmed the tops of cabbage palms and watched the shadows flee,
The master of the lethal force, as calm as he could be.
Beside him sat John Strayer, with a Smith in heavy hand,
Looking for the copper-backs that scarred the southern land.
A shadow broke from cover—a boar of ancient size,
John raised the iron Mountain Gun with focus in his eyes.
But then the sky began to tilt, the rotors lost their song,
And what was meant for steady flight went suddenly, terribly wrong.
The bird began to shutter, then it rolled toward the mud,
Not brought down by a tusker’s charge or any creature’s blood.
But as the cockpit buckled and the glass began to fly,
The rules of safety held their ground beneath that spinning sky.
Though gravity was pulling hard and metal met the grit,
John kept his finger off the blade and never wavered a bit.
The muzzle never crossed his friend, the sights were kept away,
A lesson born of discipline that saved a life that day.
The dust it settled slowly on the wreckage in the glade,
The “shot down” legend started in the stories that were made.
But Mas walked from the twisted steel, his wisdom still intact:
That safety isn’t just a word—it’s a life-preserving pact.
So here’s to the men who survived the fall and the hogs they didn’t get,
To the expert witness of the law who hasn’t finished yet.
They say the pigs they brought him down with a snout and a mighty roar,
But the master knows it’s training that brings you back to shore.
Back when it happened, our mutual friend Steve Denney – retired cop, firearms instructor, and musician extraordinaire – put his own sense of humor to the situation with his song “Pork Chopper Blues,” here: