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By choosing I Accept , you consent to our use of cookies and other tracking technologies. Stories Schedule Roster Stats. Filed under:. By fizzle Jan 29, , am CST. Reddit Pocket Flipboard Email. Loading comments Lightfoot scored just two in the second half and was not a big part of the gameplan as things tightened up down the stretch. At the time of publishing, Texas and Texas Tech have yet to play, but the Jayhawks will face the winner Friday night at in the semifinals, and will once again be down McCormack and Enaruna.
Cookie banner We use cookies and other tracking technologies to improve your browsing experience on our site, show personalized content and targeted ads, analyze site traffic, and understand where our audiences come from. By choosing I Accept , you consent to our use of cookies and other tracking technologies. Stories Schedule Roster Stats. Filed under: Kansas Jayhawk Basketball. Reddit Pocket Flipboard Email. Loading comments Share this story Twitter Facebook. This is quite short, being a mere tuft of feathers when these birds are in repose.
But in flight, or when running along the ground where they out-distance our best horses they carry it erect like a scorpion. The Indians say this tail is poisonous, declaring that in battle they employ it as a weapon, flying backwards, which they do with the greatest ease.
This disrespect," he naively suspects, "was the cause of all our troubles in this land, the least of which by no means was our failure to locate those golden cities. Inasmuch as we had been warned by the Indians that the Guardian Spirit of the Prairies is none other than this bird, it would have served us better to propitiate it, instead, as our ignorance prompted, to offer them these insults.
Wherefrom it is argued that the squawking of these prairie monsters was merely a demand for tribute. Rather do I believe them to be a species of the Phoenix bird, generated in fire and brimstone, and never ceasing do I offer my prayers of thanksgiving to the Virgin, that I was delivered from their country with a whole skin.
This legendary Spaniard was not the last to consider the Phoenix and Jayhawk identical. Like the Jayhawk, the Phoenix is all things to all men, as well as all sizes.
It is described as "a bird of gorgeous plumage, a native of Arabia, and sacred to the sun. It is most famous, of course, for the fact that it propagates itself in fire, and so makes itself immortal. This theory that the Jayhawk is a Phoenix has divided scientists into two schools of thought, both fiercely incognito.
One asserts that both are able to change colors like a chameleon, that both can assume different shapes and sizes, that both have the power to become invisible, and that they are, therefore, but Eastern and Western species of the genus mirabile dictu. The second school, ignoring the Phoenix, declares that the Jayhawk is merely a variant of the cuckoo. Shall I call thee bird or but a wandering voice! When its young are hatched they eat the food intended for the true nestlings and end by shoving their starving hosts out on the ground to their deaths.
Naturally the adult is an evasive bird, but its invisibility is that of a sneak and a coward. Unquestionably the Jayhawk is cuckoo! So much for the myths of the ornithologists. Phoenix or cuckoo, the Jayhawk continues to be the Guardian Spirit of Kansas. As it once defended the territory from bushwhackers it still spreads its protecting wings over the state.
The grasshoppers of the great plague of , which disappeared as suddenly as they came, many old timers assert, were devoured in one night by fledgling Jayhawks. And the miraculous growths of volunteer wheat in barren fields, which over the years have saved hundreds of farmers from ruin, they will tell you, were drilled there by tiny invisible Jayhawks. It was the opinion of Dave Leahy, however, that the Jayhawk did not always conduct himself as a feathered Boy Scout should.
That Irish Kansan of delightful memory once complained that the Jayhawk was a practical joker and that it had spoiled one of his best hoaxes. Dave at the time was a reporter on one of the Wichita papers. One day toward the end of March he wrote a story about a great flock of parrots which were flying north, following the course of the Arkansas river. The next day he described the vast numbers of the birds and estimated the speed of their flight.
Each day the story grew, until, on the 31st, he had the birds just south of Wichita, darkening the sun, and scheduled to reach the Douglas avenue bridge about seven the next morning.
It was April Fool's Day, you understand, and I was chuckling to myself, constructing the lead for tomorrow's story. Then I heard somebody shout, and overhead, would you believe it, about fifty scraggly little birds the size of a sparrow came into sight. For a few minutes they dived around, just long enough to make sure that I'd be taken for a fool or a liar, then they disappeared.
Those birds were Jayhawks, the little devils," Dave concluded, "I recognized them. They were jealous that anybody but them would try to pull off a practical joke in Kansas! It was also near Wichita, apparently, that a Jayhawk was seen last. The following story is an army pilot's account of a weird flight in a B, one of the new seven-motor bombers. This plane, strangely enough, had been christened "The Flying Jayhawk.
Clutched in its right claw are a three and a four, in its left a two and a five, while from its beak it rolls out a six and a one. This interview is taken from the Wichita Beagle:. A little this side of Hutchinson I heard a swishing sound above the roar of the plane. Then something passed us, a sort of shadow, going like a bat out of hell. As it went by it kind of wailed, though maybe it was more like a loud swoosh.
From the sound I figured it for one of those new jet-propelled jobs. Then I heard Sergeant Goober's voice in my ear phone. But it was plain that it was the biggest and fastest thing I'd ever seen in the air. My heart did an outside loop--laugh if you want to--but for a second it came over me that this was some secret plane the Nazis had suddenly turned loose on us. Then Goober's voice came in again.
It had stopped dead, in the air! Then it started backing up towards us, and fast. No time for anything. Yet I still remember thinking in a surprised sort of way, 'Hm-m!
Jet propelled both ways! Why the hell doesn't the army tell us these things? Then it let down its left claw. Whatever you want to call it. But it wasn't a wheel. That's the only thing the whole crew agrees on. Bright and shiny--yellow--but no part of any normal landing gear. And it kept on letting it down. Every once in a while it would knife up into the air and maybe do a couple of impossible rolls, as if calling attention to itself.
Then it would swoosh down and dangle that yellow left claw at us again. But when we approached the airport it zoomed up out of sight. For a second I thought it had left us. But as I circled the field I could hear the swoosh louder than ever and I realized that it was right above us. Then, as I settled in for a landing, Goober came into my ear with a shriek. Why I didn't I'll never know. Instead, I made a normal landing and the swooshing sound faded away. Then the plane suddenly toppled over sideways.
I had landed with the left wheel gone! If I'm stuck with it so is Goober and the rest of the crew. Goober says this Whatever-it-was looked exactly like the picture of the Jayhawk we've got on the plane. I wouldn't know, I don't see so well. Besides, Goober is a K. Too funny, and could be he's giving 'em to me. You see, when I came out of the hangar, still wiping off the sweat, right in front of me, sitting on a fence, was a bird the size of a wren, exactly the same! Big yellow beak and all, except this one had on boots!
I stopped, pop-eyed. The bird looked at me a second then let out a squawk like a Bronx cheer. When he flew off he made a faint swooshing sound, like a baby sky-rocket. That is the story of the lieutenant, according to the Beagle. If this is the stuff of mythology, let us have more of it. As the myths of the Greeks reflected their humor and idealism, the Jayhawk is peculiarly an expression of the spirit of Kansas. Like the state, it was born in adversity and its flight is to the stars.
It is a fighting bird, full of the tough humor of the territorial soldiers who first made it their mascot. A famous regiment of the Civil War was proud to bear its name.
When this war is over the Jayhawk will have fought three times in the Philippines: first with Funston, again in the bloody retreat on Bataan, and those invisible wings will be present, never fear, when Corregidor is avenged.
In France, in the first World War, it gave its name to another Kansas regiment. Today its free and fierce spirit flies with Kansans on every battle front. Soon the shadow of its wings will fall once more over France, above the victorious armies of a soldier from Kansas. The Jayhawk is a heroic bird, but don't try to treat it like a hero.
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