Prison Camp: Daily Life
A Forum for Stories of Incarceration, Justice, and Redemption
Life inside a federal prison camp is defined less by dramatic violence than by the daily grind of petty rules, small indignities, and endless frustrations. What matters most is how you respond to them. This week’s piece comes from Stuart Anderson, a colleague in the White Collar Support Group. He reflects on the Latin proverb, “Aquila non capit muscas” — THE EAGLE DOES NOT CATCH FLIES— and how that idea helped him navigate the constant irritations of incarceration without losing himself.
The Eagle Does Not Catch Flies
Many unwritten lessons come with being dropped into an incarcerated environment. For me, the hardest thing to learn was control. My instinct, especially when dealing with negative or annoying people, was to react with frustration or anger—my default coping mechanism for most of my life.
The cognitive therapy regimen of RDAP, coupled with my own survival instincts, forced me to face those impulses head-on. I wasn’t “cured” overnight, but I was given a framework for self-awareness, accountability, and real change—tools that carried into life after camp.
An old Latin proverb became my touchstone: Aquila non capit muscas — the eagle does not catch flies. If I wanted to stay on the right path, I couldn’t waste energy on buzzing irritations. My only hunt was to get home as quickly as possible and avoid the conflicts that could have catastrophic consequences. The same truth would apply once I was out: stay focused on what truly matters—God, family, integrity.
At Yankton FPC, irritations were constant: COVID lockdowns, staff negativity, unstable personalities, and a total lack of privacy. But my time in the halfway house nearly broke me. It wasn’t one big thing but a thousand small ones—the endless chill of overworked air conditioning, dark rooms, filthy bathrooms, terrible food, and the suffocating sense of being trapped.
The worst came when my case manager told me I couldn’t transition to home confinement unless I first got a job. The problem: I didn’t live in that city, and I had already passed my transfer date home. Still, the requirement stood. Their solution? Apply for a job at the local Taco Bell down the street—as if that would somehow redeem my past.
Each irritation was a mosquito bite waiting to become infected. Taken together, they were overwhelming. But I reminded myself of what I had learned at Yankton: on their own, they weren’t worth my energy. That lesson was even more vital in the halfway house, so close to going home.
The eagle’s wisdom still applied: don’t swat at flies. Keep your eyes fixed on the horizon. Focus on the larger goal—finishing my time, getting home, and rebuilding my life with my family.
It’s a lesson I carry to this day. Don’t sweat the small things. Keep soaring toward what matters.
If this story resonates with you, or if you’ve wrestled with your own origin myths, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Up Next on White Collar Journal:
Wednesday (Justice Notes): Criminal Justice Reform Efforts
Thursday (Notes from Exisle): Log/Verse: Daily, fragmented reflections
Sunday (Prison Camp): More stories from prison