Mdf, (Wiki.) |
Dusty Miller
What an amazing creature. The
small, dull-colored Merlin that flew past had wide wings, but they were also
short. The bird had a long tail, and at first I took it for a mourning dove, as
the graceful, brown-gray shape flew silently overhead. It went diving down into
the low trees of the park.
This was no dove. At the
high speed it was gliding, wings extended, it must have come down from on high,
and then pulled out, flat and level. It was one of those misty, half-lit days
in November. I was out walking in sheer boredom. Most of the leaves were gone
from the trees, although a few wine-colored ones trembled on the end of a maple
branch to my left. Patches of color stood out in high contrast against the blue
bottoms of the low clouds above.
Merlins have a mottled
chest, yellow, naked lower legs, and a slate-colored back on the males. The long
tail is barred with light and dark. They have golden-yellow eyes. This one was
clearly a female. A ringing ki-ki-ki—ki—ki sound rang out around the little
patch of forest. It had to be sitting on a branch less than fifty metres away.
Once in the trees, they’re
all but invisible.
I wondered where it went.
It was prowling for a meal, with its stealthy approach, down low, coming out of
the mist, almost invisible against the dull sky. It must have been going over a
hundred kilometres an hour, the perfect predator. Perhaps it had made a kill of
some small songbird or a rodent, about all there is to eat for an animal like that
around here.
I stepped off the graveled track,
walking on the fringe of grass that ran between it and the flower gardens that
line this part of the path. There’s an arboretum right behind my house. I’ve
taken a lot of photos there. I didn’t have my camera this time.
Faint noises came out of a clump
of cedars, ahead and off to my right. A thicket of shrubs with long, arching,
trailing yellow stems covered in small red berries hid my approach.
Otherwise she would have heard my
coming.
I caught a glimpse of something
pale through the trees as something moved in there. There are sheltered places.
People go there to get out of the rain, teenagers party after dark, kids played
hide and seek in there in the good weather.
I was curious to see how close I
could get, so I stayed on the grass and let my feet naturally fall into
stalking mode. When I was very young, I dreamed of being a woodsman, just like
in an old Zane Grey novel. I must have gotten pretty good at it, as she never
heard me coming.
A girl stood in a glade. She was
hurriedly dressing herself in a faded pair of jeans. Her back turned, she
tucked in an old plaid bush shirt in, then fastened her belt. A pair of boots
were on the ground beside her.
She pulled a jacket from a small, dark green day
pack, resting under some overhanging branches. With my heart pounding in my
chest, I backed up suddenly, to say the least. Was she dressing in there?
But why? What had she been doing?
I backtracked silently as far as I could get. I mean, I’m not a peeping Tom or
anything like that, although the clear impression in my head was of a very
beautiful young woman with long, blond hair, in her early twenties, about
one-hundred-seventy centimetres tall. She was nicely built.
She didn’t look homeless, and I
was pretty sure she hadn’t been having a pee in the bushes. So I stepped back
on the path and began moving towards where she had been. There was a bit of a
curve in the path, and as I came around the corner, there she was, standing in
the middle of the trail, all properly dressed and with the pack-straps visible
on her shoulders.
She faced me and stared right
into my eyes. She must have known I was there.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy on
you.”
“I know you.”
My heart almost stopped dead. Her
voice was low, smooth, and surprising in its warmth. Her calm, green eyes
regarded me in curiosity and recognition.
“Pardon me?”
“I know you. You’re the gentle
one. I’ve seen you talk to the squirrels. And sometimes the little ones, the
lovely little red birds, the ones that sit in the top of a pine-tree and sing,
pipi-pipi-pipi-pip-pip-pip. You feed half the cats in the neighborhood. They
like to come over and get a snack, or a drink of water, or a pat on the head.”
She regarded me with tolerant
humor. I chuckled. This was a very strange conversation. Just a scruffy
old man, I’m actually quite shy where stunningly attractive young women are
concerned.
“Um, yeah, oh, well. I guess I
like cats and stuff.”
I couldn’t think of anything else
to say. Just as I was about to step around and keep going, she reached over and
patted my arm near the shoulder.
“Why don’t you meet me here
tomorrow, about one o’clock? You can watch me fly.”
I stood gaping. She smiled
sweetly and then turned and walked off up the trail.
I watched her lithe, athletic
form as she strode purposefully away. She took one last look back over her
shoulder.
“Okay! I’ll be here.”
Demure yet mischievous, she smiled
mysteriously. She turned a corner and disappeared. All around was silence,
except for the low rumble of a jetliner cruising past above the dark,
wet-looking clouds. Yeah, I’ll be here tomorrow.
She was one wild-looking girl, or
shape-shifter, or whatever. I have nothing to lose, if you care to look at it
that way.
END
No comments:
Post a Comment