Forgot My Hunting Gear!

We pulled up to the old farmhouse, relieved to finally make it to our traditional hunting area in eastern Montana. It had been a long, windy and rough road getting there, especially since the springs on Andy’s heavy-duty three-quarter ton Ford were as stiff as steel girders, and you could feel every rock and rut in the gravel road that wound through the low hills. We were greeted by brown grass and falling yellow leaves. A slight chill made us shiver under the gray sky when we got out of the warmth of the cab. Perfect hunting weather.

The landowners remembered us from the previous years, but I could still sense the unease they felt associated with us strangers entering their house. We put on our cheeriest faces, wanting to get through the formalities of getting permission to hunt on their ranch as quickly as possible.

We were back out the door in record time—less than an hour—and headed back to Andy’s truck when something struck me as being wrong, out of place, or that I was forgetting something very important. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then like a blow to the back of the head I realized what it was. I’d forgotten everything! And I mean everything. I did not even have my rifle, let alone my food, clothing, sleeping bag and other personal gear.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to Andy. “You are never going to believe this, but I forgot my gun, and bullets, my knife, sleeping bag, everything.”

Andy just stared at me. After a long pause, I said, “Well, I better go home and get my stuff.” Andy still didn’t open his mouth.

Then, speaking as much to myself as to him, I said, “What’s the best way to do this? You need your rig to get to camp and set up…” I paused; then added, “Aliza will be here with her dad and Ferne pretty soon. Maybe I could take their car home and be back before they need it in the morning before breakfast…” I thought they would probably drive to town and eat breakfast, while Andy and I would be camping out in the boonies.

About then I saw the plume of dust from Mike’s car in the distance coming up the long driveway. I walked out to meet Aliza, Mike and Ferne and to tell them my situation. Concern crossed Mike’s face immediately when I told him my plight. He and Ferne discussed my problem for a few minutes, and then Mike turned to me and said that he really didn’t want his car being driven up and down that awful road more than absolutely necessary.

I was a bit stunned by his response, but didn’t question him. Instead, I mentally marked that option off in my head and turning away slightly so as not to have to look him in the eyes said, “Well, maybe I can take Andy’s truck after we get camp set up, and be back late tonight and ready to hunt in the morning.”

Aliza remained silent throughout the whole interaction, probably in shock at hearing that I’d forgotten anything. I also thought that she was probably respecting her father’s decision and not interfering. She was also possibly still feeling a bit hesitant about going on a hunting trip with me for the first time in the first place. And now this. I walked over to her and said, “I’ll see if I can take Andy’s truck home and be back as fast as possible. I feel pretty stupid. This has never happened to me before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just didn’t take enough time to get ready and then we rushed off and I forgot everything sitting in the garage.”

She didn’t seem as rattled as I thought; she said, “That’s okay, honey. Just be careful.”

I was glad she took it in stride. But I was bothered by her father’s resistance to allowing me the use his car. I thought it was extremely selfish of him. It seemed like such a city-person attitude.

Body Art

I decided to try and preserve her head because she was beautiful and because I knew she wouldn’t live long. But I made up a story, telling her that it was a medical procedure that could save her life. She was still hesitant, but agreed to let me do it after all.

It was hard to stop the blood from flowing when I cut her head off, but by placing it on a sponge covering with a clean white sheet I was able to staunch the flow pretty well. At least it wasn’t too visible. If her neck continued to bleed, it would soak straight into the sponge. I hoped that she would pass out quickly. It was freaky talking to a person’s head when it was detached from its body. I was frankly surprised that a person didn’t immediately pass out or die after their head was cut off.

She gave me a sad look like she realized that I had tricked her. But mostly because she knew that I’d done it because she knew that there was nothing anyone could do to save her life. It might also have been partially due to that fact that she was finally bleeding out and was getting light-headed.

Her beautiful face would at least be preserved in perpetuity for others to see. She was beautiful, really beautiful. Not a blemish on her skin, and those sensitive, caring eyes. Even in death she seemed to be able to look into the depth of your soul and read your thoughts. There was something truly healing about those eyes. If only there had been a way to save her.

A flap of skin from her left cheek began to fold over. I quickly caught it and pressed it back into place. She felt it and moved her eyes to see, but of course it’s hard to see one’s own face without the aid of a mirror. I was glad she didn’t have a mirror right then because she would have known that I’d not told her the truth and then she might think less of me.

Games of the Future

At first it seemed strange, flinging things, including other animals from an abandoned building to try and see if we could hit scavenging coyotes. But it was challenging sport and I soon got into it. Our stadium was a bombed out skyscraper in the middle of what was at one time a major city. It was now in the middle of nowhere. The surrounding countryside was overgrown with a tangle of vegetation. What remained of the building that we used as our launching platform was an empty shell, crumbling concrete and twisted steel. There was nothing of value left inside. Everything had been looted or trashed many years ago.

We were on one of the uppermost floors where we had a good view; plus the empty window frames were large and could accommodate a good-sized catapult. Some of the inventions were ingenious and could handle some pretty large and heavy objects. Others were small with competitors tossing mice with snare loops attached, hoping to lasso a coyote around the neck. Then what; I don’t know. I figured the mouse would just end up as a snack for a coyote.

I was new at the game so I didn’t have my own catapult yet; so I watched, intent on learning as much about the sport as possible, including which methods seemed to be the most effective.

The sky was dark except for an occasional shaft of orange light that found a hole through the radioactive clouds that still mostly blotted out the red orb of a sun. I wondered how long it would take for the last ugly clouds to finally disappear. Lots of people no longer thought much about it, but I did. I always marveled at how quickly people adapted to their environment. We are a resilient species. Demented in many ways, yes, but adaptable – just like the coyotes far below us that we were entertaining ourselves with now, trying to capture them “remotely”. The clouds made seeing the coyotes a challenge in itself. We scanned the hillsides and scrubland openings with old pairs of binoculars, paying particular attention to the places illuminated by the occasional beam of light provided by a gap in the clouds.

Someone tossed a live monkey from their catapult. Everyone watched with bated breath to see how close it would land to a small pack of coyotes, three or four from what I could see, that were milling around in a little meadow. I guessed they were hunting mice themselves. As the flying primate got closer to the ground I couldn’t help but tense up inside, fearing that it would splat when it hit the ground. But those around me assured me that people had thrown monkeys before and that “they always land upright – like a cat always lands on its four feet when dropped…”

“Yeah, but not from ten flights up,” I argued.

“Uh-huh,” the guy doing the flinging said. “Done it a bunch of times. They hit and take off running right away. It’s real cool. Watch. He’s gonna hit in a second.”

We’d been chatting the entire time the chimp had been sailing through the air, so you know we were a long ways off and very high up in the old building. There was some ooohs and aaahs from the crowd just as the monkey was nearing touchdown. It was kind of weird, and reminded me of the old days when people watched Fourth of July fireworks displays. There wasn’t much of that anymore. People didn’t waste gunpowder on anything. It was used for hunting and protection. Maybe that’s why some of these bizarre games were invented to capture animals like these coyotes. People were always inventing things. They were survivors.

A roar went up from the crowd as the monkey literally landed on top of one of the coyote’s backs. Naturally, the coyote went berserk and took off running. I was amazed. It looked like the chimp knew exactly what it was doing, like it had been able to adjust its flight mid-air so that it could land squarely on the coyote’s back. The chimp took the coyote down quickly. It reached forward and wrapped one hairy hand around the coyote’s head and jerked it to one side. The coyote started to tumble and the monkey leapt dexterously off its back. The coyote ended up in a heap, spooking and scattering the other coyotes in all directions. The chimp jumped back on the coyote and bit it in the back of the neck, killing it instantly. It was pretty ghastly, but the onlookers liked it.

I turned and looked at the catapulter in surprise and asked, “Have you thrown that monkey before?”

“Uh-huh, lots of times. He’s good.”

“One of the best,” said somebody else.

“I can see that.” I nodded. “Others can do that?”

“Yep. He likes the game. Maybe its because he likes the fresh meat, too. I don’t know, but he’s a smart bugger.”

Just then the ground began to rumble and the building shook. Near the top we could really feel it. This must have been one of those old buildings not built on rollers. Being rigid, and us near the top and farther away from the ground where the quake shook, the vibrations were magnified. Loose concrete started to fall from the ceiling and chaos ensued. People scrambled for the stairwell. Of course the elevator didn’t work. In fact, it probably wouldn’t have worked even when the building was still inhabited. But with no electricity we were at the mercy of nature and had to rely on our own steam to get out.

I joined the frenzied group fleeing the scene but found myself wanting to stop and watch and see what the monkey would do next. Would the other coyotes stop and go back to see what became of their pack member? I doubted it. They were all such survivors themselves. It was every coyote for himself. Just like it was every man for himself after the war.

Then it hit me. What was I running for? I didn’t need to run. I stopped; a sense of calm came over me. I walked over to one of the big open windows and peered out. Somehow the sky looked beautiful to me, all dark and foreboding, yes, but beautiful as well. It reminded me of a Thomas Moran or Albert Bierstadt landscape painting. The dark sepia and indigo tones had splashes of light going through them giving them tremendous depth and feeling.

I looked down and saw that most of the catapulters were out of the building and running to put some distance between themselves and the falling debris. It could fall down, I told myself. I stepped to the sill and took a deep breath. The air tasted good these days. With all the plant life, the air smelled and tasted of rich oxygen. It was true, fewer and fewer people were getting sick these days. I was sure that it had something to do with all the plants. The Earth was healing.
Below me several people had stopped running and were looking up at me standing on the edge of window with a thousand feet of nothing between me and the ground. They waved their arms at me, signaling me, trying to get my attention. I thought I could hear them yelling at me not to jump. I smiled and jumped.

The screams from far below me were considerably more audible than the admonitions had been. Then came the gasps of incredulity when I stopped plummeting straight down and instead began to soar out over the hills. I circled back and waved to see people’s reactions after they realized that I was not going to die in a splat on the ground. Some of them waved slowly back. I could imagine their surprise at seeing a person fly unaided by any mechanical contrivance. And then I thought of the chimp. What if he could fly, too? Not only was our species evolving, but so were all the other plants and animals.

My Secret

I took the job in Miles City; and Aliza, as usual, was already doing her thing, hustling for clients to consult with and networking in the business community at large. She had arranged to meet a particular gentleman who was to bring an additional, even more influential and powerful contact to introduce to Aliza, to discuss Internet strategy, public relations and media consulting opportunities. It was already dark outside by the time we settled into our hotel room for the night. The hotel room would be our home until we found a house to either rent or to purchase.

We were both tired and therefore a little cranky, and somehow got in a tiff over some paltry misunderstanding. The babysitter was scheduled to arrive soon so we had to put our differences aside, at least for the time being, so we could get ready. We’d decided to go out that first night just to relax and try to unwind from the stress of travel, and to soak up a bit of our new environment and hopefully our future home. It worked, temporarily at least. Though I took her hand in mine in a gesture of apology, the tension remained; and, unfortunately, the irritation soon turned into an argument again, and she pulled away from me, not wanting to make up.

I tried to reason but that didn’t work. I tried to apologize. That didn’t work either. I begged and pleaded, trying hard to make up; all to no avail. Finally, I decided to do something that I’d never done before. I would reveal a secret to her that was so private that no one on Earth but me knew about it. It was something that I had kept hidden from my childhood, and no one, not even my parents or best friends had ever found out. It was so private, and… so amazing, that when I thought about it, even I found it hard to believe or imagine. That’s why I did not think about it. I just did it when the spirit moved me.

“It just doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things!” I said in exasperation. I was shaking and breathing hard, subconsciously thinking about what I was about to reveal and wondering what kind of effect it would have on her. “It’s nothing. There are so many more important things in life to think or talk about.” My throat felt constricted and I heard my voice sounding higher and strained like the air slowly being squeezed out of a pinched balloon. “I can’t believe that we – anyone – wastes a moment of their breath arguing over such little things!”

All this did was serve to make her more angry. “It may not matter to you! But…”

At that, I turned and took three long strides toward her. When I reached her I grabbed her by the arm, thoroughly startling her, and pulled her roughly to me, nearly jerking her off the ground. Then I jammed my fist into the air and, together, we jetted into the sky with the force of a titan missile taking off, dragging her behind me in shocked silence and rigid with fright and awe.

I hollered into her ear, “Now this is important!” I chanced to glance at the top of her head but she was still staring down as the ground as it rapidly got farther and farther away. “This is something worth talking about. Everything else is just a pittally waste of time! Humanity is evolving to an entirely new level of consciousness. We can do things that people have only dreamed of doing in the past. Why do we waste time fighting about such stupid things!”

We raced higher and higher, toward the heavens, past the dark silhouettes of the giant cottonwoods that bounded the Yellowstone River that wound unhurriedly and sinuously through the badlands like a silvery serpent. The stars above us glittered like a million cut diamonds in a backdrop of pure obsidian. I was filled with the indescribable joy that I always feel when I fly; but this time it was even greater, having finally told someone my secret, having finally shared it with the one that I love more than any other. It felt as though the entire galaxy of stars joined me in reveling in my ecstasy. The entire history of the Universe, as ancient as it was, seemed to swirl through me in a matter of moments. And I was filled with all the hope and joy and sorrow of all humanity all at once.

Noa and I tagged along with Aliza the next morning because my work didn’t begin for several days and we didn’t really have anything else to do. We figured it would be a good opportunity for me to get to know some people outside my line of work, as well. I was happy to just go along and give Aliza moral support.

We talked quietly in the waiting room for the gentleman to arrive while Noa walked around the over-stuffed chairs and coffee table, pulling magazines off and tossing them to the floor. We acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place the night before. Occasionally Noa stumbled and bounced on the gray-green Berber carpet. Out of habit, I followed behind her picking up after her and making sure she didn’t rip any of the covers off the magazines. Aliza seemed relaxed, watching us, and focused on her inner thoughts. This could be a big client and worth a lot of money. And what did it mean to her now that she knew my secret?

After a few minutes, a tall, slender, well-dressed and broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties brushed hurriedly past us. He went directly to one of the closed, heavy wooden office doors, unlocked the shiny brass knob and went inside. The scent of his aftershave lingered as he disappeared and then reappeared a second later without his briefcase. “You must be Ms. Sherman Risdahl?” Aliza nodded, “And this is my husband, Greg, and our daughter Noa Grace.”

“Pleased to meet you all. Come in. Please, come in. So-in-so should be here in a minute. Sorry to keep you waiting. Did you have to wait long? I was stuck in another meeting. Thanks for coming.” His words rushed out of him as though he’d just sprinted the 100-yard dash. The heavy redwood desk and matching bookcases and overall expensive tidiness of the office smelled of money, big business and politics. Nevertheless, the space was comfortable in an oddly familiar sort of way.

“Nice office,” I said as I chased after Noa, catching her just before she reached one of the low bookshelves and began clearing it of the photos, knick-knacks and awards in gilt frames.
“Thanks. Want some coffee or something?

“No thanks, we just had a Starbucks,” Aliza said sounding and looking very professional, and very beautiful, as usual. I was pleased to be a part of her world even though it wasn’t one that I had ever imagined in my earlier life. No matter how different our worlds were while growing up, we belonged together. To me, our connection seemed ancient, as though we had known each other in some significant way during a past life or lives.

While taking a moment to daydream and revel in the excitement of a new adventure together, another older gentleman with dark graying hair strode in. He was dressed more sophisticatedly, in a dark gray, almost black suit with light pin stripes and wore shiny black loafers. His mannerisms were equally sophisticated and his etiquette thoroughly rehearsed. “Good afternoon.” He held out his hand to Aliza to shake and then looked to me to do the same. Just then Noa toddled out of the office. I nodded a quick greeting to the fellow in return. I hoped to convey my pleasure at his acquaintance, but at the same time needed to make him understand that my first responsibility lay with my young, curious year and a half old daughter who was headed out the door.

I started after her.

He stepped in front of me; oddly, blocking my path. “She will be fine,” he said, “Thelma, the secretary, will keep an eye on her.”

What could I do with this bold authority figure unexpectedly standing in front of me, stopping me from pursing my baby girl? I paused and straightened. There was that hand again, waiting to be shaken. I shook it. “I’m pleased to meet you.” My eyes darted past him to make sure that Noa Grace was not in any danger.

“Please sit down.” He spread his hands indicating two chairs to Aliza and me. “We’re so pleased to have people with your skills in our community.” He obviously meant Aliza. Not me. I worked for the government, and was as much a hindrance to his profession as he was to mine.

Feeling as though I was given a temporary release from the conversation, my eyes searched for Noa again. It was then that I became aware of a strange sense of foreboding. It crept into my being as though we were canoeing down a swift river and all of a sudden I could hear a waterfall rapidly approaching. I looked around, but there was nowhere to beach the canoe even if we could paddle fast enough to reach the shore in the first place. Panic sliced though me and I leapt up to run after Noa before she got hurt.

It felt as though I was plodding through a giant vat of honey. I could hardly move either my arms or legs; nor could I recognize my own voice. I reached down and scooped Noa up then pivoted in slow motion to run back to save Aliza too. My voice sounded like a tape recording that had been slowed down to half the normal speed. “B-a-a-a-a-d-d p-e-e-e-o-o-p-l-l-e!
M-u-u-u-s-t-t g-e-e-e-t-t o-u-u-u-t!”

Somehow I managed to grab Aliza’s hand and pull her to her feet. The men rushed toward us their hands outstretched before them like twin Frankensteins. As painfully slow as our flight was, I managed to outdistance the monsters that pursued us. Outside the building, we somehow managed to break free of the tractor beam that held us paralyzed in its sinister grasp. With Noa was wrapped tightly in my right arm and Aliza clinging to my left side, we skyrocketed into the air, leaving the evildoers far below.

Expressing Myself

We were sitting in a diner at the breakfast table and nearly done eating, but not quite, when she got up from the table and announced that she was going to the bridge on the north end of town to look at the rats with a lady she had met.

I waited for a minute expecting her to ask me to come along, or at least if it was okay to go, leaving Noa with me. She did neither. I was shocked into silence. Then she got up and left. I paid the bill and hurried after her. I spotted her outside on the patio from a distance and called out to her, “Stop! Wait a second!” before she left.

She looked perturbed when she looked back at me, but I had to say what was on my mind. I could not let the moment pass or it would be gone forever.

“Look, I have to tell you how I’m feeling about you going off like this,” I said. “I feel very hurt that you do not discuss with me the things you want to do. You tell me what you are going to do without any consideration for me or for Noa. In a relationship, it is important to always think of the other person as well as yourself. You are not showing me the respect I deserve as your husband when you do not consider how your actions will affect Noa or me.

Ultimately, what you are doing is cutting the tie between us. You are in essence saying you don’t care about us or what I think. If that’s how you feel, or what you want, you will cause a rift in our relationship that we may or may not be able to weather.

She stubbornly disagreed.

I also told her that if one person feels disrespected, ignored, or unimportant in a relationship that serious problems would eventually develop. She got angry and after a few more words left anyway.

I was in a quandary. My first thought was that I should go back to my room, pack my bags and take the next flight back to the US. I would leave her a note saying I’d gone home with Noa. I figured I might as well since I wasn’t doing her any good there; and it didn’t appear that she cared one way or another anyway.

But would that be too much of a punishment to her? I love her so much; but she has to learn, doesn’t she? It could backfire. Then what. I know that if she doesn’t learn and understand, our marriage will eventually fall apart. Reluctantly, I trudged back to our hotel room and started packing.

Flood

I was skeptical that the meeting I was on my way to attend was not canceled because I’d heard that the community had recently experienced some severe flooding. I was not surprised to find the house we were staying at mostly empty, except for a few suitcases and backpacks left there by other early attendees. Everyone seemed to have gone down to the river to help out, check out the extent of the damage or watch the rescue operations underway. Naturally, I followed suit and wandered toward the low ground and row of trees lining the river to see what was happening.

At the river, I was surprised to see that few people were actually helping. Most were just standing around watching from the sidelines. The waters had risen to just below the rooftops of the houses. Most of the local people were safe on high ground, but another concern quickly became apparent, namely, the lack of food for the refugees.

Seeing the lack of resourcefulness, with most people just standing around doing nothing, I decided to jump right in, literally, and do what I could. I leaped from the bank and grabbed onto a large tree limb that hung out over the water. I swung far out over the river. The branch broke, but I continued to soar, making a wide circle around the flooded houses, getting a bird’s eye view of the flooded community.

I looked for the most likely places food and survival gear might be located. I selected an area and circled back around, coming in low over the water and scudding along the surface like a rider on a jet ski. As I pulled up to the spot that I’d selected during my reconnaissance flight, I sank back into the water to about chest height and then swam over.

Earlier I had been watching a short assembly line of rescue workers ineffectually carting odds-and-ends of things from some of the swamped homes. Hoping that I’d have better luck, I took a deep breath and dove beneath the water and swam for the door of the submerged house. The door was unlocked so I opened it and went inside. There, I found a large cache of food and began bringing it to the surface. Others soon joined me in helping carry the supplies to dry ground.

Parking Meter Monkey

“Hey, look over there!” I pointed down the street. We were taking a walk in a small, quaint town to stretch our legs after having driven in Aliza's RV for several hours.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It looks like a monkey.”

“What would a monkey be doing here?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go take a look.” We quickened our pace before the monkey got spooked and ran off. To my surprise, however, as we neared the animal, it remained calm, clinging to a parking meter cemented into the sidewalk. “Wow! This is really weird. It looks to me like it’s replacing the parking meters in this section of downtown. Talk about smart monkeys!” I motioned to the row of parking meters that continued down the sidewalk. All of them had the heads removed.

“I guess that goes to show just how smart you need to be to work for the city,” Aliza laughed.

“But these meters are strange. They don’t look like any parking meters I’ve ever seen before.” I looked down at the monkey who seemed to be watching me with mild curiosity. I held out my arms. “Come here girl.” To my surprise, she reached out and hopped right into my arms like a young child might. “She’s sure friendly.”

“Boy, I’ll say,” Aliza said, nodding her head.

“How are you sweet girl?” I asked, smiling at my new friend’s furry, gray-black face.” She looked up at me with soft, brown intelligent eyes. I could feel the warmth of her body against mine. Her body language told me that she was quite content cradled in my arms. “Wow, she’s really sweet.” I glanced over at Aliza who was watching transfixed. “I wonder what she’s doing out here all alone.”

I bent closer to examine the parking meters. Then I looked back at my new little friend again. “I think she’s a she; and I think she’s a bonobo, not a chimp. She’s built more lightly than a chimp, and she seems to have a straighter build.” I tuned back to the parking meter. “What kind of meters are these anyway?” I said, talking mostly to myself. “Hmm… You know what I think? I think these are artificial nests.”

“You do?” Aliza said, sounding as if I’d lost my mind once and for all.

“I’m serious. I think this is a monkey nest.” I pointed to the ‘head’ of the meter, which was divided in half, with top and bottom halves that pivoted in the middle. “See here, she backs up to this hole in the side and has the baby by pushing it directly into this hole.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No, really, I think this is a monkey nest. The baby stays inside where she is safe while the mother goes to eat and then brings back food for the baby or to nurse it. Then when the baby is big enough, the top is opened so that the baby can get out. It’s really quite clever.”

“Uh-huh.” Aliza rolled her eyes.

It was clear to me that she didn’t buy my artificial monkey nest idea. To be honest, I thought it was a little far-fetched myself. But that’s what it looked like to me. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to leave the monkey there by itself. She seemed so content. I felt a strong attachment to her already, like she was already a part of the family. She was so soft and warm, cuddled into my arms like a baby.