Page 34

Falcons and Frolicking

I reckon it’s unusual to not have much family.

No mama. No daddy. No brothers and sisters to speak of.

No cousins. Uncles. Aunts. Unless you count Aunt Huni’s people in the Philippines.

Some of them come to visit every now and again—not often.

Aunt Huni is quieter when they do, and seems happier when they’re gone.

I found out when I was a little girl of no more than six or seven that my mama had been estranged from most of her family, ’cept for her own mother who she’d reluctantly talk to every now and again.

Now that I’m a full grown adult, I know there had to be some deep hurt in her.

Somethin’ that made Mama sick to her stomach, or her head hurt with worry.

Something happened to cause that, and according to Aunt Huni, it was due to a lack of respect, and some things about crabs in a barrel.

Evidently my mama was different from her sisters, and most of the family.

She didn’t care about traditional things, religion, and whatnot.

She loved Jesus, but didn’t see fit to tell others what to do about their own relationship with the Lord and Savior.

She wasn’t judgmental, but was a little put off by bad manners, accordin’ to Aunt Huni.

She was one of the few in the family with a college education, and was called uppity by some of them and her childhood friends, who believed she thought herself better than everyone else.

I didn’t know my mama to be able to say if there was any validity to that or not, but Aunt Huni said there wasn’t.

She said, ‘Your family was jealous of your mother.’ All I know is, after all of these years, I don’t recall nobody comin’ for me.

Nobody asking to see about their niece, cousin, or whatnot.

’Cept for one time, when Huni said they wanted to know if she was getting money for taking care of me.

If so, they were willing to take her to court over it.

Once they found out Mama had scant savings, they dropped that issue altogether.

Huni said Mama didn’t make no big announcement about cuttin’ them loose.

She just did. New number. New house with no forwarding address. New life.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get a new body.

Mama died of heart disease. She was a nurse, but missed the signs.

She was working too hard, not eating right, and was under a tremendous amount of stress.

After she’d enrolled back in college to become a Chief Nursing Officer, she guzzled coffee like water, drank energy drinks, popped caffeine pills, and burned the candle at both ends just to stay awake and make it.

She was an excellent nurse, always helpin’ everyone else.

In the midst of all this, she was raising a baby with no husband.

Huni said, towards the end, it seemed sometimes my mama would say things, as though she could sense she was going to die young.

Nobody knew she was sick until it was too late, but she was talkin’ as if her soul was aware of what was to come.

Perhaps that was why she was so hellbent on creating life.

Something inside of her said that if she ever wanted to experience it, she’d better go on ahead and do it before it was too late.

Aunt Huni says often that I look like my mama, and I have a lot of her mannerisms, too.

Mama left me in good hands, and I’m grateful for that.

To me, she is a warm whisper in my ear, in the middle of the night.

She’s a blanket pulled over me, weighted down with love and shine.

She’s a tiny flower dancin’ in the summer breeze.

I feel nothin’ but love for a woman I barely remember, but knowing that I was wanted by her, being her deepest wish before she departed from this earth, somehow, some way, makes me feel okay.

Like I can live with the short time we had together.

…Knowin’ that I can never be lost in the woods, no matter how deep I run into the forest abyss, because she’ll guide the way. I’m never fully alone…

Poet felt a swelling in her gut—a strange delight as all cylinders of peace turned on bright and crackled in awakening.

She loved evening walks, but rarely got to indulge.

She tried to keep up with Kage, but he was fast. His legs were long.

And he was on a mission. In Kage’s defense, he kept pausing, allowing her chances to catch up.

He never got too far away without these reprieves, and occasionally asked if she was okay.

She found herself looking at a pair of shiny, dark eyes low to the ground. Probably a kangaroo rat.

She set her eyes on the back of him as he pushed forward.

It was almost as if the forest was making way for him, bending as he approached.

His shoulders rolled like a cat’s, or perhaps a wolf’s when it was out on the prowl.

He was a big fortress with hair blowing lightly in the evening wind.

Wisps of blond, streaked with silver that reminded her of lightning.

Now, he was only a couple steps ahead, and when he waited for her this time, he offered his hand.

She glanced at the long fingers, covered in rings made of silver, gold and copper.

Skulls and dragons, then took told of his hand.

It was cool to the touch, rough, and yet comforting.

Poet found herself lost in thought about him and this place, stumbling over brush and broken branches.

The moon was a mere sliver, shyly hiding behind clusters of dark clouds.

Once they’d waded through a few more bushes and navigated past looming trees, Kage dropped a small duffle bag that had been slung across his shoulder, and placed his finger to his lips.

Amongst the shrieking of the boughs, she heard him say, “Shhh…”

He motioned for her to drop to her knees, and they kneeled side by side, as if in prayer. And that’s when she noticed it. Ahead of them was definitely something that looked like the den for perhaps bobcats. It was carved out of the darkness, framed by dense undergrowth.

She sniffed the air—yes, she was right. The odor was definitely ammonia.

Cat piss. She studied the den—it was edged with downed logs and a melee of wild vegetation.

Copious areas of curved, thick-trunked trees were all around it, too.

Kage turned off the dim light he’d clipped onto his jacket that helped lead the way.

Now, they were in total darkness. Nothing but rough patches of violet, navy blue, and the blackest black she’d ever seen. Just then, she heard a rustling sound.

Kage slowly stood to his full height and made a whistling noise. She remained crouched down to the cool ground. He gently tapped his foot, then made a clicking racket with his teeth. Slowly, a large ruddy-colored bobcat emerged from the brush. Her light amber eyes glowed like flames.

“Persia…” he whispered in a soft, sing-song voice.

He dropped down a little and turned his light back on, but this time on a low setting.

The cat’s big eyes narrowed. Poet’s heart nearly beat out of her chest, an incredible fervor swarming from every blood cell in her being.

Kage reached out his hand to the cat, and Persia made a low murmur, then bumped her head against his large, tattooed knuckles.

Poet’s eyes watered in amazement as Persia the cat did it again, the sounds she made—affectionate and warm.

Persia paused then, lifting her head high as she eyed her—her attention fully focused on Poet. The cat growled, then hissed.

“Persia… No.” Kage’s tone was louder now. Commanding, but he wasn’t shouting. “It’s not you… it’s the babies. She doesn’t know you yet.”

“I know.”

Persia began to relax once he started scratching behind her ears, reassuring her.

It wasn’t long before three kittens emerged from the den, all but one had that same odd yet beautiful reddish color.

Bobcats typically came in tones of brown, some even with reddish undertones, but this was a truly rich, dark red—the color of wine.

Astounding and rare. Besides their unusual coloring, Persia and her kittens had the typical dark brown spots and stripes, predominantly along their flanks.

“It’s her… it’s really her.” Her heart frolicked with elation. “These are the colorful bobcats folks have been talkin’ about.”

“Persia has had many babies, and at least one in each litter is this beautiful shade. She feels safe here, so she stays on my property. She knows I look out for her.”

“How old is she, and how many kittens would you say she’s had in total?”

“Oh, if I were to guess her age and how long I’ve seen ’er, I’d guess her to be ’round four.

I don’t know the exact number of kittens, but she’s had ’bout three pregnancies, each litter having at least three kittens that I’m aware of.

She hunts in peace for the most part. There’s a couple of mountain lions she and her kittens have to look out for, though. ”

“Really? Have you seen them up close?”

“Yup. Had to fire a warnin’ shot. I stay out of their way, and they stay outta mine. It’s funny… nature is the playbook, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we followed nature, we as humans would be fine. Like those mountain lions. They don’t wanna fuck with me, and I don’t wanna fuck with them.

They know I live here. They’re not interested in me.

They want the rabbits, rats and squirrels.

They’ll go for a bobcat, too, as you know, but prefer the bobcat kittens since they’re easier to take down.

I’ve been close enough to ’em to smell them.

Mountain lions smell pungent. Kinda musky. ”

She nodded and smiled. “Yeah, they do. It’s a strong scent. Barnyard like.”