Читать книгу Parktails - Douglas G. Campbell - Страница 9

Each species has its own funeral customs. Coyotes sing sorrowful laments at sunset, bison conduct ritual stampedes, and eagles circle high into the clouds above. Skunks are a somber lot, so they are not given to elaborate public demonstrations of grief. Dozema’s body had already been placed on a flat stone high above in Willow Meadow, just below Spiny Ridge, not more than a hundred yards from Stony Burrow. I for one was happy that the wind was coming from the south, so the odor of the deceased was blown away from the assembled crowd in Willow Meadow. Willow Meadow is not easy to get to, you seldom see people there since it is far from any trail or path. It is ideally suited for large gatherings because of its size and privacy. Hundred of animals had already arrived and more were emerging from the nearby forest. Tourists would complain today that wildlife was non-existent, but that was not true. Several squads of deer, ground squirrels, and others were at the most popular tourist sites.

Each species has its own way of showing respect for the dead. Zornova and the bison Tennial were caked with mud, for it was their custom to roll in a muddy bog in preparation for a funeral. Cawdor, along with the other ravens cried loudly from the tops of tall firs. Their dissonant laments cast a somber pall across the meadow and surrounding ridges. Wanda flitted about the meadow flowers until she was exhausted and landed on the uncomfortable thorns of a thistle pod, in the manner of grieving moths. As you may know raccoons, to honor the dead, sit still as though they were statues carved from stone. This is extremely difficult for raccoons. We always feel better when we are in motion; long periods of stillness lead to discomfort.

Skeezer, the oldest of the skunks, gave a shrill whistle; the ravens ceased their atonal dies ire, moths settled on thistle pods, and movement ceased; it was time for the ceremony. Soon stillness and quiet reigned in Willow Meadow and we were ready to begin.

For what seemed like hours, but was less than fifteen minutes, all of the animals assembled stopped moving and became respectfully quiet. Rutorina, Dozema’s daughter, began whistling an eerie and haunting dirge. Next, Zornova paced slowly up to a small hillock. She stared out over the crowd of animals filling the meadow, and she began her brief eulogy.

Dozema, the star dancer,

looks down upon us now

to give us the answer.

She knows now the life

after dark life, dark death

after duty and daily strife.

We too will also travel

to the life that follows

death upon the roadside gravel.

Dozema, the star dancer,

who saved the child

gives us the answer.

At the end of the eulogy all the birds flew up into the air. Each cried out creating a raucous cacophony of high-pitched sounds that enveloped us as it descended earthward. Small rodents, the ground squirrels, mice, and prairie dogs, skittered about in nervous and frenetic dances of jubilation until they fell exhausted upon the grassy field. The ungulates circled about the meadow five times then trailed out of Willow Meadow towards Shooting Star Meadow, where the celebration of joy would soon begin.

As the ungulates began to circle we noticed the smell of smoke. A few minutes later roiling, black, ash-laden smoke began to drift over the meadow. It was indeed a black day. As soon as Zornova stepped down from the hillock and the funeral was over Gondzor landed, for he had risen up with the other birds.

“Zornova!” cried Gondzor, “a vast fire is approaching. Right now it is coming slowly from the north, but as the wind picks up this afternoon it will gain speed. I have sent Quququic and the others to warn all those who live throughout the Geyser District. Jet has flown back to headquarters to inform Thimblewicket of the approaching danger. Thimblewicket has been instructed to find out as much as she can from other districts and Cruise will return soon with a long range scouting report.”

“Very good Gondzor,” replied Zornova. “Blinkers, stop wringing your paws. I need you to write messages to be sent to those in danger. Gondzor, I will head for the Geyser District Ranger Station; I want you to take charge in the outlying districts to the north since you can spread the word more quickly than I. Also, since the fire has already reached the northern part of the district you can take charge of the injured. Tennial can take charge of the east. Alexia, you can take charge of the west. Keeble, since you are also swift, you shall warn those who live in the path of the fire.”

Cruise, no longer molting, flew towards us just as Zornova completed her instructions. He reported that the fire extended over several thousand acres between the river and the highway. Zornova quickly dispatched her staff. Then, just as quickly, she dictated several messages for Menki, the eagle, to deliver to other district rangers. By the time Zornova had finished, the sky was almost completely black with smoke. It was time to leave.

Zornova stepped back up onto the hillock and bellowed for quiet, then she said “All of us must flee from this fire. All of you follow Keeble over Fir Cone ridge, and then keep going down the opposite slope towards the ranger station. Larger animals must give smaller and slower animals rides on their backs. Remain calm; there is plenty of time for all of us to escape to safety. We can stay ahead of the fire if we remain calm, if we don’t lose our heads.”

Zornova moved away from the hillock and began directing various animals to help each other. All who had come for Dozema’s funeral in Willow Meadow were soon moving towards Fir Cone Ridge in an orderly manner.

“Get up on my Back Blinkers, Zornova ordered, “we need to get to headquarters quickly.”

Soon I was bumping along while holding on to Zornova’s thick fur. I have never liked bison-back riding, but I’ve had to do it on several occasions when dire emergencies occurred. Three years ago, for instance, the bison Tennial fell into a mud hole and could not get out. Zornova raced to the scene with me holding onto her fur as tightly as I could. Then Zornova demonstrated that she could be quite resourceful. She shoved a log over to the edge of the mud hole with her head. Then I had to walk out on the log, tie the rope around both of Tennial’s horns and then walk back along the log. All was going well until Tennial lurched while I was on the log and I went flying up into the air, then splat right into the mud. Fortunately for me I landed near the edge, so I scrabbled out without assistance. Well I thought my fur would never be the same after that. Oh how was I ever going to wash out that sulfurous slime? Well anyway, Zornova pulled Tennial out, though it did take some time, for Tennial is a large bison.

“Blinkers, you can climb down now,” Zornova repeated.

Oh me, I must have closed my eyes again. I often do that when I go bison-back riding. I close my eyes so I won’t think about falling off. And when I close my eyes I don’t pay attention any more. And it has happened again, and Zornova is standing patiently in front of the Geyser District headquarters, waiting for me to climb down from her back. Oh I am such a scaredy-tourist. I am surely no thrill seeker, not me.

I followed Zornova up the steps, through the outer office into her large office. Though bison, in general, are afraid of fire (they tend to stampede), Zornova maintained her calm demeanor. She stood behind a large table scanning the reports scattered over most of its surface.

“Blinkers,” she said, “go check with Thimblewicket to find out if any new reports have come in since these arrived. Also, see if you can find Rittiticket so he can help Thimblewicket with the flurry of dispatches,” she added.

“Yes Zornova, I will certainly do that, I will check with Thimblewicket, I will find Rittiticket to help Thimblewicket. I will do all of what you say right away; I will do it this very instant, I will get right on it . . .”

“Blinkers!” Zornova bellowed.

She seldom roared. What could have put her out of sorts I wonder?

“Yes, Zornova,” I replied, trying not to let on how hurt I was that she had bellowed at me. “What do you want?”

“Blinkers you seem to be standing still when we have many urgent demands upon us.” Zornova spoke much more calmly now.

“Yes Zornova.” I had almost forgotten about the fire, Thimblewicket, Rittiticket and all that. I had not realized that I was wringing my paws again and that my feet had not moved even one inch closer to the door. “Oh, I am so sorry, I must apologize Zornova. I am so ashamed of myself, at a time like this, for acting as though my feet are nailed to the floor like I have.”

“Blinkers!”

I was finally able to move and I soon found that my legs had taken me down the hall to dispatch central. Thimblewicket thrust a paw full of hastily scribbled messages at me through an open window, then slammed down the window and continued writing furiously. I went straight back to Zornova’s office and laid the messages out carefully in the order that they had arrived. Oh, but they were such a mess of scribbles. This will never do, I said to myself, I must make up a memo about penanimalship for the office staff. Really there is no excuse for such messy writing. As I was mentally composing my memo on penanimalship I hurried back out of the headquarters building, across the open yard in front of the district headquarters towards Rittiticket’s tree stump.

“Rittiticket, are you home? Rittiticket! Oh Rittiticket wake up and come out here!” I shouted down his hole as loudly as I could.

Soon a grumpy, sleepy-eyed Rittiticket peered out into the bright, though quickly darkening, day

“What’s the ruckus? What’s all this yelling and shouting about? I say Blinkers, you had best mind your manners or I’ll file a complaint. Just because you are district secretary—well you have no special rights,” he sputtered.

“Rittiticket, do be quiet,” I snapped self-righteously. “This is an emergency. There is no time at all for complaints and making nasty faces like that. Zornova sent me to fetch you. You must come help Thimblewicket, for there is a great fire and she is being overwhelmed with dispatches; you should just see the awful scribbling she has sent Zornova. Really there is no excuse for such poor penanimalship.”

But before I could finish all that I had to say Rittiticket had skittered past me, as fast as he could, towards the district headquarters. Meanwhile the sky had become blacker and ash was beginning to drift down from above. Deer, porcupines, bison, elk, ground squirrels, and others were engaged in a flurry of activity. Pudge, the marmot, was busy tying shovel attachments to the hooves of bison and elk. These bison and elk would attempt to dig a shallow trench to stop the fire. Deer were packed with top priority files from the ranger headquarters and sent on their way to a temporary headquarters. We had just learned that a wind shift had occurred; we were now directly in the path of the surging, uncoiling flames. Squirrels and jays were sent to hurry the evacuation of the immediate vicinity, to warn all of the forest dwellers that they must leave at once. Soon though, I was back at my desk writing messages that Zornova was dictating over the intercom.

Since all of the messages, in and out, went through me I was beginning to get a picture of how widespread the damage was. The fire was now engulfing three districts; at least twenty percent of Lake, Potholes, and Geyser districts were burning or already blackened. The weather forecast called for more wind towards evening, and we had not had rainfall for three weeks, except for that light drizzle the day of our committee meeting, so the prospect for a quick end to the fire was not good. Zornova worked swiftly and efficiently directing the evacuation of the dead and wounded; she provided instructions for fire fighting parties, and calmly provided leaders for those who must flee or be consumed by the inferno. Even now gusts of wind spread ashes and set dust devils swirling across the clearing outside the station. Thirty-four thousand acres had already been consumed.

“Blinkers!” came through the intercom from Zornova’s offices. “The fire may soon reach us. It is time for us to pack up and leave. I have sent for Cawdor to lead the office staff safely away from the blaze. Blinkers, you and I have another task, so we will not be traveling with the rest of the office staff.”

“Yes, Zornova,” I answered, knowing that this would undoubtedly involve more bison-back riding. I walked, as calmly as I could, from my office down the hall past other offices; I stopped at each office to ask all office staffers to assemble on the front porch. Once they were assembled, I announced that it was time to leave and that Cawdor would lead them to safety.

Soon Thimblewicket, Rittiticket, Pudge, and others were moving quickly along the narrow trail leading westward towards Trout Lake. Cawdor flew above the fleeing office workers, cawing as he went to assure them that the way was clear. Zornova is such a good leader, she had remained calm and in control in spite of this horrendous calamity. There had been minimal panic because Zornova’s quiet strength gave everyone confidence and hope.

Flames were now visible atop Marmot Ridge; they would soon engulf the ranger station here in Prairie Dog Vale. I was just about to fetch Zornova when she emerged through the doors.

“Look Zornova,” I wailed, “the fire has reached the ridge top and it will soon be upon us.”

Zornova ignored my fear. “Get back aboard, Blinkers,” she said calmly “I still need your help. Skeezer, Rutorina, and the other skunks in Dozema’s skaggle are traditionalists, so in spite of the fire they are stubbornly following their practice of silently mourning the deceased for two days. They are in immediate danger, and we are the only ones available to rescue them.

I clamored up onto Zornova’s shaggy back. Skunks! Wouldn’t you just know they would pull something like this. Well, everyone knows that skunks are loyal and that they honor their dead by standing silently mourning the deceased for two days. They must also fast for these two days. Oh what shall we do I wondered, as we bounced towards Willow Meadow. I could not keep my eyes closed all the time now, for the smoke made me cough and sputter. We made it through Broken Fir Gap just ahead of the fire. Oh my goodness, we were heading directly towards the fire.

“Oh Zornova,” I whined. “How shall we ever survive? You can’t just expect to trot through the fire unharmed.”

“Be calm, Blinkers,” she answered, “we will drop downhill soon and follow Stonecrop Creek through the fire. But we must be quick, and we must hold our breaths through the worst of it. So be ready. And you must let me know if my fur catches on fire.

Almost before I could catch my breath, Zornova turned and rushed down the steep slope towards Stonecrop Creek, jumping over fallen trees, swerving and weaving between trees and boulders. I felt some sympathy now for rodeo cowboys as I hung on tightly. Then Zornova shouted “Now!” I gulped in a lungful of air and held my breath. Soon my lungs felt like they would burst and my heart pounded vigorously as Zornova clattered over the rocks of Stonecrop Creek. Zornova stumbled and lurched forward, so I went flying over her neck and horns into the creek. Just as I struggled up onto her back a burning tree crashed into the streambed behind us, narrowly missing Zornova’s hind end. Steam and crackling engulfed us. But Zornova undeterred slogged forward through the shallows of Stonecrop Creek. Both of us were coughing and sputtering as we breathed in the smoke-filled air.

Fortunately, we soon passed from the smoke and flames into the smoldering forest beyond, left charred and black from the fire. Zornova continued following the creek; although it was slow going we could avoid the worst of the smoke. Silence surrounded us. No bird song, no skittering of small feet through the leaves and litter interrupted the quiet. Only rock and barren tree trunks remained to guard our passage. Suddenly the silence was interrupted as a tree crashed down to our right as the roots gave way. After what seemed like an endless ride through the blackened forest, we left Stonecrop Creek, climbed up over Fir Cone Ridge, and headed down again into Willow Meadow. The flames had skipped the meadow, which remained green and normal. But at any moment smoldering embers might be dropped by the wind and the whole meadow could flare up and burn quickly. Skeezer, Rutorina, and seven other skunks could be seen on the far side of the meadow. As we drew closer we could hear their whistle-like chant.

“Skeezer!” shouted Zornova, as we approached the skaggle of skunks.

“Yes, Zornova, what is it,” answered Skeezer, obviously annoyed at the interruption of their sacred funeral rite.

“You must all come at once or there will be nine more skunk funerals to attend. A huge fire is burning out of control, and you must all leave. You have been fortunate so far, as Willow Meadow has been spared, but that could change any moment,” said Zornova, with both authority and control.

As Zornova spoke flames could be seen atop Fir Cone Ridge. The wind had shifted again and would drive the flames towards us. Smoke was already billowing towards us across the open meadow.

“Oh, all right Zornova, but which way should we go?” answered Skeezer. Perhaps the approaching flames and billowing smoke had been more convincing than Zornova’s words.

Before Zornova could speak Menki, the eagle, swooped down and landed on a nearby stump.

“Zornova, there is no time to explain, you must travel up over Spiny Ridge, then go down across the highway,” said Menki, who was almost out of breath.

I hopped down from Zornova’s back. “You don’t need to carry me now,” I said, “I can easily keep up with the skunks.”

Zornova took the lead while I brought up the rear. As you can imagine, it was hard to keep nine skunks moving. Even though we were in great danger from the fire they could not resist hesitating to overturn rocks and fallen branches in search of nuts, pinecones, and other edibles. Soon we were all out of breath from the climb. We looked back only to see that the fire had consumed most of Willow Meadow and would soon reach the base of the ridge we had just ascended. After a short minute’s rest we scrabbled quickly down the other side. Soon we reached a faint trail, which allowed us to quicken our pace. But Spritzer, the youngest skunk, and Skeezer, the oldest, were beginning to tire.

“Zornova,” I cried from the rear of our procession, “Skeezer and Spritzer are tiring rapidly. Could you give them a ride?”

Zornova retraced her steps towards us and then knelt down as the two ungainly skunks scrabbled up onto her back. All of us were now able to quicken our pace. The underbrush became thicker and thicker as we descended the far side of Spiny Ridge. Zornova charged through the underbrush helping to clear the path as we struggled through the tangle of shrubby plants and vines. I could not help but notice that she was bleeding in several places from wounds made by sharp limbs that had pierced her fur and skin. We kept on at this faster pace for what seemed like hours. Then suddenly Zornova halted. It was a moment before we could all catch our breath. Soon Zornova turned toward us and whispered, “Skeezer and Spritzer you must climb down from my back immediately. There are firefighters coming through the trees towards us. We will find a gap between them, but they still may see us, so we must look as we are expected to look. Just over the next small rise is the highway, so no more talking until we cross the highway and are out of earshot of the humans.”

Skeezer and Spritzer dismounted as best they could. Again we headed on through the underbrush. Below us and to our right a squad of firefighters was starting a backfire in an attempt to contain the blaze before it reached the highway. I think two of them may have seen us, so it was good that Skeezer and Spritzer were not bison-back riding. That might have seemed a bit odd, even under the present dire circumstances. People just never give us any credit for our intelligence. We moved on down and over the small rise before Zornova stopped us several hundred yards from the highway.

“Blinkers, you go ahead and find us a good place to cross the highway, someplace where there are no fire trucks or cars,” whispered Zornova.

So down I went following a small streamlet that dribbled merrily down the rocky, brush covered slope. The sounds I heard as I approached the highway did not bode well. As soon as I was close enough I climbed a tree, only to discover a major traffic jam on the highway that stretched out below me. Cars, campers, and vans were bumper-to-bumper, moving southward very slowly. This was not good. How could our tired group of skunks make it across this crowded highway? I looked both south and north trying to find some alternative route. Then I recognized the bridge crossing over the south fork of Spiny Creek, about three hundred yards to the north. That bridge was high enough that even Zornova could fit beneath it. Quickly but carefully I climbed back down from my evergreen perch before I rushed back up the hill to report to Zornova.

“So you see,” I said, breathing rapidly “we must go north, and then go under the bridge that crosses the south fork of Spiny Creek. Even you can fit beneath that bridge, and Skeezer, Spritzer, Rutorina, and the others can avoid the highway, which is just packed with tourists in their vans, campers, and cars.”

“Good thinking, Blinkers,” interrupted Zornova “let’s get going. I will feel much better once we are on the other side of the highway.”

Soon we were making our way beneath the bridge. Zornova had only a couple of inches clearance, but was able to pick her way along the creek as it flowed under the bridge. The honking cars and the sirens made the skunks nervous. They had to be soothed so they wouldn’t raise their tails and spray in response to their fear. Once we reached the edge of the forest beyond the highway we climbed up out of the creek bed. The skunks became calmer, but Skeezer began to complain that his legs ached and Spritzer whined and complained that his paws hurt. The rest of the skunks looked a bit bedraggled as well. It was then that Zornova announced that she knew of a safe haven for us.

“We are not far from Big Sky Lake. Skeezer and Spritzer, you may climb up on my back again. We must hurry on to Beaver Island; there is no time to waste.”

Wearily Skeezer and Spritzer ascended the slope of Zornova’s back. Some of the other skunks grumbled, mumbling that they were tired too. But they all hurried on as best they could as the smoke moved across the sky to block out the sun. It was another two miles to Big Sky Lake, and then another half mile beyond that to Beaver Island. I made a mental note to cross skunk herding off my list of possible career alternatives.