WEEKLY 5
Make a list of memorable encounters you’ve had with an animal (not a pet) or insect.
Choose one of the encounters and write down all the details you can remember about it, pushing for specific details.
If you were going to write a piece based on that memory or experience, what might a possible first sentence be?
Make a list of memorable encounters you’ve had with an animal (not a pet) or insect.
Choose one of the encounters and write down all the details you can remember about it, pushing for specific details.
If you were going to write a piece based on that memory or experience, what might a possible first sentence be?
1.
There is a series of three animal encounters I
associate with one person, My Favorite Person, my ex-boyfriend Miles, a Winnebago
Indian. They call their own people Ho-Chunk. On one occasion we were driving in
the San Bernardino Mountains, the only time we were there together and though I
grew up visiting those mountains frequently, and for several weeks at a time, I
had never seen a large mammal there, ever. I’d seen squirrels and stellar jays
and lizards and other birds. I’d seen insects galore, primarily mosquitos. But
the one time I was there with Miles we saw a large coyote by the side of the
road, walking along toward us. I am completely sure this was not a dog. Miles asked me
to stop and I did. We both got out of the car and the coyote continued walking
toward us calmly and fearlessly as if it was an intended meeting. Another time,
we went to Yellowstone National Park. It was my first time there and the first
place we went was to see Old Faithful. When we got out of the car there was a
small crowd of people, but there was also a lone buffalo who was allowing people
(including me) to approach quite closely. It was as if this buffalo was serving
as a guide to the park. I should mention that with Miles I saw more wildlife
than I ever dreamed I would see in my life. Eagles and hawks, once a turkey
vulture soaring majestically on thermals above Dead Horse Point. Mountain Goat
in the Cottonwoods Canyon, Mountain sheep in the south. Deer, antelope, elk and
moose I also learned to see in Miles company. There were many more, but the two
animals above named and a third, a red dragonfly, have a sort of supernatural
feel to me. The dragonfly I associate with Miles because I took him to South
Dakota to prepare for a Sundance,. He wanted to do Hamblecheya, a vision quest, part of which is determining one’s Spirit Animal. We were later than he thought
and the Sundance was to be held in a couple of days, so I was able to see this
ceremony which moved me very deeply. Miles believed his Spirit Animal was the
dragonfly. We parted when I moved to Santa Clara from Holladay. He was going to
come with me, but he never did. He called once and again, I thought he was
coming, but he did not. I thought he might have stayed in Salt Lake for his
daughter but I later learned he disappeared and no one I know has heard from
him. But periodically I see a large red dragonfly and you may think me crazy, but it seems that on each occasion it does odd things which draws my attention
and it stays until I leave.
2.
I once went to a grocery store in Southern
California with my brother. Uncharacteristically I was driving. We were in my
green Mustang. After we finished shopping, we went back out to the car and I
must have been in a hurry because I was in the car and about to start it when
my brother yelled at me to stop. I did, immediately. (Was I planning on him
entering a moving car?) Watching him in the rearview mirror he bent down and
when he got into the car he said, “Look.” There was a hummingbird in his hand.
He said it was wedged in behind a rear tire and if I had moved at all I would
have killed it. Now, we were always trying to save things, birds usually
unsuccessfully. There was a pet shop in that shopping center and we went in to
inquire. We came out with hummingbird nectar which we made as soon as we got
home. The hummingbird actually ate it, licking our palms delicately with its long
transparent tubular tongue. We fed it often over the course of the day and the
next day till we took it outside and it flew away!
3.
I had a thoroughbred ex polo pony. She was a
black mare and I named her Ember. She was very beautiful, but detached. She was very well trained and responsive, but I was looking
for a friend in a horse and she was more-businesslike. I thought I would try
breeding her to see if that would affect her personality. I chose a leopard
appaloosa stallion, his name was War Don. He had a lovely, calm disposition and
a nice conformation. His owner told me he was an easy breeder but rather tepid
about the process. I wondered how the breeding might go. Ember brooked no
advances from the geldings and they had long since ceased to trouble her,
preferring Cherie, my other mare. When I took Ember to the stallion for
breeding I was electrified by how quickly they noticed each other- before
sighting. Both horses were extremely excited and very beautiful when they were
brought together. It was one of the most erotic things I ever saw. The
stallion’s owner was very surprised at the ardor of his horse. I knew walking
away that Ember was pregnant but I brought her back the next day for another
breeding just to see that dance again.
4.
In Jr high I took a class called Animal Care. I
loved animals and this class was a boon to me. When I was younger I would tease
my mother to drive me to a nearby dairy so I could look at, and smell the cows.
I loved being near animals, any kind, though the city I had grown up in was so
removed from nature that our school would periodically hire a large truck,
filled with a variety of farm animals to visit our completely blacktopped
school. In this Animal Care class, I had an echo of this experience. The
presenter loosed a flock of ducklings into a room full of seated seventh
graders. All the ducklings converged on me and arranged themselves around me
for the remainder of their stay. I was the duckling magnet. I loved it
5.
I kept tropical fish. I loved learning about
them and at various times had large tanks full of fish, both fresh water and
salt. When I moved into my first apartment I took one 26 gallon tank. One day I
came home and found that the bottom glass had broken and there was wet carpet, gravel , plants and desiccating fish all over the floor. I was lost. For
some reason I called my brother and he came very quickly. He told me I should
prepare water and put those fish, which were mostly dried and, I thought, completely dead into buckets while he went for another aquarium. I couldn't
tell you now why I did it. I think it is something like clapping for
Tinkerbelle to come back to life at the end of Peter Pan. It could be that I
just didn't want to disappoint my brother’s faith. But I did and most of those
fish revived! I really thought they were all dead. The blue acaras, I remember,
were even more beautiful after the ordeal.
6.
Chauncey was my horse cat. He was a long-haired
rather diminutive cat who projected a big and friendly spirit. He loved coming
with me to feed the horses or to watch the hay deliveries be bucked into place.
Chauncey was also a mighty hunter. He picked off my neighbor’s rooftop pigeon
population with greedy regularity and he liked to bring his victims alive, through the doggie door. If I didn't catch him there and disturb the process, his kill spot was down the hall right at my game closet. Many were the times
when I would hear the flutter of wings and go careening down the hall trying to
prevent the death of some hapless pigeon. I lost respect for pigeons seeing how
easily they died. Birds that looked completely viable to me, once rescued,
often died anyway just, it seemed, to spite my efforts. It was so common an
occurrence that I would look down the hall and sometimes see a freshly
dispatched victim. If it was dead I learned to just leave it for a while because it was
Chauncey’s delight to eat his prey. If left, he would reduce it to feet and
feathers. Not a skull, beak or bone would be left, only feet and feathers and I
confess I found clean-up much less gruesome this way than earlier options.
One day I heard a commotion at the end of the hall and it
sounded so vigorous that I had hope of rescue. I ran to the spot, and there was
nothing. No Chauncey, no pigeon. It had seemed so real, I found it difficult to
believe I had imagined it, but maybe I was getting paranoid. I had tried
everything I could think of to curb Chauncey’s hunting. He wore a bell on a
breakaway collar. I had consulted the vet to see if declawing him would save
the pigeons. She told me that alas, it probably would not. I was feeling very
guilty about all these pigeon deaths and wondering how my neighbor was feeling
about the reduction of his flock size. So I thought maybe I was imagining attacks
that weren't happening and I went back to whatever I had been doing. After a
short interval I heard the sound again and went bolting down the hall growling
at Chauncey for having tricked me. But again, there was nothing! Had he changed
his kill spot? I looked in the open door of a bedroom, nothing. I peered into
another bedroom, again, nothing. Looking into the master bedroom there was
Chauncey, right behind the door looking friendly and innocent as could be, but
I saw no bird or feather. I was about to leave the room when motion caught my
eye and there, spinning slowly on the ceiling fan was a HUGE black crow. It
glared balefully at me as it spun in slow circles. This bird was easily three
times as big as Chauncey. I have heard them called King crows and this one was
in a state of royal miff, as if I was somehow responsible for it being there. I
was trying to imagine Chauncey getting this beast through the doggie door. It
was an immense bird. How, I wondered, was I going to get it out of the house?
The first necessity was to remove Chauncey, easily accomplished, I scooped him
up, put him on the other side of the door and quickly shut it. Then I hauled up
the mini blinds and opened the window, removing the screen. I looked hopefully
at the bird which was still regarding me with a most vicious expression. It
seemed disinclined to leave the slowly spinning perch it occupied. So, I tried
yelling and moving my arms. I am sure that would have appeared quite comical to
any onlooker and I was grateful there was none. This tactic did not work
either. I thought and thought and made the decision to leave the room, sidestepping
Chauncey who was trying to re-enter to attend to his trophy bird. No, that was
not an option, I scooted him aside, closed the door and proceeded to the
kitchen for a large yellow broom. I took it back to the bedroom, re-entered and
in Don Quixote jousting mode went at that huge angry bird with the intent to
make it move. Even with me poking at it, it resisted! I was surprised to find
myself afraid of a bird. Scenes from the Alfred Hitchcock movie played in my
mind as I, sputtering and cussing, attempted to direct this unwelcome and
unhappy being out the window. It took at least half an hour to do it. Finally
it went through the window! I rearranged the room, opened the door, smirking at
Chauncey in triumph now that his big game was gone. He looked at me mildly and
philosophically and I thought the ordeal was over. But no! I went out to feed
the horses a little while later and the back yard was full of crows, all cawing
maniacally. It was extremely frightening. They stayed a good week calling out
each time I ventured out the door.
