---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “Warroir’s Light” cc&d, v277 (the November 2017 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:

Order this writing in the issue book Language of Untamed Spirit the cc&d Sept.-Dec.2017 collection book		get the 4 page May-August 2017 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Bird Island, Chapter 6: Summer Folk

Patrick Fealey

    Green beans.

    The ground one holds summer in its hands and chews it as fast as it grows. Its shiny black eyes watch the house on which Bird sits.

    Bird glides down to the garden and lands near the ground one. It stands high with a green bean in its black hands. It admits Bird to its feast by feeding in the bean and watching the hill. Bird goes at a bean on the ground.

    The humans are gathered below in the garden. Wawp rides down from the road and past the house to the garden and drops Wawp’s bike in the grass by the fence. Wawp says “Hi” to the humans, Wawp’s mates. The white head is walking the fence while its mate kneels in the garden and pulls at stalks. It shakes its head and makes talk in that talk only it speaks that Wawp says is Italian. It’s head is wrapped.
    “Whoever they are,” it says, “they don’t like Swiss chard or hot peppers.”
    “They’re getting through the fence somewhere,” the white head says, “but I don’t see where.”
    “Who?” Wawp asks.
    “Groundhogs,” Wawp’s mate says.
    “You mean woodchucks?”
    “They’re eating our vegetables during the week.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Look at the beans,” the mate says. “Her garden always grows.”
    The younger mate walks up from the water which fills the trees below the garden and says, “I found the hole.”
    Wawp follows the white head and the mates down to the water. They climb down and they turn and look back into the side of the land.
    “It’s the right size,” the white head says. “He’s dug it horizontally into the clay.”
    “This is where he lives,” the younger mate says.
    The father looks into the hole.
    “We have those traps in the basement,” the older mate says.
    “Leg traps?” the white head says.
    “Two of them.”
    The white head moves, climbs the embankment. Wawp and the mates follow it.
    “If we set one of those, we’ll get him, dad,” says the younger mate.
    “If we can be sure the trap is set,” the white head says. “It doesn’t take much to set one of those things off. Sprung, it is worthless. And we’re in Providence all week.”
    The white head turns and looks at Wawp and his mates. He looks at Wawp. “Could you come down here and check the trap for us? To make sure it’s set?”
    “Sure,” Wawp says.
    “Can you come every day?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. We’ll try it.”

    The older mate walks down from the house with rusted chain and metal swinging in its hand. It drops the metal onto the grass and the humans gather. It leans over the chains, lifting and pulling while the others talk. The voices go up and down fast. The mate stands up. It puts its foot on the metal quahog and reaches down. It steps off and says, “Anyone have a stick?” On the grass at the end of the chain sits the open metal quahog. The young mate goes to where the grass meets trees and brings back a short branch and gives it to the older mate. The older mate walks over to the quahog and pokes it with the branch. The quahog snaps, the metal flies into the air with the branch. The mate jumps back. The mates laugh.

    Wawp sees Bird in the tree above the water. “Bird!”
    Bird stays.

    The mates are at the hole where the ground one goes in and comes out. Wawp is swinging a hammer at a ringing metal stick, pushing it into the ground outside the hole. The young mate makes the chain go to the stick. The quahog is on the end. The older mate leans over the quahog and pushes back the sides and stands on it while it fingers the quahog. It slides it into the ground one’s hole with the branch. “He’ll have to be one smart groundhog to get past that,” it says.

    The white head, Wawp’s mates, the wrapped head, get into the car as darkness comes from the woods. The humans leave the house without a light.

 
Zucchini

    The ground one gnaws and Bird pecks at the green log. The beans were sweeter, but this is a good place. The food is easy and soon the tomatoes will be soft.

    At the sound, Bird flies up to Bird’s tree and the ground one runs for its hole. It is Wawp bouncing on Wawp’s bike across the grass past the garden down to the pond and stopping above where the ground one goes. Wawp drops his bike. Wawp approaches the embankment. Wawp looks over the edge at where the ground one goes in and comes out. The stick and chain are there. Wawp jumps down the hill and looks into the hole. Wawp reaches into it and in Wawp’s hand is the quahog. “He sprung it. With his nose. There’s whiskers.” Wawp bends and pushes at the quahog, Wawp stands on it and uses his hands. Wawp slides the snapping metal quahog back into the hole of the ground one.
    “Bird?”
    “ . . .”
    “Bird!”
    “ . . .”

    The morning sun pours white onto the wet garden and Bird goes to it because Bird must. Bird pecks into a low tomato and the juice is sweet. Bird drinks and eats alone.

    Comes Wawp, fast across the wet grass. Bird flies to the roof. Wawp brings up grass and dirt and drops Wawp’s bike. Wawp runs to the embankment and looks down. Bird flies over across the garden and pond and takes a tree near Wawp. Wawp knows Bird is with him, but Wawp is looking at the ground one. The ground one is where it was when the white sun broke through the topmost leaves and it did not come to the garden.

    The ground one is looking at Wawp with shining black eyes. It looks small and in the light by the pond its brown fur is red. The ground one walks on the chain. Wawp steps off the embankment and looks at it. It fears Wawp and draws the chain tight running away. It stops and looks at Wawp again. Wawp is still. Wawp looks at the ground one who cannot run. The mouth of the steel quahog is closed on its small black hand. the ground one is near free. They watch one another. Wawp’s eyes are big. The ground one’s black eyes shine on Wawp.

    Wawp runs up the dirt and grass to the edge of the garden. Wawp looks and Wawp pulls a log out of the tall grass. Wawp carries it down the embankment to the ground one. The ground one watches as Wawp raises the log over Wawp’s head. Wawp lets the log fly. It hits the ground one’s side and it falls. The log rolls away. The ground one stands. It does not try to run. It does not look at Wawp. Wawp picks up the log. Wawp lifts it high and lets it go. It hits the ground one on the head. The ground one falls over. Blood runs out its nose. It lies on its side, its shiny blue belly rising in the sun, nipples swollen. Blood makes red bubbles in its nostrils. Its feet move like it is running. Its front foot shakes the chain. Wawp picks up the log again . . .
    Wawp raises the bloody log until the ground one is still. Wawp runs to Wawp’s bike, crying.

    Bird glides down to the ground one. Bird goes for the eyes first.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...