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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “War of Water” cc&d, v282 (the April 2018 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:  |
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Bird Island, Chapter 17: Galilee at Dawn
Patrick Fealey
Bird pulls in a wing and falls from the sky. Bird tumbles out of the light and swoops onto the rock the humans call Narragansett Island.
Awh! Awh! Awh!
The human has done it to it with the bottles. Bird catches fleas until the dropping tide exposes a carcass.
The eye of the bluefish pops. The eye is salty. Bird watches for wharf cats. the crows are laughing in the trees. the day is here.
Bird stands over the bluefish. The tail is in the water. Bird looks. The sun is painting the bottoms of the gray clouds blood red. The boats are still on glass. Cries from the white gulls, and the singing of little ones.
fleas and flies. The human rises and pats off the sand. Bird follows it.
Bird flies up to a wire. There are human voices inside the building and Bird smells meat on fire. A human comes out the door in a cap and more clothes. It talks to the other human.
“Ricky,” it says.
“How’s the fishing?”
“Almost not worth going out.”
“Oh.”
“Been looking for squid, but not finding many.”
“Need any help?”
“I’ve got to change a net to meet regs this morning, all set with crew.”
“Oh.”
“Rick, there’s so little to catch these days, you’re better off on shore banging nails.”
“Yeah.”
The sun passes the trees and the sky is red. The wires on the boats shine. Gulls scream over dead skates in blue barrels. Then wind: a light onshore breeze brushes Bird’s neck. A flag rises and drops. It’s a cool breeze that blows the sky to gray. The sun is lost behind the clouds it had lit red.
Bird hops down the wire. A human is bent over, shaking a machine that gives the silver coins. The human puts a bundle of papers into the machine and says, “I have two daughters in college” and goes quickly away into its car.
The human Ricky leans on the machine and laughs.
“HUGH GRANT MISSES THE DAYS BEFORE HIS FAME!”
Bird moves on down the street to the ferries. The humans are slow, it is the bottles, and a dog goes without food, without the life. Four gulls stand on the gangway, waiting for the outsiders. The white ones expect and do not tolerate.
Plastic. A human dressed in red, with long black hair. It is the doughnut human throwing food into the green box. In the bags bird can see the doughnuts, muffins and doughnuts, but the cats. They wait under the green box, under the cars. The human says “good morning” to the doughnut human and walks.
Bird flies to the top of a street pole. The human looks up. Bird has been following it. It shakes its head at Bird. Bird has a human.
The street is quiet, but there are humans working on the dock in yellow legs.
The human Ricky says, “You wouldn’t need any help, would you?”
“What are you, stupid?” it says.
“Maybe, but down here that’s a qualification.”
“We’re waiting to unload a boat at 7:30. I think five is plenty for the job.”
The human talking is a yellow head with a smoking mouth. It is kicking the wheel on a shiny cart.
“Okay. Thanks.”
The sun is behind a streak of grey clouds.
The rumble of boat engines in the channel draws Bird. Boats follow boats. Big boats holding humans with fishing sticks. Small skiffs with lone humans standing in the backs, hanging on to the engines. Boats pass by, out to sea. Humans go to where the fish are.
No wires here. Sand and water. Bird drops and glides down to the wall of rocks, stands on one. A blue car rolls and stops by. A white head with a cap gets out. It is smiling at the human. Its face is tan. It is tall. The human takes its hand.
“You look familiar,” the human says.
“I’m down here 360 days a year,” it says.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I worked my whole life to do this. I played minor league baseball. The Pawtucket Red Sox. Then I taught school. I owned a laundromat. One day a couple who lives across the channel came over to find out who was the owner of the blue car.”
“You love the beach.”
“Since I was a kid in the Great Depression. The camaraderie down here reminds me of the old days in Providence, when every face was familiar and people were not afraid of each other.”
“Before courage went out of style.”
“If we are just willing to die, as far as the I, me, life is beautiful. Big cars. Big houses. Clothes. They never meant anything to me. This is what I wanted.”
“You’re a philosopher and a beach bum.”
“This is all I’ve needed. This is forever.”
Two yellow-headed humans look to the white head. “Who’s that good-looking guy?”
The sun is gone, but the sky is light. Bird walks on and away and hops after the human far on down to the beach. Bird walks along the water in the sand and waves break and the white water rushes up to Bird. Bird picks at a clam washed ashore. Bird flies and sees it on the beach, turns and flaps and comes in beside it. The human’s feet are sunken into the sand and a wave rushes over his legs. It is looking down. It is a big fish, lying on the sand at the edge of the water. The bone of it is more than twice as long as a human and at the end are long whiskers dangling from the sides of the skull.
“GET OUTA HERE, YOU BUZZARD! IT’S THE BLOCK NESS MONSTER! I’M RICH!”
It is a coiled egg-fish. White foam rushes up around the fish. The big egg fish swims here. Bird ate from one at the salt pond. There is no meat on it for Bird.
