Tuesday, October 22, 2013

No Reason





     Ferdinand and Yolanda were flying low over the Arctic tundra. Their wings beat in rhythm, whoosh, flutter, flutter; whoosh, flutter, flutter. The sun was setting over the horizon and they had yet to find a place to land. There was a cool updraft from the ocean, but they were looking for a rocky embankment to land and make a nest. Below them, lumbered a wobbly polar bear. He stopped to stretch and his shadow lengthened making him look twice as big. With a sharp squawk, Ferdinand warned Yolanda to fly higher over the bear who, with the spring thaw, was ready for some supper be it salmon, seal or fresh surfbird.
     Whoosh, flutter, flutter; whoosh, flutter, flutter. Each beat of their wings sent them cruising deeper into the grey, darkening sky. Soon it would be nightfall and the edge of the moon peered out behind them.
     Pituk, a young Inuit boy stomped out of the lodge. His big brother had shared his blubber dinner with him but wouldn’t let him use his knife. Pituk crossed his arms and his caribou skin coat sent a pouf of the comforting scent of animal sweat into his nose. No one thought he mattered, he thought when a lone, white-tipped surfbird feather floated down from the heavens. He looked up to see the moon rising, “I do too matter,” he thought, “And this is all mine.”


 ~*~

Photo credit:
 http://cgiss.boisestate.edu/~matt/