Enoch Martin

The gull screeches it’s loneliness

as the foghorn startles it from it’s sodden perch,

Mist crawls into every crevice in the town

like the tendrils of Dread,

The drums of Death echo

as I plunge into the pit-

But I awake before I hit the ground.

Long, thin blades of green

Arching up toward the sky

Bridges to nowhere

But the little ladybug

Uses it as her runway

Creeping underneath

Comes the smoke, filling the room

But the door is locked

My nose fills with the fragrance of cedar 

Every tree is familiar 

Beneath my bare feet I feel the soft dirt 

The sun glints off the lake, gleaming silver 

I see trees stretching to the horizon 

Blueberries on every bush 

I hear bird songs intertwine 

As through the ferns I push 

This is the place,  

The silence of freedom,  

Where everything moves at a slower pace 

Around me the lazy bees hum 

The breeze across my skin is bliss, 

Reminding me of a time past; 

Thru the trees filtered the sun’s sweet kiss 

As two bucks’ antlers clashed 

Waking up to crackling 

As sausages sizzle on the stove; 

Baking pies- 

The smells of basil, nutmeg and clove; 

The dog in the corner,  

Chewing on a bone; 

Earth, Air, Fire, Water: 

This is Home 

Paddling with a friend across Howe Sound in my canoe, I heard a commotion near a small, rocky point jutting up out of the sea. Turning in that direction, I noticed the mass of seagulls hovering above the islet, periodically dive-bombing something down on the rocks. When we got closer, I heard what had drawn their attention. Terrified squawks and squeals rang out from a little lump running back and forth on the island.  Beaching the canoe, I clambered out to find out what’s going on. The seagulls in the air were mercilessly attacking a small, bloody gull huddled on the ground. I could tell it was only a baby, as this little glaucous-winged gull was just developing it’s pinfeathers- I couldn’t just leave it alone. Each time an older gull swooped down to peck at it’s head it would try frantically to escape, but it had nowhere to go. I knew that the fledgeling’s panicked cries would haunt me forever if I did nothing. So, chasing away the crown of gulls, I scooped up the little thing and settled back in the canoe. Burrowing it snugly in my sweater on the floor of the boat, I turned and headed for home. 

Back at the house I was building for my friend’s dad, I cleaned and warmed it up, then brought in some dog food from the truck. After it had softened in some water, I offered it to the gull and I could tell it hadn’t eaten in a long time. It was then that my Alaskan Malamute; Skeena saw us and started to get jealous- howling in gibberish at me to show her displeasure and jumping up trying to reach the bird. Eventually, once I scolded her and showed her that I was caring for this gull, she calmed down enough for some curiosity to come through. I knelt down on the floor and let her take a good look. Within a few seconds Skeena gave him a single lick on the head, and I thought it might be okay to put him down. Immediately she resumed licking his head, so I praised her for it and showed her that I was pleased.

The bird needed a name, so I started to call him Oscar. Within a few days, he had gained a lot of energy, and they were both eating out of the same dog dish. After eating, Skeena would lay down on the floor with her mouth hanging open and Oscar started to peck the bits of food from between her teeth. She didn’t seem to mind this at all, and just lay there letting him work. Because a seagull’s normal diet doesn’t usually involve dog food, I picked some tuna up at the store to try it out. Just a few seconds after I opened that first can, Oscar came running up to the door and started making up a real fuss outside. He was just going crazy cause he could smell the tuna. Heading outside with some in a dish, I hadn’t even put it down yet when Oscar started jumping up and down at my feet. The moment it was within his reach, Osar just went crazy on the fish. Looks like I’ve found him a main course. But this still didn’t stop him from sneaking over to Skeena’s bowl once in a while to snag a kibble or two. Eventually Skeena’s relationship with Oscar got to the point where she wouldn’t even let any of my friends anywhere near the little bird. She was the momma, and she licked Oscar’s head so much that no feathers could grow, he just remained bald, all the pinfeathers got licked right out.

After a month or so, I was out chopping wood for the stove when an official-looking character with aviator sunglasses came walking up my trail. Setting down the ax, I introduced myself, and taking off his shades he replied with,

“So, I hear that you’ve got a seagull here.”

“What business is that of yours?” I said.

“Well, someone reported that you’re keeping a seagull as a pet, which is illegal. You  need to turn it over or go to court.” 

I told him that I rescued it from being killed and nursed it back to health, but he just said that’s illegal and I’ve got to just let nature run its course. 

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m gonna take it down to Reifel Range. ” 

“You’re going to do what?! ” 

“Reifel Bird Rescue, it’s a wildlife sanctuary. ” 

I just said, “Oh. ” Relief washed over me as I realized that he wasn’t actually going to take Oscar to a rifle range. 

“So, ”  he said. “What’s it gonna be?” 

“Whatever, I’ll bring him over. ” 

So I called, “Oscar!” And seconds later he came tearing around the corner, out of the woods, kicking up dirt with each step, ending up bouncing at my feet, flapping his wings. The game warden’s jaw dropped as he looked at the little seagull that had just come running. Picking it up, I handed it to him, and that’s the last I saw of Oscar.

Tearing through the bushes, scratching bare arms on the sharp twigs, I pushed on towards the light. Almost there. Stepping over a fallen branch, my foot slipped on a wet rock and I almost lost my balance but regained it just as I stumbled out into the open. Leaves of dark red and burnt orange carpeted the bare forest floor.  Tall thin trees with yellow leaves glowing from the setting sun stretched far above my head. Although it was breathtaking, not a single familiar tree was in sight. It was then that I finally admitted to myself that I was lost.  

An hour before, I knew where I was but I had a very different problem.  It started early that morning. Swaying peacefully in my hammock, it was the clanging that startled me awake. In an instant my drowsiness was gone and my eyelids snapped wide open. It took everything I had not to bolt upright in my sleeping bag, but I let myself peek over the edge of the thin, green fabric. When I saw what it was I quickly ducked back down,  rocking the hammock slightly with the sudden movement, and I cringed. I heard a muffled clatter and then a grunt. No, my duffel bag! The bag was full of cooking utensils and seasonings, but by the tearing sound that followed, I was sure that the beast was checking inside it anyway, looking for food. I could hear a rattling as it dug through my spoons and pot lids, and I slowly lifted my head to get a better look. My heart was racing and options rushed through my head. I could run before it notices me, getting a head start, or hold still and quiet and hope that it leaves soon. But I was sure that it had a keen sense of smell and my hope at staying unnoticed was unlikely.  Soon there was silence. I had a sense deep down that there was no fooling it; I was just a fresh meal, pre-packaged and ready to eat in my hammock. I knew this was no monster-under-the-bed scenario and hiding in my hammock was not an option. I needed to act quickly, so I made my decision. 

Folding my elbows in the fabric, in one smooth movement I rolled the hammock over and swung my legs down to the ground. Catching my bearings I realized that I wasn’t going anywhere through the thick wall of bushes in front of me. Whirling around I saw the beast advancing. It was then that I noticed something odd. A black collar circled it’s thick neck, almost hidden amongst curly brown fur, but there wasn’t time to wonder about it. I quickly backed up to increase the distance between us, but in three lumbering steps it was directly in front of me. I hurled myself to one side into the bushes just in time for it’s massive paw to swipe the air where I was just standing. Losing its balance, it lurched a step forward, but my escape only frustrated it. With a grunt, the bear stood upright and advanced once again. I scrambled to my feet and tried to dash between it and the lake, but I was intercepted by the furry arm slamming into my chest, like a log sending me backwards into the water. The stinging blow left me winded and gasping for air.  I only landed in the shallows but as the shock from the blow faded I began to feel a burning pain across my chest. The grooves left from the bear’s massive claws were shallow, but there already was a lot of blood. Tearing off my tattered sweatshirt, I clutched it in a bundle tightly against my chest and warily clambered up onto the bank as the bear stood there and watched. It’s moist, black snout wiggled as it tested the air. Reaching down, I picked up a jagged rock with my right hand, wound back, and hurled it as hard as I could. The beast reared back in surprise with a yelp, and I took that brief respite to make a break for it. I ran straight past the hammock, past the smoldering fire pit and tangle of pots and pans, snatching up my small pack before curving right and heading down the slope. I heard that bears aren’t great at running downhill, and this proved to be true. The bear skidded and floundered down the hill after me, but I faced forward, willing myself not to look back. The crashing behind me eventually stopped, but I kept on running.

Panting, I shrugged off my pack and dropped to my knees to catch my breath. The pain in my chest had receded to a dull throb. After running this long, dry blood crusted the edges of the wound and my torn shirt was now soaked with sweat and blood. I zipped open my day pack to take an inventory. Digging through wads of cash, I found a couple power bars in the bottom, with a lighter and a can of Monster drink. The going was going to be tough if this is all I had. I told myself to stay calm, things could be a lot worse. By then the bleeding from my chest was starting to slow down, but  I knew it would be a cold night if I didn’t find some shelter soon. In the distance it looked like there was an opening in the trees, so I struggled back to my feet, pulled on my pack, and started walking. Soon I came to the edge of the tree line. The ground dropped off sharply in front of me, with a small hollow at the base of the drop-off. It looked like there was a way down around to the left. I finally reached the bottom, and decided to light a fire and build a quick shelter, as the moon was already rising over the hills. 

My phone told me that it was 9:00pm when I woke up to the thwup-thwup-thwup-thwup  of a helicopter. Panicking, I scrambled out of my shelter to put out the fire, kicking dirt onto the coals, but the smoke still spiraled up into the sky. I pulled out my can of Monster and drowned the remaining embers. But it was too late, I knew, as a spotlight shot down from the sky, lighting me up bright as day. The light was blinding, but without a second thought I turned towards the darkness of the woods and ran. The chopper’s light followed my through the trees, the harsh white glare bouncing off of rocks and roots and flitting through the branches of the canopy as they tried to keep me in their sight. I dodged and weaved, sought out the darkest patches to run in, but then I saw the dark shapes above me zipping down to the forest floor. Seconds later came the barking. I heard the crackle of a megaphone, and then a loud voice shouting, 

“THIS IS THE POLICE, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. GET ON THE GROUND AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK!” I looked around me. Multiple lights now shone from the trees both behind me and in front. “WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED, DO NOT RESIST!” Collapsing to the leaves, I realized I was finished.