Looking south over the treeless landscape, north wind blows cold hard rain against the chicks' head and shoulders, and although completely covered with gortex and leather, each rain drop hurts. Overhead, black and dark clouds dance their slow, erotic rotation as they have done for generations on the Southern Plains. But, the chicks are not standing next to a hardtop road leading to a town over the hill. This is Arctic Alaska, P.O. Box 68 degrees, and Some.
62 Oscar Sierra to Wanderer, squeaks the leather covered monkey with long tail, cradled in the hand under the chick's jacket. Fumbling, struggling Wanderer unzips his wrap to extricate the monkey. Wanderer, come in Wanderer, the monkey squeaks a second time.
Suddenly, a speck, a tiny mosquito moving across a patch of blue in the southeast sky can be seen. Got your visual, the chick chirps back to the monkey. We're at 2:00 o'clock, on the hill top. The mosquito turns and flies in the chicks' direction.
OK, now I see ya, squeaks the monkey.
The mosquito begins to grow larger, larger until it becomes a large bird with one wing overhead. Nearing ground, it arches its back and thrusts its feet forward to touch the earth. Testing, testing it feels grass and rocks searching for stability. Then, it settles in as the hard rain continues to hammer the chicks. With the large wing still flapping overhead, two of the four chicks hurry to the bird and slide in under her wing. The wing flaps harder and the bird legs stretch to reach the ground, then they are too short.
Oscar Sierra in the air, returning to nest, three chicks on board, ETA eight minutes, clucks the elder chick to the monkey.
Ten seconds pass as hard rain hammers the bird and then, unexpectantly and to no one in particular, the elder chick utters OH SHIT. A hole has appeared in the right eye of the bird. Instantly, the elder twists then clicks the monkey and cackles, this is Oscar Sierra, hit in eye by white rock. Will attempt to struggle in.
Hit by a what? comes the voice of chief chick from a far away nest.
A rock, answers the elder as he struggles to see past the rushing air in his face.
A what?
A rock. Romeo, Oscar, Charlie, Kilo.
Then twisting and then clicking the elder clucks to the chicks remaining on the ground, will be late retrieving you, got a rock in the eye.
Take your time, you don't want to be down here, chirps back a chick from the ground.
At the nest there is no rain and the wounded bird safely lands. Three chicks hurry to create a patch while the elder phones super chick. Forty-two minutes later, the wounded, one-wing bird with eye patch lifts from nest to retrieve the others. Fifteen minutes later, all chicks are safe in the nest.
la 7/1/07