Goose

He had forgotten how many days he had been in this place; hardly noticed whether the great light was there, illuminating the sky, or if the glowing orb that took its place in darkness had performed its daily ritual of exchange.  The rain fell, as it often did in this country, but he scarcely felt the wet sliding down his head and back, pooling the ground at his feet, any more than he did the heat that scorched blisters into those same tired feet. His gaze remained fixed on the same place, day after day, night after night.  The place that she had been, weeks ago.  The place that they had been, blissful; absorbed only in each other; together.  

Only days before she had disappeared, they had learned that they were to be parents again.  At the time, he had been hardly able to contain his joy; but now all he felt was a dull ache in his heart and gut.  He kept his mind as empty as possible. Better to be numb than to cross over into the grief and despair he could feel touching the corners of his consciousness.  

Occasionally, he became dimly aware of the presence of others; family that would leave small offerings of food, or the huge, noisy beasts that sped by; sometimes slowing as they neared his spot.  Perhaps they wondered at his perseverance, his lack of movement, the slump of his narrow neck and shoulders. Those of his kind would understand. He doubted any others would. Once, when a pack of chowla had come near, he had shuffled towards the center of the hard stone highway the behemoths rolled down.  His kind had too often been hunted by these creatures. The furry beasts had watched him for a few moments, sniffing the place he had stood, eventually losing interest and loping away when he had remained there, in the center of the rolling beasts’ migratory route.

The chowla, for all of their hungry intent, also knew the danger of the giants that traveled down these roads.  He had cautiously moved back to his spot when the pack loped off, looking for easier prey. He had to stay here.  He was certain that if he just remained a little longer, she would be there again.  They would be together again. They would be a family, as they had planned. As they had been for many seasons before.

He had met her long ago, when he was in his young seasons, living among a large, noisy, friendly, village.  His people were largely nomadic, moving from place to place as mood, weather or instinct took them. He loved his people, but he also craved stillness and silence, which just didn’t happen when he was among his kind.  That time of the year it had been particularly raucous; it was the annual meet of many tribes and they had arrived in the meeting grounds yesterday. The chosen place this season was a vast grassland bordering a small lake.  The location was beautiful, but he was already craving the open spaces and feel of the wind rushing past his face as they traveled to their next destination.

His one good friend; Lo’kai, kept him busy – keeping him out of mischief.  Lo’kai was the polar opposite of his personality – merry, outgoing, mischievous, and a little crazy.  He had eyes to match his persona; one dark brown and the other a golden amber with flecks of deeper gold and brown that reminded Jae’el of driftwood floating on a sun-kissed river.  His sarcastic tongue had provoked as many challenges with other youngs in the village as Jae’el’s intelligence and diminutive size had.

Unfortunately, in spite of his spiked tongue, Lo’kai was not much of a fighter, which left Jae’el to either take on the challenge, or the two of them to run like they were being pursued by angry chowla.  Which they had been, on a number of occasions. But that was another story.

Jae’el had always been a little small for his kind, but he was sleek, muscled and graceful.  He also had the advantage of being intelligent, which certainly couldn’t be said for all of the males in his village.  Particularly the largest. Maybe they just relied too heavily upon their size and neglected their brains, or perhaps it was nature’s way of evening things out, but he had found that speed and brains won over brawn every time when there was a contest between the two.  

Even still, there was rarely a day when he was not challenged in some way by the noxious, bullying males of his group trying to prove themselves to the girls of the village.  Though he had won these challenges more times than he could count, the females were typically still drawn to the larger, louder brawnier types. It hadn’t bothered him too much – with his keen mind and vivid imagination, he always had plenty to keep him occupied; though he did occasionally experience a pang of longing for female companionship.  

The day he had met his mate, he had been on his own, quietly sitting in a warm patch of tall grass.  Jael enjoyed the quiet time to muse; he was engrossed in one of his favorite activities, watching the formations of the huge, billowing forms of light and moisture high overhead.  He marveled at the way the shapes could change from moment to moment; first a gigantic flower, then a patch of river-grass, then a high mountain. Did the creatures that resided in them make them take form, or was it a natural occurrence?  

He had been just drifting off,  relaxed and warm, limbs softened by the heat of the day when he got the uncanny feeling that he was being watched.  Sleepily opening one eye, he spotted a large, liquid eye, the color of twilight, watching him with bemusement from behind a panel of the grass.  He had stood up quickly, tripping over his own feet in the process and landing hard on the ground behind him. His face and neck warmed, embarrassment twisting his features.  

Looking up dumbly to see the eye moving out of the grass, becoming a face that was most becoming.  She laughed lightly, the sound like soft wind through the lupine that bloomed broad and blue-violet in the spring.  She was beautiful, and he was transfixed. Dropping down next to him, she was close enough for him to see the moisture glistening on her face and body.  She must have been swimming.

Shaking her head, she sprayed him with cool drops of lake water.  She gave another little laugh.

“Sorry!  Wasn’t thinking, there.  Hope you don’t mind a cool down!  I am Hael’il. I like your secret spot.  She paused for a moment, looking out through the small slivers of light between the grass and reeds, then glanced at him sideways.  He had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see into his mind, or maybe his soul, and knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Those chalili are really loud.  I love seeing friends and family from all over, but are they ever a rowdy bunch!  Have we met before? I don’t remember you, but it can be hard to keep track at these gatherings.”  His eyes widened. She wanted him to speak? He suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember his own name.  So much for wit and intelligence.

“Ja Ja Ja”  He stuttered.  Her eyes sparkled.  “Ja Ja? An unexpected name for one of your tribe.”  He dipped his head, breaking eye contact, then looked up again, staring at a space just past her head.  Maybe that would help. He took a deep breath.

“My name is Jae’el.  I don’t think we have met before – I would have remembered. She had cocked her head thoughtfully, gazing at him with an appraising look that he had eventually grown to know well.  

“Jae’el, hmm?  Well, Jae’el, I think we are going to be very good friends.”  

They had been together since.  Until the day a few weeks ago when she had disappeared from the small thicket where they had recently made their camp.   He had only left for a few hours, hunting down a meal for their midday repast. She had been feeling a little tired, her belly beginning to show signs of her incipience.  When he had left, she had been resting, her head cradled on a pillow of soft grass. When he returned to find her gone, he had not been concerned. She was independent and deeply social, visiting friends, family and elderly members of their village daily.  She must have just gone for a visit. He had settled down to wait, feeling a little drowsy himself.

He awakened at twilight, the grass cool and already beginning to dampen from the evening dew.  He was still alone. He had become worried. This was uncharacteristic, but perhaps Hael’il had been held up at granny Fautina’s place.  Granny had been doing poorly this season and Hael’il had spent much time there, comforting the old woman the best she could with her presence.   He had walked over to grannie’s encampment, but granny had not seen his mate at all that day. He became increasingly panicked as he had visited each camp in their village, but no one had seen her since the morning at village meet.  He went back to their camp, calling her name as loudly as his lungs could muster.

Eventually, everyone in the encampment had joined in the hunt, to no avail.  She had disappeared. When light came, he expanded his search for miles, but he could find no trace of her.  He had continued to scour the nearby land for days, desperate to find some sign of his love. Finally, exhausted, he had settled into this place, on a bit of high ground, to watch their camp for her return.  

A few days ago, the village had moved on to their next camp, the elders shaking their heads sadly at his refusal to join them.  He had heard them quietly speaking among themselves as they shuffled off.

“It is often this way.  They were well bonded – Jae’el will not easily be swayed to leave his mate.”  He would not be swayed. Hael’il would not have left willingly, and he knew she would return if at all possible.  Lo’kai had come to visit him, sitting quietly by his side for hours. Finally, he had spoken. It was the first time Jae’el had ever heard his friend mournful.  

“Jae’el, we have been friends for many seasons.  Do you remember that first season when we were younglings?  You were so small, but still, you protected me from those dwa’bel who were trying to get some licks in on me.”  He smiled at the memory. “You have always had my back, brother, regardless of circumstance. Perhaps you would allow me to return the favor.” Lo’kai took a deep breath.

“Jae’el,  I know how much you love Hael’il.  But it has been weeks since she has been seen.  The village is moving on, and I am worried that if you stay longer, something will happen to you, as well. You haven’t really eaten since she disappeared.  You will disappear yourself if you don’t move on. Jae’el had glared over at him.

“What was that, brother?   Would you have me give up on Hael’il; turn my back and just forget my mate?”, he queried.  Lo’kai shifted uncomfortably.

“Jae’el, I think you should consider that perhaps Hael’il is not coming back.  That maybe she was taken by the chowla, or the hunters with fire sticks.” He shook his head sadly.  “I don’t know, she could have even been run down by one of the rolling beasts.” Jae’el had turned his back on his friend.  

“Leave now, Lo’kai.  Leave with the village.  Perhaps we will meet in another season, but this is my place.  With my mate.” Lo’kai had reached out for a moment, then turned away.  

“As you wish, brother.  I will pray that we will see each other soon.”  There had been silence after that. Jae’el was alone. A stream of the great wheeled beasts rolled past, black clouds billowing in their wake.  He glanced behind his shoulder as the last of the creatures trundled down the road. He thought, for a moment, that he had caught a glimpse of something through the haze; just across the highway.  

“Hael’il?”  He turned farther around, craning his neck. “Hael’il!  Are you there?”  

There it was again – hazy and indistinct, but he was sure he had seen something.  Her. She had returned, as he knew she would. He stood up, his legs nearly giving out from under him, so weak that he could barely support himself. Jae’el reached out, stumbling across the wet stone path, beginning to sob.

“Hael’il, I knew you would come back to me.”  His tears obscured his vision as he made his way towards her.  He stopped for a moment, shaking his head to clear his eyes. Where was she?  Why did she not call back? His gaze fixed upon the spot he had been sure he had seen her just a moment before.  

“Hael’il?”  His voice barely a whisper now.  There was nothing there. It had been an apparition, or perhaps a hallucination.  He dropped to the hard ground. His desperation turned to grief. Lo’kai had been right.  Hael’il was gone. He had been a fool, convincing himself she was alive to avoid his pain.

The ground beneath him began to shake slightly.  Jae’el slowly looked up, hearing the rumbling of a rolling beast as it sped towards him; towards the high mountain in the distance.  He pushed himself to stand, facing the behemoth as it raced closer. His spine straightened. His thoughts cleared. Hael’il was gone.  He hadn’t been able to accept it until this moment, but he new knew with perfect clarity that he would see her again soon. The great beast was nearly upon him.  It cried out in it’s massive bassoon voice.

“Move!” Standing as tall as his shaky legs would allow, he spread his glossy, painted wings, lengthening his sleek black neck and lifted his chin, dark beak raised defiantly.

“Hael’il!”  He screamed,  unspeakable sorrow mingling with fierce joy.   He would go to his beloved. “I am coming!”

There was a strange moment upon impact; not exactly pain, but a pressure unlike anything he had felt – like the atmospheric pressure before an intense summer storm, but magnified a thousandfold.  Then it was gone, and he was light. He spread his wings wide, lifting to the skies. Jae’el looked down for only a moment at the small, still form lying on the hard stone ground. Blood seeped from its mouth and eyes.   He felt no connection, only a little sadness for the creatures’ pain. He smiled and looked up again. He heard a faint voice. Hael’il. His beloved.

“Jae’el, you silly goose.”  He soared upward, the wind in his face and joy in his heart.  He was going home.

This story was inspired by a Canadian goose who stood, alone for several weeks, next to a long stretch of rural country road that I travel nearly daily. I was curious and concerned about the creature, wondering what could cause this behavior. Geese often mate for life – had he lost his mate? Speculation led to the story. Sadly, as life often follows fiction and vice versa, a few days after writing this, I was deeply saddened to see that the beautiful bird had passed away, close to the same spot he (or she) had been standing. Strangely, that afternoon when I pulled into my driveway, there was a small flock of Canadian geese on the field of my farm right next to where I park my car. When I got out of my car, they stood there for several minutes, just a few feet from where I stood, watching me. Perhaps it was just coincidence, but I like to think that we are much more deeply connected to our environment than we like to believe. Is it possible that the geese somehow were aware of the story I had written in honor of their fallen comrade, and were there to communicate that? Something to think about…