Ghostcat in the night
Once again I'm posting about a month after things happened. I am so far behind in keeping my posts current. I can't wait until school is over!!
I had another day of testing at school -- under the
watchful eye of Ms. Joilee, I was still not allowed to read a book, but Carl’s
mom had heard all about my humiliation at the hands of Ms. Joilee, and felt
sorry for me…Carl’s mom is so sweet – she’s asked me to call her “Minni”. She’s the first non-Native, non-relative
adult who has ever treated me like I had a brain. Carl is so lucky to have Minnie as his
mom! Minnie sent Carl to school with two I-pods that Thursday morning, both
hers and his, so that I could at least listen to music in my downtime. So I got to relax with music when I finished
the test sections. And as a bonus, I
have some “new” artists to check out – ironically enough, some guy named “Cat
Stevens”, and gypsy band called “Gogol Bordello”. I also have to check out some of the
soundtracks she had songs from on her I-pod …“Hair”,
“Chicago,” and “Starstruck” …there were some really good songs in these plays & movies.
The music took my mind off of the tedious task of
testing. At the end of the testing, Ms.
Joilee handed me back my book, commenting that This Rough Magic
was “hardly what she expected such an advanced
student to be reading.” Her sarcasm was
dripping like butter from a Julia Child recipe. I just smiled, and told her that my copy of Maus
and was autographed and I didn’t want to lose it to a confiscating
teacher. Some kids got my joke. One boy, this quiet kid who was only in my
gym class, told me he was surprised that any other 6th grader in
this town had even read Maus. I had to remind him that I wasn’t actually
from White Cedars. That made him laugh.
He
told me his name was Jay, and he usually went to the Catholic school, Our Lady
of Sorrows. His dad had lost his job
because of the bad economy, so this year he was in public school. He hated it. I told him I’d been homeschooled
all of my life, and that this was my first time in ANY school. He just shook his head in dis-belief.
“How
can you take it?” he asked.
“It’s
like I’m in prison, but I try to have an interesting life outside the bars.” I
replied. That cracked him up. Jay’s really nice – unfortunately, his lunch
is during my recess time, but he said he’s gonna cut sometime to sneak into
lunch to see me. I kinda like that.
Because
of the testing, there was no homework, so
after school I took a nap. Then, after
dinner, I told my aunt I would be in my room, but I slipped out the window and
headed for Horseneck Nature Sanctuary. I
checked out the paths -- much of the ground was damp, but there air was full of
interesting scents. I waited until
around nine-thirty to shift, even though I didn’t sense anyone nearby. It’s hard to see the stars in the suburbs;
there’s always light from somewhere. In
cougar shape, it’s more obvious. The
whole Eastern sky glows with New York’s need to be seen. But between the trees, it’s almost like I’m
back home.
I don’t know why I think of Pennsylvania as my home
state -- I wasn’t even born there, it’s just where I’ve been growing up most of
my life. New Jersey doesn’t feel like
that, yet. But that night, as I slipped past
fallen trees and around abandoned buildings, my inner cat felt quite
contented. There were interesting scents
to explore; I scented small creatures-- mostly birds -- that I’d never smelled
(or seen) before. Birds were migrating
early this year, because of the warm snowless winter, and it seems that lots of
different species of birds use this ridge as a guide. There were tiny birds sleeping in the brush
and treetops. There had been a coyote
passing through, and some dogs lived nearby.
I prowled through a field, then climbed a tree to get a different
vantage point, but startled a turkey nearby.
I wondered how she recognized me as predator, because she certainly had
never encountered a cougar before. Was
there some sort of genetic conditioning?
There were no pheasant or grouse around; the turkeys
probably held that niche in the ecosystem.
Back home, I often scented all three, but not here. Instead there were all sorts of interesting
new bird scents because of migration.
Apparently New Jersey has more migrant birds than my home area of
Pennsylvania had. The trees and fields
smelled as if there more than fifty varieties and it wasn’t April yet! I walked past the skunk cabbages that were
beginning to unfurl, and paused, because there was a dog nearby. It was injured; fear and blood were in the
air.
What happened next shouldn’t have occurred at all – I
had a full stomach and Aunt Lina had cautioned me often enough to hold my cat’s
instincts in check. It was over so fast
it takes longer to describe it than to do it.
I killed a wabbit.
OK, I know, NOT FUNNY. But if I don’t try to laugh,
I’ll cry again.
See, there was an owl flying; that caught me off
guard. Then I smelled more fear, and a
rabbit ran by. The owl swooped and the
rabbit swerved. I pounced.
There was a high pitched squeal (yes, rabbits squeal)
and then it was all over. The owl was gone, and I could smell the blood. It made me – the Randi me – want to
puke. I almost shifted back, but my cougar
sensed something nearby…
I backed away from the poor dead bunny. It was a young cottontail. If the owl had caught it, I wouldn’t have
thought twice about it, but here, now…what a waste.
There was a light rustling….a small,
rust-and-chocolate dachshund limped toward me and the carcass. I backed up.
This was the dog I had smelled before – it had a couple of cuts, and was
afraid, but hungry. It whined as if it
were begging for table scraps. I backed
up a few more feet, leaving the dog to the spoils of my stupidity. It tentatively licked at the bloody neck of
the rabbit, then looked at me as if to make sure I was not claiming the kill
for myself, then it bravely put it’s good paw on the bunny as if to say “Mine!”
He was shaking as he did it, but I couldn’t help admiring the little guy – he
was facing down a cougar!
I backed away, leaving the dachshund to his meal. Hunger was overriding the dog’s fear, and at
least the bunny’s death would feed another animal, so it wasn’t such a waste
any longer.
It was time for me to go back to my clothes and head
home. I forget how long it took to get
back to the house. Thank God no one saw
me – I had blood and tears on my hands
and face. I climbed back into my room to
see Aunt Lina sitting on my bed, waiting for me.
Busted.
She asked me why I hadn’t just asked for
permission. We could have gone out
together, she explained. She couldn’t
understand that I wanted to go alone.
And she wasn’t thrilled about the kill, but I would have thought she’d
be angry.
Instead, I saw disappointment in her eyes.
“It happens,” She said. “You have to learn better control. That’s why we should have gone out
together.” Then she got me a bottle of
peroxide and told me to clean myself and my clothes before I went to bed.
I’ve
read in books how a parent’s disappointment is worse than getting yelled
at. Suddenly, I understood how those
characters felt. Aunt Lina didn’t much
care about grades (although my second marking period had produced all A’s &
one B+ in Social Studies.
Mrs. Raschall still hadn’t gotten over the mistake of first marking period –
I doubt I’ll ever see an A from her.) but she does want me to excel at her
lessons in survival as a shifter in 21st century America. I only hope I do – what happened tonight was
risky, and foolish. But then there’s
that shivering, limping dachshund that
wouldn’t have had a dinner tonight, if it weren’t for my slip-up. I hadn’t told Aunt Lina about him. But the last thing I recall thinking about
before drifting off was that little guy standing up to a predator that could
have ripped him to shreds.
Until
my next post…
Randi
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