Just Beyond the Very, Very Far North

by Dan Bar-el

  Major Puff didn’t answer right away. He took a moment to compose himself, finding that his feathers were damp with perspiration for some reason. Perhaps an overcommitment to his noontime marching practice would account for it? He wasn’t sure. “A journal, you ask? It’s, um, it’s not the puffin way. We hold to an oral tradition. I will share my heroic tales with Madame, no doubt.”

  At that moment, Twitch let out a big, loud snort, which drew both of their attention. A bit of mumbling followed, mostly inaudible other than the last part that sounded like “I need a nibble holiday, just saying.” Afterward, Twitch fell into an even rhythm of gentle snores. She was fast asleep.

  This was not lost on C.C. “I see that I have overstayed my welcome,” she said to Major Puff. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon. Please pass on my appreciation to Twitch when she awakes.”

  Major Puff walked C.C. to the door. He clicked the heels of his webbed feet together and then gave her a respectful bow as a way of saying goodbye. C.C. left thinking about the expression “time flies when one is having fun.” She made a mental note to develop some kind of experiment that could test that theory scientifically.

  After closing the door behind C.C., Major Puff turned toward the table filled with a mountain of untouched sweet delights. He wondered how much flying would be required to reduce him to nothing but feather and bones. He imagined what he might look like, withered, shrunken, wasted. It caused him to shudder. Instead of waking up Twitch, to inform her that the get-together had now concluded, he decided to let her be. While she slept and snored, he began filling a plate full of cake chunks and pie slices and stacks of cookies. He gorged himself from that afternoon up until the late evening, until he could barely walk for the heaviness of his belly. If he was to begin a migration right then and there, it might require a lot of effort to get him off the ground and into the air. But if he did manage flight, he was sure to have plenty of calories to burn before he’d be in danger.

  At around midnight Twitch awoke. Major Puff had gone to bed long ago, so she had no one to help her put together the day’s events. There were gaps in her memory. She did remember C.C. arriving, and she did remember vaguely a disappointment about all her baking being unappreciated. But that couldn’t be true. When Twitch turned toward the table of desserts, she found a sizable amount of nibbles consumed. It looked as if a hungry horde had attacked it, so she must have misremembered. C.C. apparently loved all her baking. Still tired, Twitch shuffle-hopped down one of the burrow tunnels to her own bed, comforted by the thought that her efforts hadn’t gone to waste.

  4. MAJOR PUFF’S MIGRATION AND THE SEND-OFF THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN

  C.C.’S IDEA OF CHITCHAT was enough to turn Major Puff off casual get-togethers forever. And as for migrations, which were not a holiday in the slightest way, the whole idea of one was now tainted with overwhelming worry. How different it was hearing C.C.’s facts about deadly storms and starvation compared to back when he first met Twitch, who spoke in reverent tones about his migrations. Then, the puffin had felt the rush of heroic blood through his veins, and he was looking forward to making the next journey if only to describe it to Twitch later upon his return. Now, not so much.

  To be fair, Major Puff had brought this attention upon himself. He’d felt less and less threatened by a sudden attack from a great black-backed gull, enough so that he started shifting from his usual topic of conversation—historical puffin battles against said enemy—to recounting his harrowing personal experiences of flying south. “And there I was, terribly off course,” he regaled his listeners on one occasion, “no clue as to my whereabouts, when suddenly I found myself surrounded by a squadron of Canada geese! Good lads, all and all, very polite—almost too polite—but the constant honking left me stunned.”

  * * *

  What resulted from this shift in storytelling was that as the season changed, it was not him but his friends who would be the first to turn the conversation to his migration. In fact, the very next week, Handsome had said, more or less, the same thing, albeit not before making it first about himself. “As winter approaches, I once more find it harder to see my reflection in the pond. The days and nights cool, and the surface begins to freeze. A horrible sign of things to come, but I suppose you welcome it as a harbinger of your upcoming journey.”

  The week after that, when Major Puff left the burrow and headed toward the meadow where he performed his high-intensity marching workouts, he found that Magic had put up arrow signs. They were scattered everywhere. Some signs said south and others said migration this way, but all the signs were unhelpfully pointing in different directions.

  It seems even Boo got in on the discussion. “You should just tell her you like her,” she said in her usual quiet voice. In all honesty, Major Puff didn’t really hear what she said, but he suspected it had to do with migration.

  Inevitably, the question everyone asked was when exactly he intended to leave. Major Puff would hem and haw, make vague predictions, and try to change the subject. It wasn’t until Twitch decided to have a send-off party for him that Major Puff was forced to set a definitive date for his departure. There. The deal was done. Signed and sealed, as the expression goes. Everyone promised to show up and wave goodbye.

  The night prior to liftoff was fraught with anxiety for the poor puffin. The fact was that more than any other time in his life, Major Puff was content with where he was. The burrow was cozy and warm, and leaving it, along with everything and everybody in it, didn’t appeal to the Major as much as it once did. It’s very possible that he might have conceded this point, swallowed his pride, and announced to all his friends that he no longer wished to go. But during that long, dark night of soul-searching, Major Puff was visited by the weasel.

  It was as if this creature could smell the hesitation in the air, as if all the Major’s fears of danger, and his concerns for not looking cowardly, were tasty morsels to be ferreted out and gorged upon, and in doing so, the weasel made a bad situation worse.

  “What kind of friends throw a party to celebrate your likely end?” said the weasel by way of announcing himself.

  Major Puff fell backward as he squawked in surprise. “Eeek! Who’s there?” Fortunately, his room was at the far end of a tunnel a fair distance away from Twitch’s, so she was not disturbed. When the puffin’s eyes adjusted to the dark, enough to turn the ominous silhouette before him into the slightly less ominous appearance of the weasel, Major Puff was able to calm himself enough to ask two questions. “Um… I’m sorry, but what was that you said?” followed by “And, um… have we met before?”

  The weasel ignored both and continued on his train of thought. “I’m just pointing out that here you are, about to go on a very dangerous trip where you will most likely die.”

  “W-w-will I?” Major Puff’s face looked pained. “To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t so far.”

  “Just increases the odds of it happening this time,” insisted the weasel. “But instead of talking you out of it, your so-called friends decide to make it a whoop-de-do. Doesn’t seem right, if you ask me.”

  Major Puff’s fear turned to confusion. It never occurred to him that his friends’ interest in his perilous journey might not be sincere. “When you put it that way, uh… no, I suppose not.”

  Unbeknownst to the Major, the weasel was enjoying himself immensely. Hidden by the darkness was a grin as wide as it was twisted. “Of course it’s not right! And let me ask you this, Major Puff, sir… who else would want to be celebrating your tragic misfortune, hmm?”

  There it was. Like a strike of a match, or perhaps a cast of a spell, those were the words that formed the idea that turned the puffin’s confusion into mistrust. “W-w-why, the great black-backed—do you mean to say that—”

  “What do I know?” replied the weasel with fake humility. “I’m just connecting the dots, that’s all. Safe trip, Major. It was nice knowing ya.” In the snap of a tail, he was gone.

  Major Puff stood squeezed in the
corner of his dark room for quite some time, lost in thought, unsure of what to feel. Had he read his friends so poorly? Had he not seen their trickery? The sleepless night dragged on and on.

  * * *

  The next day, when the time arrived for his departure, everyone came around the burrow to see Major Puff off, but he was nowhere to be found. Twitch hopped outside. She was agitated. “Not in his room. Not getting in one last practice march along one of the tunnels. Isn’t like him to leave all stealthily if not under attack, or at least thinking he was under attack.”

  “Perhaps we mixed up the time and day,” suggested Duane.

  “Which is why I insist on proper invitations!” jumped in Handsome, with a great deal of passion. “To all gathered here, please take note of the chaos such confusion creates. Civilized life hangs by a delicate thread. Invitations, proper napkins, good diction—I’ll say no more.”

  Magic would have none of it. “Even if we did get it wrong, why would he leave without saying goodbye? I mean, really! Twitch is obviously hurt by it, and she probably baked a lot of nibbles for the occasion, right, Twitch?”

  “Hmm?” Twitch was indeed concerned about Major Puff and not really paying attention. She spoke absentmindedly, in a flat voice. “Yes, plenty of nibbles, sweet and savory, I do hope the Major is all right, so strange, and tea, there’s tea, too, why wouldn’t he wait to say goodbye?”

  “Exactly! Plenty of nibbles!” declared Magic, completely missing the more important issue at hand. “So we should help Twitch out and probably eat them so they won’t go to waste, right, Twitch?”

  “Hmm? Yes, the nibbles, shouldn’t go to waste, made the Major his favorite, gingersnaps, he likes those, thought he’d be pleased, have a good parting memory, just saying.” In a daze, Twitch slowly went back into the burrow to fetch the food.

  A heavy silence hung over the assembled friends. Major Puff’s surprise departure was a mystery. “He didn’t even want to go,” said Boo.

  But no one heard her, and then almost at the exact same time, C.C. announced loudly, out of the blue, “I recently discovered I like arrowroot cookies.” The puzzled expressions on her friends’ faces in response informed C.C. that she hadn’t yet mastered the art of chitchat, and another heavy silence followed.

  The happy send-off that was supposed to demonstrate everyone’s affection for Major Puff ended up being a very somber affair. Nibbles were eaten, but not with much enthusiasm. Duane observed it all with a sense of confusion and sadness. If it were just a case of miscommunication, a wrong time given or a wrong time heard, then the results of such a small error seemed way out of proportion. Maybe it isn’t just civilized life that hangs by a thread, Duane thought. Maybe friendship too is as fragile and susceptible to an ill breeze.

  5. DUANE MAKES AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY IN A CAVE NOT HIS OWN

  NOT TOO MANY DAYS after, as the temperature dropped lower and lower, the first snowfalls arrived in the Very, Very Far North. The light dusting of white upon the landscape brought out a particular beauty that bewitched Duane like no other season did. An adventure hike was in order, without a doubt, so he left his cave to take in the sights.

  Duane could have gone in any direction. Why he chose to head toward the river, and then to cross it, could not be explained as anything more than a whim on his part. But why Duane chose to hike farther still, beyond his usual territory, weaving his way between mountains he’d never explored before, speaks to an understanding of the world that defies rational explanation. As your narrator, I suggest to you that perhaps there are other threads that involve themselves in our daily affairs, connecting us. Invisible as these threads may be, they still hum with energy if, like Duane, we are sensitive to their pulse. How else to explain why the polar bear found himself approaching a cave? A cave quite similar to the one he calls his home, but this cave was currently in the possession of Major Puff.

  Before the puffin was seen by Duane, he was first heard. “Left, right, left, right, come on, Major, get your feet up higher and keep your mind off dinner!” The voice was unmistakable. But why was it coming from down here, in this isolated location, when it should be speaking from up there, in the sky, southbound en route to a much warmer place? “Dastardly unpleasant, cruel and unusual, so cold and empty, not fair, I say. Could be in my cozy burrow but for those traitors leading me on,” the voice continued mumbling. “Snap out of it, Major! You’re a Puff! Don’t let the Puff name be sullied with self-pity. Keep marching! Left, right, left, right, that’s more like it.”

  Duane reached the cave’s mouth, stood to one side, and cautiously peered in. He gasped. Major Puff did not look good. Aside from the clearly subpar marching, his feathers were matted, his wings were drooping, his body was undernourished, his haggard face suggested a puffin lacking in sleep—but it was Major Puff’s eyes that frightened Duane the most. They kept shifting in expression from terror to hurt to anger to suspicion. The thread that connected the concerned polar bear to the poor, disheveled puffin tugged at Duane’s heart.

  Duane stepped forward and made himself known. “Major Puff?” he said gently.

  The puffin immediately threw himself into an aggressive stance, which for a puffin with military prowess means stepping back defensively. “Who goes there?” he demanded.

  “Me. Your friend Duane.”

  Despite the warm smile that accompanied Duane’s introduction, Major Puff would have none of it. “Pah!” he spat. “I have no friends.”

  The rebuke stung. But as Duane was convinced that Major Puff was not well, he chose to ignore the comment and instead stepped a bit closer. “Why are you here, all alone in this cave? Shouldn’t you be on your migration?”

  The question infuriated the Major. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’m sure all of my so-called friends would like me flying off on my migration, eh?” The puffin demonstrated his defiance by assertively stepping back again.

  Duane was confused, not least of all because of a puffin’s tactic of running away whenever he was showing force. What Major Puff was saying confused Duane even more. “Why, yes, of course we would like that.” He took another step deeper into the cave and closer to the Major. Thump! Duane banged his head against the cave’s ceiling, which apparently was not as high as at the opening. To compensate, he crouched lower and tried to ignore the sharp pain as he spoke on. “Shouldn’t we support you, if it makes you happy?”

  Major Puff was of two minds. On face value, Duane’s answer was both caring and encouraging, but likely this was yet another cunning trick. He stepped back again. “These trips—which are not vacations—are very dangerous! They can be fatal! Is this your idea of support? Letting me go forth on such a mission?”

  Duane could not understand why Major Puff was so agitated. He wanted to calm his friend. Still crouching, he stepped closer. Thump! Again, he banged his head against the hard, rocky ceiling of the cave, which apparently continued to taper lower and narrower the farther he ventured in. This time, Duane went down on his four legs. “Major Puff, I believe that I speak for all your friends when I say—ow…”

  “Ow?” asked Major Puff.

  “No, sorry, not ow,” Duane explained, rubbing his sore head. “What I meant was… we would say that we’d prefer if you didn’t go on your migrations that are not in the least holidays. We know they are dangerous. We’ve always known that, and it would sadden us if you were to get hurt. But we also know that it’s your choice to make, not ours.”

  Major Puff stepped back, this time not out of anger, but because he was overwhelmed by Duane’s explanation, which in his heart he knew was true and sincere. In doing so, he found himself up against the back end of the cave, which he leaned on to steady his cold, tired body. “You really mean that?”

  “Of course,” replied Duane.

  “I don’t know what got into me. I was led to believe that you were all colluding with the great black-backed gulls.”

  Duane, still upon all fours, with a head that was throbbing, wasn’t
sure he’d heard right. “Wait, who would tell you such a thing?”

  “Some small, unpleasant creature. I did not know him, but he seemed to know me all too well. I daresay he was convincing enough for me to leave the burrow angrily before any of you arrived for my send-off.”

  Duane had his suspicions of who that unpleasant creature might be, but even so, it still didn’t explain everything. “But why are you hiding away in this cold—and I will now add, very cramped—cave, Major Puff?”

  The puffin stared at Duane in great distress. He tried to fight through it, stood up straight, and declared, “I don’t know!” Then just as quickly, his wings drooped down again, his head bent, and he spoke through tears long held in. “I didn’t want to fly south. I enjoy the burrow. It’s cozy and warm and I believe that I am well-liked, which is a new and pleasant experience, and… and… to be quite honest, I find that migrations are very taxing on the nerves.”

  Major Puff let out a huge sigh. The burden of his secret was cast off. He felt lighter but also embarrassed by his confession. Duane, however, felt nothing but sympathy and admiration for him, as well as an unrelated headache. When their eyes met, he gave Major Puff a small nod of understanding. A moment of silence passed in which the puffin regained his composure. Without any bluster, he said to Duane, “I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to keep this between ourselves.”

  Balancing himself on just three legs, Duane leaned forward to extend to the puffin his paw in friendship. “I give you my word, Major Puff, that nothing will leave this cave.” Thump! “Ow!” The third whack to his head dropped Duane onto his belly with his snout beside the puffin.

  You would be forgiven for thinking that the natural conclusion to this story is that Duane and Major Puff would leave the very cramped cave together and return to their respective homes. It certainly was what Duane and Major Puff were thinking. In fact, Major Puff said exactly that. “At this point, I think the proper thing to do is inform Twitch that I shall be remaining through the winter.”