Killdeer Dance

by Ronn Fryer

  She didn’t even remember the short walk back to the tower and her truck. Worse, her soggy, bloodshot eyes and runny nose made it nearly impossible to drive. It would be a miracle if all of her friend’s hard work wasn’t completely destroyed.

  Olivia hoped she might be able to salvage some of Tina’s artistry once she got home – at least enough to avoid looking like one of Barnum and Bailey’s nightmare inducing mirth-makers. Maybe she could even reapply her mascara, without multiple clumps.

  Wiping her eyes for the umpteenth time, she blinked hard and tried to focus. Luckily, she didn’t have far to go.

  Chapter 13 – Girl Sense

  Back at the cabin, Olivia went right over to the kits, uncovered their box and began lavishing them with some intense TLC. Even if they didn’t comprehend the reason behind the extra attention, they certainly didn’t object.

  Once they’d been sufficiently indulged, Livvy headed to the bathroom. There was enough dirt under her fingernails to start a small garden. Proud of her moons, she favored clear polish, but the sheen simply enhanced the dark rings of sandy loam wedged under her nails.

  Scrubbing her fingers in the sink, she again caught her reflection. The image was shocking. Ashamed of her irresponsibly, she was appalled at the damage incurred to Tina’s artistry. It was as if she’d defaced a treasured portrait.

  After briskly drying her hands, she reached for a Kleenex. Moistening the end with tap water, she dabbed at the mascara that had dripped down into an impressive imitation of Alice Cooper’s eerie persona. Then, collecting the cosmetics she’d been given, she began some intense reparation. She’d never match Tina’s skill, but anything was an improvement.

  Ten minutes later she put her things down and took a final inspection. Not perfect, but a damn sight better. Satisfied that she’d done her best, she pulled the light string and went to feed the kits. The day’s events had thoroughly drained her, and the challenge now was to simply make it to bed before she collapsed. If there was any mercy in the world, she’d be spared any more bad dreams.

  Olivia didn’t recall any dreams when she woke; but, when the alarm clock chimed, she rolled over, opened one eye, and discovered the majority of her artistry smeared across the pillow.

  Well shit!

  Underestimating her friend’s girl-sense, Tina didn’t think she had to actually tell Livvy to wash her face before retiring. Olivia, conversely, didn’t understand why her friend would go to all that trouble just to have it washed down the sink. Afraid of negating her restoration efforts, she’d tried to sleep on her back all night. Evidently, she’d failed. Oh well, live and learn.

  As she stepped out of the shower, with face delicately cleansed to its former gory, Olivia acquiesced, acknowledging that vanity was a luxury few mothers can afford. Like it or not, she knew Revlon simply had to relinquish to responsibility. Olivia had no choice but begin the day focused on the kits. Self-centered musings were yesterday’s extravagance.

  With a towel wrapped around her, she headed for the kitchen. She couldn’t possibly apply fresh concealer and smoky shadow to the sound of hungry cries. And, although she definitely needed additional practice with mascara (not to mention learning how to avoid poking herself in the eye with the liner), the reflection in the mirror told her she already had more than enough ‘contrast.’

  Besides, no one was going to see her up in the tower anyway. All this concern with her face was silly. She should have thoroughly washed her face before going to bed last night, along with scrubbing the whole notion of beauty from her mind.

  Right after she fed her little darlings, she reached for the truck keys and made herself a promise – no more obsession with her looks. The kits and her job needed her full attention.

  Chapter 14 – Skybox Scrutiny

  Olivia’s job may have been simple enough initially, but her new family complicated things considerably. Babies grow quickly, and she couldn’t continue to carry the kits in her shirt pockets indefinitely. For the time being, however, it seemed her best option. She’d managed to fit the towel-lined shoebox inside her backpack, hoping they’d be content there.

  No such luck.

  They yelped the moment she closed the lid. Making the climb with them inside the cardboard den would have been far more convenient, especially when they indulged in their only other activity besides eating and sleeping. The kits, however, felt the towels were a poor substitute for her bosom, modest as it may have been. So, Olivia stuffed the empty shoebox in her backpack and the kits in their respective pockets. Child psychologists may have frowned at such coddling, but the traumatic loss the kit’s had endured, and the location of her job, seemed to trump all their convenient dogmatic propositions.

  Even with empty shirt pockets, ascending the narrow rungs of the tower’s ladder, with its straight vertical rise of ninety plus feet, was a definite challenge. More than a few adventurous climbers thought better of it after a couple dozen feet. Before the treetops were even cleared, the little box in the sky seemed a damn sight higher than it did from the ground. And those that weren’t completely put off by the height, soon discovered that the slight rustle of wind at ground level often swelled into heart-stopping gusts, half way up.

  Although no one other than certified forest service personnel had any business climbing the tower, attempting to scale it was nearly a local rite of passage. Unlike most adventurers however (especially young males fearful of tarnishing their macho image), Olivia had nothing to prove. She’d developed a deep respect of the danger on her very first climb.

  This morning, however, it barely registered. Her mind had drifted off, busily breaking the promise she’d made an hour earlier. Even though her recent fascination with pretty was pretty uncharacteristic, she was still a girl, after all – typical or otherwise.

  As soon as she entered the little windowed-cubicle, gently closing the hatch door so as not to frighten the kits, she plucked the babies from their cozy habitat. Time to relocate them into the shoebox.

  Naturally, they fussed a little, unwilling to relinquish their comfort without voicing some complaint. That was to be expected, of course. Still, they’d already had their breakfast, no reason to feel any guilt letting them readjust to their cardboard home, placed safely in the corner. She certainly couldn’t get anything done with them nuzzling her all day. Given half a chance, they probably would’ve crawled right inside her bra. Such distractions she did not need! She had more than enough to do today.

  Even so, she convinced herself that one more, slight delay, couldn’t hurt. With only the faintest contrition, she pulled the tube of lip gloss and hand mirror from her backpack. This would only take a moment. Reveling in her appearance a bit too long, however, Olivia’s conscience flared. She’d primped more than enough, time to begin her daily routine. After all, her salary certainly wasn’t based on her looks.

  The panoramic view from the multi-paned windows was breathtaking as usual. The sky was clear, almost cloudless, and the Lake Huron shoreline was visible from Harrisville all the way to Tawas. The scene could not have been more spectacular if one were perched in the cockpit of a Cessna. Meanwhile, the air base with its significantly larger aircraft, stretched out between patches of foliage, seemingly still asleep.

  Olivia took a quick visual of the landscape. The dump always had a little plume wafting up, nothing of concern there. The wind was barely ten knots. Everything seemed calm and complacent; time to start her morning ritual, performing a practice run on the fire locator.

  Mounted securely on a four-foot table in the center of the little shack, the Osborn Firefinder took up the majority of the seven foot square interior. In the right hands, the device was amazingly accurate in locating a fire. Developing the right hands, however, took practice. It wasn’t really all that complicated once you got the hang of it, but relaying accurate bearings in the event of an actual fire was absolutely critical. Proficiency became a matter of intense pride for every fire spotter.

  The basic principle of
the Osborn was simple enough. A round metal frame held a three-foot circular piece of glass set over a map of the area. Around the circumference of the frame were two contiguous rings, one fixed (facing North), with bearing numbers etched along its edge. The other (also with gauge marks), was moveable.

  Two ten-inch brass uprights, extended from opposing sides of the moveable ring’s diameter. Crosshairs from actual horsetail strands were mounted inside the opening of the first upright. The second upright contained a peephole opening. Sighting through this opening (much like a gunsight), you aligned it on the crosshairs of the opposing upright, which was then centered on the fire.

  Once aligned correctly, you checked the gauge marks on the fixed ring. That determined the bearing, in degrees. Although the upright with the peephole also had a sliding marker to determine elevation, the local terrain was pretty flat, not mountainous, so it wasn’t much of a concern.

  Once the directional bearing was determined, the only other crucial factor was distance. That was a little trickier, requiring the ability to read a map with some discretion. A thin measure tape ran between the uprights, with a pin (representing the location of the tower), fixed in the center of the map. Two inches on the measuring tape equaled a mile.

  In order to determine the fire’s distance, you had to visualize where the plume emanated on the map. Coordinates off by a mere half inch could send firefighters the better part of a mile from a potential blaze. Forgiveness would be a hard sell from firefighters who had to lug heavy equipment unnecessarily through rough terrain. Even in a best case scenario their task would be exhausting; conserving energy was absolutely vital.

  Three additional things were essential for a fire spotter: a quality pair of binoculars, the ability to decipher topography, and a strong knowledge of local landmarks. Olivia possessed the first two and had been promising herself to develop the third.

  As always, her morning began by squirting the Osborn’s glass with Windex. Dust evidently, never slept. Vigorously wiping off the spray, she then spun the outer ring. After her supervisor had instructed her on the device, he’d shown her how to wipe the rings with a soft cloth dipped lightly in 3-in-1 oil. Yes – she understood how the Osborn worked (basically), and no – she wouldn’t neglect it, make sure it remained spotless. Having completed her orientation, he nodded, climbed down the ladder, and drove away. Olivia had not seen him since.

  Not taking anything for granted, she seldom hurried her duties. Today, as usual, she ran both distance and bearing a second time. Revisiting an imagined fire site and getting identical numbers did wonders for her self-esteem. This morning, however, her self-worth seemed to be determined by the mirror she’d again taken from her backpack.

  With only lip gloss, her face now seemed strangely bare. Her new infatuation might be forgiven though, makeup seemed amazing. Even applied by a beginner like herself, cosmetics seemed to magically transform her looks. It even disguised her inherent flaws and imperfections, transcending her face into a strange new entity – something that might actually be acceptable; and, maybe even considered pretty.

  Pretty – what an interesting concept. What made someone pretty? Was it just beauty products? Other things certainly helped – facial symmetry and alluring features. Naturally everyone wanted silky hair, clear skin, big eyes, and high cheekbones.

  Studying her reflection, Olivia tried to decide if she had good bone structure. Her skin was clear enough and she rather liked her green, sometimes hazel, eyes. Was that enough though? Did people think she was pretty? More importantly, did she think she was? It was so hard to assess her own prettiness. Without makeup, she just looked like she always did.

  Setting the mirror down, she glanced back down to the treetops. Revelations could be hiding there easily as anywhere. Allusive as answers might be, questions, nevertheless, seemed to abound.

  How important was prettiness? And who decided what made someone pretty? Olivia wondered if people would treat her differently if they thought she was pretty. Then again, could she actually respect anyone that liked her, just because of her looks?

  On and on, she mused, one question after another, until she finally stumbled on the real issue. Everything aside – would she like herself more if she was pretty?

  Chapter 15 – Litmus Test

  Embarrassed by her brush with narcissism, Olivia spent the following day focused solely on her job and the kits. The tower basically only required her presence, whereas the foxes seemed to need unending attention. She couldn’t imagine how wild parents ever managed.

  Knowing how desperate Olivia had been for information on how to care for the kits, Tina had taken a trip to the library. Livvy couldn’t find the words to express her gratitude. Although the book she’d checked out was about puppies, they both agreed baby foxes couldn’t be much different.

  Less than a third of the way through, Olivia was convinced its contents would not only save the day, it might save the kits as well. It was full of pertinent information; even little things, like don’t feed them too much at once – just more often. Great to know, but easier said than done.

  Seemed she barely had time to put things away before the larger kit felt it was feeding time again. He may not have been able to see yet, but his ears were definitely functional. He yelped every time Olivia stepped near their box. Nuisance aside; that was a good sign – food was strength. The problem however, was that the other one appeared to have lost its appetite. That wasn’t a good sign.

  It was hard to know for sure, but the more energetic one appeared to be male. Olivia thought she felt a definite clump in the fluffy base of its tail. She’d felt a little intrusive, poking between its back legs, but reminded herself it was all just part of being a mother.

  Paging through the book, Olivia came across other invaluable revelations. She had no idea newborns sometimes need help doing their business. Okay, no time to start acting all prissy.

  After a few awkward attempts, she found it fairly easy to stimulate their little sphincter muscles, imitating the method pictured. The soft-cloth massage worked surprisingly well. She was delighted when the kits accommodated her after she applied a little warm water. That was a good thing too. Dedicated as she may have been, she wasn’t about to emulate their biological mother’s technique.

  According to the author, baby canines would typically be ‘potty’ self-sufficient in about three weeks. Her present fear, however, centered on the little female. If she didn’t start eating soon, she might not make it that long. Evidently their urine should be pale yellow, or better yet clear. Orange was supposedly bad, but Olivia had no way to tell, the poor thing hadn’t peed since yesterday.

  Chapter 16 – Let There Be Light

  Another day, another dollar. Gainful employment, the ultimate trade-off. Thank goodness there was no clock up in tower. Strange how time dragged up there, but flew by at home. Olivia didn’t hate her job, it just didn’t seem fair.

  Right after she finished her morning necessities, Livvy headed to the kitchen. Yawning, she struck a match and turned the knob for the stove’s top burner. It wouldn’t take long to warm a new batch of formula and a shower could wait a few more minutes. Her only concern was Felicity’s appetite. She still couldn’t get anything into the little female’s tummy.

  She’d actually just pulled the name out of thin air. It came to her after a quick mental rundown of girl names starting with F. Always fond of alliterated names, Olivia thought Felicity Fox sounded like a celebrity.

  Arvy, however, would never be a celebrity or famous for any reason, unless it was for his appetite. He was hungry from morning to night. Adjusting to his new life wasn’t a problem, just as long as his belly was full. Everything considered, that didn’t seem to be too much to ask.

  Cradling him in her hand, with his little snoot facing the crotch of her thumb, Olivia dapped a few warm drops of the formula on her skin. The pint-sized alpha male was a fast learner and evidently a good predator. His mouth opened before his breakfast had a sligh
test chance to escape. He greedily lapped up a good portion, burped, and then stopped abruptly.

  Something very strange had just occurred – he experienced light for the first time.

  He opened one lid, blinked several times, then the other one stretched open. As much as his stomach demanded attention, this curious sensation was just too baffling. Whatever this new vision thing was, it was already competing with touch, sound, and smell – all the known elements of existence.

  Just before he returned to the dire matters of nutrition, his little canine brain discovered yet another phenomenon. Not only did this blurry fishbowl sensation offer light straight ahead, it expanded when he twisted his neck.

  With formula dripping from newly-sprouting whiskers, Arvy raised his head and looked up. Although he had no language capable of expressing the wonder of his first visual experience, it confirmed his suspicion. Whoever this strange being staring back at him might be, it was the same entity who’d been providing all this love and devotion.

  His tiny brain may just have been developing, but it assured him that this was definitely his mother, even if he had no idea how she’d changed so drastically.

  Her smell was nothing like his earliest memories and she’d grown so big she could carry them far from the den, even without her teeth. She also made a multitude of strange sounds, none of which remotely resembled a bark. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking the one furnishing life-giving sustenance and such tremendous adoration.

  Taking her in with his new vision thing, however, one thing his brain could not explain – he couldn’t quite fathom how she’d lost most all of her fur.

  Chapter 17 – Size Doesn’t Matter