by Sandra Knauf
“Instant gratification,” Elsie said without a moment’s hesitation. She smiled sweetly at Zera. In spite of herself, Zera smiled back. She couldn’t help but find Elsie’s swagger impressive. Elsie continued, “I know what I want. I want those slugs dead. And I don’t have time to mess around with beer and boards and such. I’ll have Juan try to find the slug bait.”
“Don’t have him do it. I’ll look, Elsie.” said Hattie.
After Elsie left, Hattie mumbled to Zera that it was a lost cause, at least for now. “I think I’ve got a length of old, damaged garden hose in Ladybug we can use.” Hattie went to the truck, returning with the hose she’d saved. She showed Zera how to cut it into six-inch lengths and then Hattie put the bait into the pieces, and placed them just outside the garden area.
“At least if we do it this way there’ll be a little better chance of not harming beneficial insects. If you just put this stuff on the ground it’s going to get into the soil, and into the food, even if it’s in minute particles. This way, you can just throw away the lengths of hose when they’re filled with dead slugs.” Her expression clouded even more. “Damnit, they’ll still be in the landfill, but . . . I wish she’d listen.”
“At least you tried,” Zera said.
“I always will.”
Elsie seemed quite pleased that things were done her way.
The three left and headed off to lunch.
* * *
At a tiny park across from a convenience store, Hattie parked Ladybug. They washed up at the store’s restroom, bought drinks and a few food items, then trekked back across the street, grabbing their sack lunches from the truck and finding a picnic table.
Eating her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and playfully protesting as Ben “stole” from her container of strawberries, Zera listened to Hattie talk about Elsie’s “groovy” salmon-pink and lemon-yellow Primula denticulata, or drumstick primroses, which were in full bloom. Then Hattie informed them she’d purchased a mobile v-phone the afternoon before.
“Ha,” said Ben to Zera. “She swore she’d never get one.”
“I know I did,” Hattie said, “but with Grandma Wren getting up in age — she’s ninety now, you know — I worry about her. I want her to be able to call me if she needs me, and it’s impossible to find regular cell phones anymore. Besides, some of my clients have almost insisted on it.” She mimicked a hoity-toity voice: “‘Hattie, you can see what plant we’re referring to if we need your advice, and you’re not here’ — as if nothing could wait a day or two. It’s solar-powered. I’ve had it for a week and still haven’t used it. I tried last night, and it didn’t work; I’d forgotten to keep it sun-charged!”
Zera and Ben laughed. “What’ll be next, Mom?” teased Ben. “A home theatre, with three walls covered with LCD flat screens? Maybe a computer in Ladybug?”
“Never!” said Hattie.
“What’s the big deal now?” said Ben. “After all, you do have a mobile-v.”
As they finished their food, Ben told Zera that he’d caught two garter snakes while at Elsie’s.
“In the rock garden?” asked Hattie. She picked up a potato chip and popped it into her mouth as her silver bracelets jingled. When Ben nodded, she said, between chews, “Thought so. They like it there.” She took a long chug of water and explained to Zera, “Elsie’s terrified of snakes, and we told her we’d remove any we found. I don’t like doing it because they’re a valuable part of the ecosystem, but she said that if we didn’t, her boyfriend would kill them.”
“That’s awful,” Zera said. “They’re completely harmless!”
“Well, that’s the way it is,” Hattie said. “Did you put them in a bucket?”
“Yeah,” said Ben, “They’re in the shade so they’ll be okay. They were freaked out after I caught them and kept trying to slither out. After I put some weeds over them they calmed down.”
“We take them to our garden,” Hattie told Zera. “Would you like to see them?”
“Sure,” Zera said. She imagined Ben capturing the snakes and a lightness filled her chest. She had never even touched one.
They finished their lunches, and while Hattie went to her truck to make her first mobile-v call ever, to a nursery to check on a flower order, Zera followed Ben to the back of the truck. Ben pulled out a large weed-collecting bucket that was now covered with a work shirt and a bungee cord. He hauled it to a shady spot underneath a tree and partially uncovered it.
Zera got down on her knees and peered in. She reached in and gently pushed the weeds aside, and Ben crouched down next to her. She could detect the scent of Ben’s shampoo and a slight sweatiness, a combination that made her pulse race. It mixed in with the smells of the wilting plant material, fragrant and green. The weeds felt cool and moist as they brushed her skin.
She spied them. Two snakes, around a foot long, were lying next to one another on the bottom of the white bucket. They were black with thin, almost luminous yellow stripes running down the length of their backs.
“Oh, look at them,” Zera murmured. She leaned in, keeping the shirt over the top of the bucket as much as possible. She smiled at Ben. “They’re so pretty. They’re ribbon snakes, Western ribbon snakes.” To the snakes she said, “Poor things, taken from your home. Don’t worry, Ben and Hattie will take good care of you.”
“Ribbon snakes?” said Ben. “Are you sure?”
Zera nodded. “Yeah. Garters are mottled, more irregular.” Zera blinked. She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but she was certain. She’d never studied snakes before and yet, she just knew.
The snakes, who would normally seek shelter when exposed, stayed still and calm. She touched one with her finger and it stretched out its body. Without thinking, she stroked its back with her finger, and it did not move. It felt cool, smooth. Its eyes closed drowsily. The second snake looked on, lying still. Zera watched them, mesmerized. She’d never touched a snake before, yet it seemed natural to do so and natural for them to respond without alarm. So beautiful.
Ben started to put his hand into the bucket and then pulled away, eyes huge. He quickly got to his feet. “Mom!” he yelled in the direction of Ladybug. “Come quick!”
He gaped at Zera. The snakes had slithered up her hands. Each had wrapped itself tightly around a wrist, twice, ending with its tail in its mouth. These double circles were stretched taut but motionless. The snakes’ eyes were open and staring up at Zera. Zera sat still and tranquil, seemingly oblivious. Her lips were parted with a slight smile, and a faraway look shone in her eyes, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Chapter Sixteen
Hattie came running. She saw the snakes, in their inexplicable tail-in-mouth positions around Zera’s wrists, for only a second before Ben reached down and grabbed them both, flinging them across the grass. Hattie gasped, an orange-nailed hand flying to her mouth.
Ben choked out the words, “What the hell was that?” He looked at Hattie, then at the parking lot and the park, as if expecting answers somewhere else. “Those snakes couldn’t have . . .”
Zera had not changed her tranquil expression, or her position on the grass.
“Are you okay?” Hattie squatted down, touched Zera’s shoulder. “Zera?” She raised her voice. “Zera!”
“You . . . you don’t think she’s been bitten?” Ben asked, his face pale. He grabbed Zera by both shoulders and shook her.
Zera shuddered. The calm expression disappeared. She looked up at them as if she had come out of a trance. “I, I heard them,” she said, her voice shaking. “They said they’re in danger, we’re all in danger.”
Zera blinked. She couldn’t believe her own words. Her eyes filled with tears. What is happening to me?
“They spoke?” said Hattie. She shook her head, rubbed her goose bump-covered arms. “I can’t believe what I just saw.”
Zera had stated the truth, as insane as it seemed. She did hear the snakes, and that is exactly what they had said. They didn’t move their mout
hs, they didn’t literally speak, but she clearly heard them. All are in danger.
“What danger?” Ben asked, looking around again. “There has to be something to this; it’s got to be some kind of a joke.” He looked at Zera as if she were a different person than the one he’d been flirting with all morning.
“You didn’t hear them?” Zera asked.
“No. This is messed up. I need a minute.” Ben set off towards the park.
A part of Zera desperately hoped that Hattie, with her impressive store of horticultural and animal knowledge, would have an answer to all this. That somehow a grownup would step in and make everything okay. Maybe she’ll say, I don’t know, sometimes snakes can coil around you . . . and speak? Her heart thumped. That’s not going to happen.
Hattie bent down and put an arm around Zera.
Zera took a deep breath, wiped her eyes on her T-shirt and tried to collect herself. Ben had seen it. Hattie had too. She took another deep breath. It’ll be okay. I’ll figure this out. She got to her feet.
“We’re going back to Ute Springs,” said Hattie. She yelled at Ben’s disappearing figure, “Ben, get back here!”
* * *
Heading down Golden Eagle pass, six miles out of Pinyon, Hattie took a turn onto a dirt road instead of continuing on to Highway 24, the road to Ute Springs.
Completely lost in her thoughts, Zera hardly noticed that Ben was sitting very close beside her, looking at her with concern, yet still completely freaked out. Zera’s mind was filled with the words. The snakes’ words. She had heard them so plainly, We’re in danger. All are in danger. She couldn’t believe that Ben hadn’t heard; the voices were so clear, so urgent. The possibility that she was losing her mind seemed the most obvious, but they’d seen the snakes too, seen them coil around her. There was something about it, something she couldn’t figure out that seemed familiar. And how did she know they were ribbon snakes, Western ribbon snakes, to be exact, not garter snakes like she’d been told? She had no knowledge of snakes, she had never studied them. Yet she even knew the name of the genus, Thamnophis. It was the same genus as garter snakes, but they were a different species, they were proximus. How could I possibly know all that? She shuddered.
“It’ll be okay, honey,” Hattie said. She patted Zera’s leg, and her silver bracelets jingled. “I’ve decided to stop by Grandma Wren’s first. She may be able to help.” She gave Zera a reassuring glance, yet Zera read worry in Hattie’s dark eyes.
As they climbed upward along the dirt road, the serpentine Falcon Pass, the scenery changed. They found themselves surrounded by stands of ponderosa pine, aspen, and scrub oak. Then the road dipped downward, back into boulder-strewn meadows, and after two more miles they slowed to a large gate just off-road. Horses grazed among the tall grass and wildflowers behind a fence.
The red truck pulled into a gravel driveway. By that time the sense of shock had eased. Zera watched as Ben jumped out to open the heavy steel gate. The truck rattled up a steep driveway to a shabby double-wide trailer. Its exterior was faded white and turquoise, with smeary orange rust patches along the roof. Next to it sat a tire-less 1950s Ford truck that was propped up by concrete blocks. The truck had once been red but was now bleached to a dull orange-pink.
The trio climbed the trailer’s rickety wood stairs and Hattie knocked.
To the tune of high-pitched barking, the door opened.
Grandmother Wren was tiny, under five feet. Her face, wizened with age, reminded Zera of a doll her dad had given her when he’d been researching early American music in Appalachia. It was an apple-head doll, its head made from a carved, then dried, apple that had become dark and wrinkled. Grandma Wren’s hair looked like the doll’s too, snow white, like cotton batting. Only her eyes were not doll-like; they were the black-brown of strong coffee — clear and alert — so like Hattie’s and Ben’s. A dingy white sweater covered her floral-patterned dress, and she wore cloth house slippers.
“Grandmother,” Hattie said.
“Hattie, Ben! Come in.” Grandma Wren pushed the door open wide.
Inside, Grandma Wren put her arms around Ben, and Ben hugged her tenderly. Zera thought it was sweet, and she was hopeful that maybe Ben was a little calmer by now.
“I had a dream about you three nights ago,” Grandma Wren said to Hattie. Her voice was sandpapery, yet the words were gently spoken. “And I had a dream about you, too, Zera Green,” she said.
Grandma Wren eyed Zera. Zera stared back, marveling how she’d said those words so matter-of-factly.
“We need your help, Grandmother. Something’s happened,” said Hattie.
“I know. I’ve been waiting.”
They were stunned by her comment.
The tiny living room, strewn with books and newspapers, smelled of musty dog, cooking oil, and relics of the past. A poodle, hairless except for its head, feet, and the tip of its tail, went from barking at Grandma Wren’s feet to hopping back onto the couch. Its tail wagged as it watched Zera.
Grandma Wren took Zera’s hands in her own. Under their boney, leathery surface, Zera felt warmth and strength.
The woman studied Zera’s face. “When the Creator first made the world and all the living things in it, all the plants and animals could communicate. They still do, it’s just that most people don’t hear them anymore. You do.”
Looking into Grandma Wren’s eyes, Zera felt calm for the first time since the snakes had wrapped themselves around her wrists. She had always suspected something about herself, something she felt within her very core but could not name — a sense that she could understand things about nature, about the feelings and intentions of living things, plants and animals. But she’d never had any proof that it was anything more than an overactive imagination. And, then, after her parents had died . . . Those feelings disappeared. I had almost forgotten them. She looked away, avoiding Grandma Wren’s gaze. It couldn’t be real. But her instincts told her it was. An excitement surged within her. She wasn’t insane. The snakes had spoken to her. Zera’s head swam with thoughts. What does it all mean? Why would they speak to me? How could I have this connection to Nature?
She looked into Grandma Wren’s dark eyes and blurted, “But I’m not even Ute!”
Grandma Wren cackled, revealing a strangely beautiful jack-o’-lantern smile. Still holding onto Zera’s hands she said, “My dear, knowledge and wisdom do not belong to only one group of people. They belong to all humankind. Please, sit down,” she said, still chuckling at Zera’s declaration. “Have a glass of water.”
Zera and Ben went to the couch, and the hairless poodle moved so they could sit down. Then it climbed over Zera and nestled between them.
Zera noticed the room contained an assortment of taxidermied animals: a huge beaver attached to a piece of giant driftwood on the wall above the television set, a big-mouth bass on the adjacent wall, a diamondback rattlesnake on a side table (rearing up, fangs bared), and a small gray squirrel atop a bookcase with a walnut in its paws.
Hattie, who was about to sit down in a chair next to them, whispered, “It was Benjamin’s late great-uncle Clyde’s hobby. We all think they’re weird, but Grandma Wren feels that they serve as reminders of what we should not do to nature.”
“Oh.” Yeah, pretty creepy.
“That’s Cookie,” said Grandma Wren, nodding at the dog from her rocking chair. “I don’t know why she lost her hair, but she’s been like that for months. I keep a sweater on her when it gets cold.”
As Zera petted the dog’s cool, oddly naked flesh, Cookie wagged her tail, and then rested her head on Zera’s leg. She needs sunshine, thought Zera. The information came to her as if it was simply common sense, even though she was as ignorant of dog skin conditions as she was of snakes. “Does she get outside much?”
Grandma Wren’s face crinkled. “She hasn’t been outside, not for any long period, since her pen was damaged last fall. I don’t like her out there, because of the cougars. I just haven’t been able to keep up
with things . . .” Her eyes brightened. “That’s what is wrong with her!”
Zera nodded.
Hattie cut in. “You know about the snakes, Grandmother? How could you? I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. It was like the old stories, but I saw it happen.”
Hattie told the story of the snakes while Grandma Wren sat there, rocking gently. Ben wore an expression of disbelief and something that looked like just-under-the-surface anger. He fidgeted and avoided eye contact with Zera. I’m having a hard enough time, thought Zera. I can’t even imagine what he thinks about it all.
When Hattie finished, Grandma Wren said, “Zera, I am ninety years old. I grew up here in the mountains, listening to my grandmother tell the stories about the Ute. Our stories. That was long ago, before our storytelling tradition was nearly abandoned. I remembered them all, though, and passed them on to whoever would listen. Hattie’s heard them.”
Hattie nodded.
Grandma Wren continued. “Three nights ago the guardian visited me in a dream. In it, the world was turned upside down. Plants no longer knew who they were; people no longer knew who they were. Too many no longer see that they are a part of the natural world. Man and woman, for so long, have forgotten their first roles as protectors.” She looked up at Hattie. “The guardian told me you would bring Zera. She is going to help change things.”
Zera’s stomach lurched. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ben shake his head.
“Who, or what’s, the guardian?” asked Hattie.
“The guardian is the link from the spirit world to our world.” Grandma Wren leaned forward in her chair. “He takes many forms. Last night he appeared as Dancing Crow, a medicine man my family knew when I was a child. I’d forgotten about him, he’s been gone for over eighty years.”
Zera spoke up. “What were the snakes doing, Grandma Wren?”
“They told you about the danger. But they were also telling you about life.” Her thin, leathery arm gestured toward the pitcher on the coffee table. “Please, have some water.”