The Hunt

Sunrise, how beautiful. I rise early in the morning with the sun, the smell of the dew feeling my lungs. I call out to my flock and we gather on a Aguaje Palm Tree to watch the fog lift from the forest. The sunlight graces us, and we stretch to warm our self’s. The fractals of light glistening from our wingspan. The sun peers over Montanas Mayas, and it’s time to rise.

I make the first jump and the flock follows, heading for the edge of Nim Li Punit, just off The Gulf of Honduras. The wind from the coming monsoon catches us, scattering the flock across Doyle’s Delight. I begin to seek refuge where I can. The darkening sky’s bringing trickling rain. Patiently I wait, as the trees begin to sway violently the rain quickens. I call out amid the gale, with hopes to be heard by the others.

With so few of us left, I’m worrisome. Once, hundreds of us congregated together from all over. Now my flock has dwindled to seventy at best. I think back to how beautiful we all looked swimming the breeze clustered above the rain forest. Oh the gracefulness of our community. As the storm passes, the clouds break way and the sun begins to peek its head out.

I begin to shake the beads of water from my tail feathers in preparation for flight, not knowing this was just the beginning. I fly tree to tree searching franticly for the others only hearing the wind whistle back. It continued this way for some time, until I reached Palmar Camp.

Suddenly the soft crunch of a leaf catches my attention. The unsettling sound sending chills through my body. Sensing something was amiss, I perch quietly veiled amongst the branches. I watch as two obscure figures venture the forest floor. They talk amongst them selves for a moment then continue, forcing their way through the thicket.

I begin to chart their movement south, noticing one is carrying a cage containing two of my consorts. Their pace hastens as they hear a jaguar in the distance. I trail closely behind them using the lively sounds of the jungle to mask the sound of my wings. With every movement I gain ground. Presumably so does the jaguar. We’re both on the trail of the obscure, for something of hers was also taken in the storm.

They come to a clearing ruffly 4 miles west of Nim Li Punit, where our homes have been furthermore desecrated by their presents. My heart breaks a little more with each fell tree. Not much use in crying any more, they’ve stopped noticing the beautiful little things long ago. That love disappeared with the tribes of old.

I roost on a mahogany tree at the edge of their encampment awaiting sunset, as well as the jaguar. She’ll come when they least expect. As the sun disappears in the distance the sky darkens. I catch wind of a soft whine from what I assume is the jaguar’s cub. Shell come to take back what’s hers. That’s when I’ll make my move as well.

Hours pass, the sound of the jungle softens. Only the crackling of a dyeing fire can be heard. It’s peaceful, as the moon lights up the side of the mountain. That’s when I see her, the star light catching her coat. Almost motionless she moves towards the tent. She pauses just short of the entryway. Knowing she’s come vengeance, just as I have.

She calmly lays back and bides her time to take her prey. Then pounces, she takes the first by the neck, then the second. She’s swift like the wind, quick and cunning never making a sound. Approaching the cages, she greets her cub with a soft grunt. I watch as she begins to paw at the latch, trying to open it with no success.

Finally, I make my approach knowing there is a good chance I’ll meet death. I circle above the cluster of cages where her cub and my confreres are, hoping my help is accepted. I’m spotted in the air; she makes no sudden movements then groans in agony for her cub. That’s my go ahead “I think to myself,” I swoop in and pull the latch, opening the cage.

I fly off as quickly as I came in, watching the two disappear into the bush. I listen to their footsteps fade into the distance. After that long wait, I’m able to free my brethren from their cage. Being hunted for our feathers & to be flightless house pets held in vain. They’re the lucky ones that were saved.

From seventy to just three in only two days. Our strength being in our numbers, we have a lot of work ahead of us to find the rest. We find a Ceiba tree and nest the remainder of the night. God how virtuous it feels to have some of my familia back together.

Dawn, the morning brings new light to the situation. Feeling as if we must deal with the situation aggressively, time is of the essence. We make haste west, towards Little Quarts Ridge. Hoping, praying we locate more of our flock.

We start through the canopy passing clusters of black orchids, and cashew trees. Spending half the day scowering the forest floor were tiresome. Luckily, we come to a mango tree to rest, which is a rarity to find any more.

I hear it, a soft thundering sound. The others and I stop abruptly, I’m the first to call out. The sound loudens, we call out together this time. Could it be, our congregation? The three of us flew from the treetops, greeted with a warm welcome from the others.

After days we can finally commune together, rest in one another. A truly thankful feeling to be reunited. This is only for today; however, furthermore the obscure never cease their hunt for vanity.

C. C. Edmonds