The Mission

Barry McDonald sat back impatiently, waiting for the call to go through. The line crackled and gurgled as his call made it's way to Burnaby, a suburb of Vancouver.

"Granny, please pick up," Barry thought to himself, nervously.

"Hallo," said a quiet, young voice. It was Barry's 7 year-old sister.

"Melanie," Barry spoke. " I wanna talk to Granny." The voice at the other end was silent for a moment. "Granny's not here. Do you want to talk to Mother?"

"No thanks." Barry was disappointed.

The young voice spoke up again.

"Granny's in the hospital. Mother wants to talk to you." Barry quickly decided he didn't want to talk to his mother. She had already given him $500 a week ago, but he had lost it at the hostel he was staying in Belize. After a night of drinking with a local girl, he passed out and woke up with $400 missing along with a few doobies of weed. Mother would not understand and Granny always had a soft and generous heart for her Grandson.

"Tell Mother I will call her later, " Barry said, pressing the end button on his iPhone.

The streets of Belize was alive with tourists going to various sightseeing destinations. From the hostel, he found his way to an outside table at the Rosita Bar and Grill. He waived down a server, who passed him a cold bottle of Belikin, the local beer in Belize. He was feeling depressed that he would have to end his backpacking vacation sooner than he wanted to. With just $100, and an open ticket, his days in Belize would have to end in a few days...unless he could find a way out.

Nearby, an older man and a young woman in her twenties were eating chicken wings and drinking rum and cola. The couple spoke in loud, argumentative tones and it was clear that they had been drinking for more than a few hours.

"Frida, forget about it. We already went to half a dozen pet stores, and we couldn't find it," said the man in his fifties, dressed in a white cotton shirt, soiled with perspiration and khaki shorts.

"Honey," Frida said. " We got to do something about that don't we?" She was wearing red lipstick and her white teeth shone brightly in the hot sun.

She slurred her words and said, " We got to take home a souvenir. Anything Frida wants, Frida gets. That is what you told me when we got married, right?"

"Oh, honey," Stan, her husband, looked exasperated. "We tried but we just cannot."

Barry felt happier that his money woes could be over. He thought to himself that he might just be able to make a few dollars by acting as a local tour guide for this couple.

"Hi. I am Barry. I can be your guide and get you anything you want. Name your price," Barry said confidently, moving his chair closer to the couple.

In a few moments, after some careful haggling, Barry made a deal with the couple to take a scarlet macaw from the deep forests of Belize. He was careful to take a down payment of $200 US from the couple, and the couple offered to give him the balance of $700 US later.

"Tomorrow, I will get you a macaw," Barry said, smirking and jotting down the address of the hotel the couple was staying at.

Barry was feeling happy and excited. He just knew where to find a scarlet macaw --near the Mayan Village of Red Bank in South Stann Creek.

He rushed back to the hostel to get a local map and pack his bags. It was going to be a long night. He needed to buy a long net, pack some food and head out to the jungle.

It was 4 pm when he finally made his way to the main road, where he intended to ask a local driver for a lift to the village. Barry also noticed a familiar face who went by the name of Art Young, a twenty-something American who liked to try the local weed and spend his days stoned in the hostel.

"Hola," Art said, "Where are you going in such a hurry, Bro?''

"Gotta run, gotta run, man," Barry said. "I am going to catch myself a macaw," Barry bragged. He knew that Art could be trusted since his friend spent time in prison for theft in the United States.

Art seemed a little surprised. "Good luck, bro. There aren't too many left. Some say only 250 in the wild. How much you getting for it?" After Barry told him the price, Art threw back his head and laughed. " I shore could get a whole bunch of weed for that price."

The 2 men patted each other on the back before they parted --Barry to the forests of Belize and Art to the small upper bunk of Tito's hostel.

Barry smiled back at Art and was happy to have been handed a handful of magic mushrooms. He had no place to put them since his duffle bag was all tied up and quickly threw the small bits of mushrooms in his pocket, which also contained a small bag of peanuts taken from the airline.

It was 7 pm before Barry finally managed to arrive at the outskirts of the jungle, thanks to a ride from a passing truck driver hauling logs.

"Gracias," Barry said, suddenly realizing he had left all his food on the backseat of the truck --his 2 cans of cola, leftover conch fritters, 2 Fry Jacks, and 3 Johnny Cakes.

"Stop!," Barry yelled. Too late...the truck driver had turned a corner and disappeared along the dirt road.

Pulling out his map, Barry turned his attention to the jungle and looked above him. Although he couldn't see any parrots, he told himself he would find the birds the more he walked into the bushes. As he walked, the more the sun came down and the sounds of the night life came more louder and more frightening. He looked all around him and although he could hear the sounds of animal and bird life, he couldn't see anything in the dark.

Barry was also getting hungrier and hungrier as it had been a full 12 hours before he had eaten some Chaya, or Maya spinach and eggs. His stomach growled and then Barry remembered about some peanuts he had put in his pocket. Although the peanut bag had broken in his pocket, he grabbed a handful of nuts and accidentally chewed on some of the magic mushrooms that Art had given him earlier.

He washed it all down with water that he had brought with him. This gave him some relief and the young man walked a few feet before he felt his legs give way and his eyes grow heavy. He passed out in an instant.

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, Barry felt the space around him move and jump in circular motions. Everything around him was glowing and pulsing freely and even all the colours seem to smile and laugh at him. He felt that he was in some kind of psychedelic painting and he felt that he could hear everything to the tiniest detail. All around him he could see different shapes of varying forms swaying in the breeze. Red, blue, yellow and purple colours danced in front of his eyes. He felt suddenly happy and at peace for the first time in his life. The feelings of contentment didn't last long and when he blinked, he found himself shaking with surprise and shock.

When he looked up, he saw a bird staring down at him. It was a scarlet macaw, but it was 40 feet large! The bird looked at him and spoke in a deep voice, " Go home, Barry. You don't belong here. I know you want to catch and sell me but I am not for sale. I belong here."

Barry flushed with fear as well as embarrassment.

"How did you know?," Barry said, quietly, wiping away sleep from his eyes.

The scarlet macaw looked at him with calmness and spoke again, "Go home. Tell your friends that the scarlet macaw is not for sale. We don't want to disappear from our mother, fathers, grandparents, and ancestors." The macaw looked sad, and tears began to roll down the bird's eyes.

Then the bird shook its feathers and spread its red wings to show off its tremendous size and beauty.

"I will destroy you if you destroy us!," the bird warned. Barry felt the bird's beak and claws start to peck at his skin and tear off his clothes until he was entirely naked.

Barry lifted his arms to defend himself but it was to no avail. The bird pecked him, and continued to peck him until he felt all bloody and helpless.

He knew he was dying and all he wanted most was to go home and forget about the scarlet macaw. "Please God, help me!" Barry prayed before he passed out again.

It was 7 hours before Barry found himself at a local hospital in Belize. He was fine, except for a few scratch marks. The doctors treated him for a drug reaction to the magic mushrooms. But Barry insisted that the whole incident was real. He had proof, he told them. He showed off to anyone who asked him the image of an angry scarlet macaw with outstretched wings on his left arm. It was clearly a tattoo alright, but locals to this day in Belize say that the tattoo does not come from any local dye or pigment known to man.

Now 30, Barry doesn't speak much about his trip to Belize. Instead he spends his days drawing and painting the image of a giant scarlet macaw with outstretched wings. He tells people who drop by his art gallery on Granville street in Vancouver that "Nature is all about freedom. Let the scarlet macaws and all birds and animals of the forest go free. Freedom is love and love is freedom."