The Boy Who Understood
by Biff Spork
Chapter 5
Missing Chickens and The Mara
Zhiv and David hiked through the pines scattered atop the ridge. David sank into the dreamlike quality of the day. Striding ahead of him, the tanned boy seemed like a vision. The puma, the bear and a coyote keeping pace nearby added to the feeling of being in a different reality. When David thought about it, he felt faint and over-excited, so he attempted to experience it without analysis. That could come later.
Zhiv led them down from the ridge to a large cleft an ancient earthquake had fractured in the rock. A mule deer buck nibbled on the grass nearby, and Erg, the mountain lion, settled on his haunches. The boys approached the opening in the cliff face. Deeper within, a wide cave entrance yawned.
The stag trotted to the boys and put his chin on Zhiv's shoulder while the boy caressed and patted his neck. The deer turned his dark, limpid eyes to David. He knew a hug was appropriate, but he held back, uncertain how to approach the rack of sharp antlers.
The buck lifted his head high and nosed David's cheek. As the cool, damp nose touched his face, David felt a strong, noble presence in his mind. He reached up and rubbed and scratched the deer's chin and neck.
"The deer's name is Belnit," said Zhiv, while he spread David's damp clothing to dry in the hot sunshine. "He's very important to the mara. He'll tell everyone that you're finally here."
Zhiv led the way into the cave. Enough light came through the entrance that David could see they were in an immense cavern. Bats fluttered around the boys' heads as they entered. David yipped in alarm, and Zhiv reached out and held his arm.
"Don't be afraid, David. Nothing will hurt you here."
As the bats flapped back to roosts deeper in the darkness, David said, "It's just, I'm not used to bats…"
"Yeah, I used to be scared of them, too. But once I got to know them a little bit — they're okay."
Zhiv seated himself on a boulder beside the ashes of a small fire and gestured to a nearby nest of ferns and dry grass. "This is where I sleep."
David sat on another boulder and looked around as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light. Aside from the fireplace and the humble bed, there was little to indicate anyone lived there. "This is the mara?" he asked.
"Well, yes and no," said Zhiv. "It's kind of long and complicated." He put his finger to his lips for a few seconds, then continued, "In words, it's long and complicated, and I doubt if I can truly tell you. That's because it's not in words. The mara is in feelings, and pictures, and sounds, things you sense with your mind. You don't think about them. You sense them directly. You need to feel it. Then you'll understand it. But in one way, whenever you're with me, you're in a mara."
"Okay," said David. "I don't understand, but I always like that feeling. Not understanding is great!"
Zhiv smiled. "I knew you would like it here."
David opened his back-pack. "I'll tell you something I do understand: I'm starving, and I've made a bunch of my favorite sandwiches for us. Are you hungry?"
"Always!"
David handed him an avocado sandwich and laid others out on a napkin.
"Uhhh." Zhiv sounded embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I have to ask: What's in this sandwich?"
"It's an avocado sandwich," said David.
"There's no meat or cheese or anything like that?"
"No, no," said David. "I'm vegan. I'll never give you anything to eat that isn't vegan."
"Oh! Wonderful! I'm vegan too." Zhiv tore into the sandwich.
David pulled out two juice boxes and some oranges. Zhiv popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. David handed him another.
"Oh, David, these are so good," he said, though his mouth was full. "I forgot what this kind of food tastes like. I've been living on nuts and seeds and roots for a long time."
"There's more in the pack. I'm glad I brought a lot. And there's some of those vegan bars too." He ate a sandwich himself, but he found greater satisfaction in watching Zhiv's enjoyment.
Zhiv finished the last sandwich, sat back with his eyes closed, and groaned with satisfaction. David peeled an orange and handed him half.
When Zhiv had swallowed the last orange segment, he said, "I don't remember the last time I was full, really full. Look at me. It's like I'm going to have a baby." He took David's hand and laid it on his taut, protruding belly.
David leaned over without thinking, laid his ear there, and heard the gurgling of Zhiv's stomach. Then he moved his head up and listened to the boy's heartbeat. Zhiv put a hand on David's back and they sat like that for a minute.
Zhiv breathed a long sigh. "It's so good you're here. Thank you."
"I'm happy to be here."
"Let's go sit in the sun," said Zhiv. "I sleep in here, but it's much nicer outside."
Celia Duffy parked her hybrid in the well-kept rural yard. The house was a mock log cabin set in a grove of tall pines. The roof of a small red barn was visible at the rear. She got out of the car with her briefcase in hand. She was tired. This was her last call of the day, a new case.
A local woman had visited their Social Services office in town. She was worried about her seventy-nine-year-old mother, widowed in a recent tragedy. The husband had died in an accident involving horses on the hobby farm where they had retired. The woman worried that her mother would be unable to cope now that she was alone. The widow had refused to consider moving into an old folks home. Celia had agreed to assess the situation.
Using a brass steer's head knocker on the front door, Celia announced her arrival. A gray-haired woman opened the door. Celia introduced herself, explained the reason for her call, and was invited inside. They sat at the kitchen table.
Mrs. Wilkins stated firmly that she had no difficulty taking care of herself, and she wanted to stay where she was. She was aware of the changes her husband's death would bring, but she didn't seem to be grieving.
"It must be a terrible shock, to lose someone so close to you for so many years," Celia said. She hoped her gentle prompt would release the grief she imagined the woman must be feeling.
"It was a surprise," said the widow. She looked at Celia through dry eyes and added, "But he had it coming. He was a mean bugger, mean to everyone and everything around him. He liked it when he made something suffer. I loved him when we were young, but he killed that, a long time ago. I expect I'll be happier now, once I get things squared away. He was just plain mean. If you want to do something for me, you can help with the will, and the deeds, and banks, and all that legal stuff."
It took Celia a moment to digest what Mrs. Wilkins had disclosed. When she looked up, the woman continued.
"What really bothers me is that someone stole all my chickens. At least, they're gone."
"A lot of chickens?" asked Celia, unsure how to proceed.
"No, only a half dozen hens and a rooster. I keep them to give me some eggs and a chicken pot pie now and then. Every year or so when one of them gets broody, I let her raise a clutch. I haven't bought eggs or chickens for years now." She sat back and nodded.
"After the horses killed Dick, I went out near dark to close the chicken coop — we've got coyotes around here. The coop was empty, not a single chicken on any of the roosts or in the nests, and I haven't seen them since. Now I have to go to the feed store and order chicks from the hatchery. It'll be months before they start to lay."
"Do you think it could have been coyotes, or a fox, or something?"
"No, there would have been feathers all over the place if it was an animal. No, somebody likely stole them. Maybe somebody heard Dick was dead and decided to take advantage."
"That's too bad."
"Yeah," said the woman in a choked voice.
Celia looked up and saw a tear rolling down the wrinkled cheek.
"I really miss them. It's too quiet. You know, they make a nice noise — that sorta contented clucking they do. And they get so excited and happy when they lay an egg — beautiful eggs — you can't buy eggs like that. They have a special taste when they're fresh like that."
An hour and two cups of tea later, Celia put her briefcase on the passenger seat and drove out to the highway. She had made a start on the paperwork, and they had made an appointment for a follow-up visit.
As she pulled onto the pavement, Celia thought about the report she had to write. She decided she would describe the widow as 'coping well' with her grief. Celia would also mention informing the authorities about the missing chickens. She made a mental note to call the sheriff's office and report the theft when she got back to her desk.
Outside the cave, the boys seated themselves on a flat, sun-warmed boulder near the edge of a cliff. They could see for miles. Before them lay the forested slopes of the park and the vast wound of the clear-cut. The valley floor was a patchwork of green and brown farm fields with the highway winding through them in gentle curves.
"You said I need to feel the mara to understand it," said David. "How can I feel it?"
"Come closer," said Zhiv, "so we're touching. It'll be easier for you to understand if we're touching." They sat pressed against each other along one side. Zhiv took David's hand.
"The mara is a bunch of different things all mixed up together," said Zhiv. "First, it's like a place inside my head where I can see what every animal around here is feeling. It can be a big area if an animal is a strong sender or receiver. That's one of the reasons Belnit is important. When he thinks something in the mara, everybody for miles knows what he's thinking.
"Then sometimes the mara is like a meeting, like a get-together when all the animals want to talk about something, when they have a big problem, and they don't know what to do. It doesn't happen very often. It's special. Everybody tries to get close together so they can hear each other better.
"And when they call a special mara like that, nobody fights or tries to eat anybody else, even though they all get close together. This mara is always like that because they agreed to work together on a project. Look over there at the cougar snoozing while a deer grazes next to him without being afraid. You won't see that outside this mara."
A rabbit hopped between the stag's legs and stopped to sample some clover barely a foot from the cougar's nose. David thought of a picture he'd seen in a bible storybook where lambs played around a lion. A shiver ran down his back.
"If Erg needs to make a kill," said Zhiv, "he'll go away till he's outside the mara. Then he'll hunt, but mostly, he's okay with eating what I eat, or sharing carrion with Berky if a big animal dies."
"You said the animals are working on a project? What's the project?"
Zhiv blushed and looked away. "Me."
David waited for him to explain.
Zhiv was silent for a minute and then looked up. "Ask me a different question."
"So, in the mara, everybody can see what everybody else is feeling, all the time?"
"No, normally everyone just pays attention to what they're doing, like eating or playing or looking for food. To be in the mara you have to go into that special place inside your head. Then you don't think about what's happening outside you."
"I don't think I have any special place inside my head," David said.
"You do! You'll understand it better when you see it and feel it inside. Now, I'm going to tell you something you probably won't believe."
"Oh, I'm long past believing or not believing anything. But go ahead, try me."
"When I began to hear the mara a little, the animals told me about you. They said there was another one like me, one who lived in the valley. That first day you came, as soon as you started to climb the mountain on your bike, they told me you were coming. It was very exciting. You took your clothes off and came right to where I was, as if you knew what to do. Then you ran away."
"I was scared to see you naked with the animals; it was all too strange."
"When you ran away, Kek — he's a crow — he followed you so we would know where you lived."
"So that's how the crow knew where my house was! I was really happy when I got your note."
"I was afraid you might not come back. Sometimes I look around in the campground down below when it's empty, in case the campers have left something useful. One time I found a pen and some pieces of paper. I thought if I wrote you a letter, you wouldn't be afraid to come and see me again."
While they talked, Zhiv rubbed his foot against David's where they touched.
David thought Zhiv's feet were the nicest feet he'd ever seen. They were dirty and grass-stained but that made them seem even more beautiful.
"I'm not good with words," said Zhiv, rolling onto his side. He laid his hand on David's belly, palm down. Then he lifted it up and wiggled his index finger in David's navel. David giggled, grabbed the other boy's finger, and they wrestled with their hands.
Charlie Baxter lifted his twelve-gauge from its case to give it a good cleaning. He hadn't used it for years, not since his retirement. He'd realized that tramping around the damp lake shore on cool autumn mornings was bad for his back. A duck was tasty but not worth the trouble. Kentucky Fried Chicken was better anyway.
Charlie taken the shotgun out of storage because he was fed up with crows. A half-dozen mature cottonwood trees shaded one side of his house. About a hundred noisy crows had taken to assembling there every evening. They always flew away around sunset, but the racket they made before that was terrible. When they started gabbling, Charlie couldn't hear himself think. He liked to watch TV while he ate his supper. With all that racket right outside, he couldn't concentrate on his programs anymore.
Charlie figured crow language had one word, "Caw." Anyone would think once they'd said their one word, that would be enough, but no, it was "Caw, caw, caw!" Then another crow would arrive, and they'd all say, "Caw, caw, caw." The new crow would croak, "Caw, caw, caw," and then they'd all reply, "Caw, caw, caw," like it was big news or a joke.
He imagined an ideal world where all the crows in the flock would assemble silently. Then the boss crow would say, "Caw." The rest of them could then reply, "Caw, caw." Then the boss crow would say "Caw, caw, caw!" and that would be that. Everything would have been said, and no further cawing was needed. But here and now, it seemed it was up to Charlie to fix the situation. He'd had enough of their yakking. He had a new word for them to learn — Blam!
Zhiv relaxed his grip on David's hand but continued to hold it. "This is really fun. I hope you can come and visit me every day. How are your feet? I hope they're not too sore from walking up here." Zhiv bent forward and examined David's feet. "You have such nice feet. You're all nice – I mean everything about you is nice."
"Hey, you have nice feet too," said David.
"They're pretty dirty." Zhiv splayed his toes. "I'm sorry. I'm pretty dirty all over. There's a little lake higher up I go to when I start to smell myself. We could go swimming there, maybe tomorrow, if you can come."
"I'll be here tomorrow for sure, I mean, if it's okay?"
"Yeah, everybody likes having you here. You could even stay here."
David laughed. "My mom and dad would go crazy if I don't show up for supper tonight. But I definitely want to go swimming tomorrow."
"I don't think anybody knows about it," said Zhiv, "the lake, I mean. At least I've never seen anyone there."
Zhiv sat back. "You asked me about the animals' project. It's a lot of talking, but I'll try to answer." He took a deep breath.
"When I came here, I was really stupid, but I knew I couldn't live down there anymore." He gestured toward the valley below them. "The way they live means a lot of animals are hurting all the time. People don't think about it. They just think about their own pleasure. They wanted me to be like that. I couldn't live with all the misery in the air. I ran away. I had to run. I couldn't stay, but I didn't know how to live in the forest. I just about died. Sometimes I think I did die, and the animals brought me back to life."
Zhiv took David's hand and traced each of the fingers with his index finger. Then he clasped it in his own and continued. "I remember lying beside a fallen log. I had nothing to eat, and I was cold. Sometimes I kinda knew what was happening, but I slept a lot. I had stopped thinking about what I should do. I had stopped thinking. I guess I was dying, but it seemed okay. If I was dead I wouldn't feel so cold and lonely.
"Then Chirko, the little squirrel you saw on the first day you came, Chirko came to me. He brought me a nut, one pine nut from his personal food stash. He put it near my mouth, but I was too weak and depressed to eat. He came closer, picked up the nut, and pushed it into my mouth.
"That was a really brave thing to do. Animals know that humans are dangerous. They kill for fun. No animal ever knows what a human is going to do.
"That nut tasted so good! I thought it was the best thing I ever ate. Chirko brought me another nut. Other animals brought roots, and mushrooms, and berries. Berky wrapped himself around me to keep me warm."
"Wow!" said David.
"Yeah. They saved my life. As I got better, I understood that many of the things I was seeing in my head came from the animals. It was weird, because they don't think in words or ideas like we do. It's mostly pictures and feelings. Then I saw that they were teaching me how to hear them, and how to talk to them like that, for a reason."
David listened, spellbound.
"Before they found me, the animals on this mountain had called a mara, a meeting of all the creatures who live here. They gathered together and talked about what was happening to the earth. Other animals are more sensitive to the environment than we are. They knew the earth was sick, that humans were pouring poisons into the water, the soil and the air. Humans were also cruel in ways other animals could not understand. They knew about those huge factory farms where animals are like prisoners. They're in misery from the day they're born till the day they're slaughtered. There are places like that in the valley.
"They tried to think about what they could do to change all that. How could they stop the bad things that were coming closer every day? They couldn't make a plan — they don't plan like we do. You know, first we do this, then we do that, and then we do something else, and something happens, and we go on to the next step. Their minds, their brains, don't work like that.
"I'll try to translate the mara into words. Some of the animals said that the problem was that one animal was missing from their meeting — a human. Then they had a long argument. Some said that humans were the problem, and animals could not trust them. They were crazy. They had no love in them. The solution was to stay away from them and kill them if possible. Then things could go back to normal.
"Other animals said yes, humans had caused the problems, but they could do things other animals couldn't do. Humans were powerful. They could think. Unlike all the other animals, they weren't forced to do what they did by instinct. They had the power to choose. They didn't have to kill, poison and destroy.
"The argument went back and forth, but finally they came up with an idea — they needed a human of their own. They needed a human they could trust, one who could understand and speak their language. Then they could make a plan together. Their human could explain it to other humans. He might be able to make them understand the terrible danger that's coming."
"You!" said David.
Zhiv smiled. "Yeah. When Chirko found me, they decided to try to teach me to understand them, so I could help them. I don't think I've been able to help them so far," said Zhiv. "I'm only a kid, and I don't know what to do." He stopped speaking then and looked at David for a moment. "Any questions?"
David said, "Okay. I understand a little about the mara, but not really."
"It's not just an area, a place," said Zhiv. "It's a way of thinking when we all open our minds to each other. It's like telepathy, but it's more like music, a special kind of music. It's how you feel and what you want, and we can all listen, so nothing is hidden."
"But I don't hear it," David said.
"Yes, you do," said Zhiv. "You just don't recognize it. I didn't understand it until they taught me how to listen. I think anyone can tune in, but it takes time. Most little kids know instinctively that animals are like us. They just have different bodies and different ways of looking at the world. Parents try to make children deaf and blind to those feelings, but nobody succeeded very well with me.
"Even then, it took the animals a long time to help me lose the mental deafness most people have. Being deaf like that stops people from hearing animals crying in fear, crying for help. I'm still not very good at hearing and understanding other animals, but I get better every day. David, it's wonderful. They are always honest and true, and they are loving. Most of the time I feel love all around me."
"Can you teach me? Can you help me hear it?"
"I'm sure you can do it," said Zhiv. "We can start now if you like."
"Can I ask another question first?"
"Go ahead."
"You said the animals don't like clothes. Why not?"
"They made the 'no clothes' rule because humans always wear clothes. Once they had decided to take care of me, to teach me how to be like an animal, one of the first things they did was take off my clothes. One morning I woke up naked, and I've never worn clothes since that day. I don't even have any clothes. Clothing is one of the ways humans hide what they're really thinking, what they really are. That's why nobody bothered you that first day you came here. Even though you were in the mara, you were naked, so it was okay. This morning, when Erg and Berky stopped you, it was because you were wearing clothes.
"Are there other rules? Who makes the rules?"
"We all make the rules," Zhiv said, "all the creatures in the mara. Everybody has a say, everybody who can tune in to it. I have a voice, now that I can understand — you will too, when you start to feel it — but I'm not the boss here. I'm just one of the animals, like Erg or Chirko. They all love me, and it's wonderful, but that doesn't mean I can tell them what to do. Erg and Berky are always with me, close to me. The mara decided on that, that I needed guards in case someone wanted to hurt me or take me away.
"They agreed that I'm kinda special because I can't take care of myself, but I have to follow the rules of the mara. There aren't many. I have to respect the rights of other animals. When I wanted to send a note to you, I had to ask Kek to do it. If he was busy or didn't want to do it, I couldn't have done anything about it. He's not my pet, or slave.
"There was another person in the mara last week, somebody wearing clothes. He had a gun. At first, he was shooting tin cans. Then he started to shoot birds hunting for seeds and berries in the clear-cut. He killed a robin and wounded a mountain bluebird. Then he shot a starling, and the other starlings decided to attack him for killing in this mara. I think they pecked him pretty bad before he ran away."
"Yeah," said David. "He almost ran over me."
"Starlings are smart and tough, and when they tune in to each other, they're like one huge mind," said Zhiv. "One of my best friends here is a starling, Lilili. You saw him when you left that delicious bar for me. I was up at my lake that day, but he sent me a picture of you when you were leaving the clearing. He's almost always here with me, but today he said he had something he had to do."
"Okay," David said. "Can you start teaching me now?"
"Yup. It works best if we're touching. Later you should be able to do it without touching, but for now, touching is better. If you don't mind, let's lie down, and hug."
"Like this?"
"Yeah, we want as much of our skin to touch as possible."
David glanced away from Zhiv's eyes and down to where he was having a physical reaction to Zhiv's warmth. "Sorry about that. It does that all the time," he said.
Zhiv laughed. "It's good, David. It looks nice. It's a loving thing, a trusting thing, nothing to worry about." He paused while they adjusted themselves to fit together comfortably.
David blushed, and said, "You just say anything you think, don't you?"
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No, no. Like you said my thing looks nice. Most people wouldn't say that, even if they thought it."
"Oh, yeah. I guess I've kinda forgot how to be a human."
"I hope I can forget too," said David. "I think it's great to be like that."
Zhiv said, "You know, it doesn't matter much what we think. It's what we feel that's important."
"You think so?" said David.
"I, well, I mean, you," Zhiv stuttered, then said, "I feel we like each other."
David laughed. "Zhiv, I don't know what this is…" He squirmed his body against Zhiv's and buried his face in the long tangled hair. "…but it goes way beyond liking."
"Yeah. Really. Yeah," said Zhiv. "Your hair smells good."
"Yours, too." David sniffed deeply.
"Hold me tight," Zhiv said. "Close your eyes and open your mind, not to outside sounds, but to inner feelings and pictures that come to you. I'll try to find you in the mara. Just relax. Don't try to make anything happen. Let it happen."
David closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation of his body touching Zhiv's from his head to his toes. At first his mind was busy. He wondered about what Zhiv would think about him. He worried that anybody who saw them like this would think they were gay; that they were crazy, dirty, stupid, or ugly. Then he felt Zhiv's warm hand press on the small of his back, urging him into a closer embrace. All his worries fell away, and he drifted, watching the parade of images that passed before his inner eye.
Charlie finished cleaning and oiling his shotgun, enjoying the whiff of gun oil that arose from the cleaning rag. He was glad he'd kept the shotgun, though he didn't go hunting anymore. He'd gone to town that morning and bought a box of shells for it. He figured number four bird shot would be good for crows. They're not as big as ducks. With a nice spread, two quick shots should bring down at least a half-dozen of the varmints. If crows were as smart as they were supposed to be, the rest of them would get the message.
He whistled as he went downstairs into his basement to get one of his plastic lawn chairs. In front of the house, there was a good view of the cottonwoods. He set the lawn chair down facing the trees but far enough back so it wouldn't bother the crows. When he sat there, all innocent-like, with the shotgun in his lap, they wouldn't pay him no mind. The chair was close enough to the birds' favorite roosts, so he couldn't fail to kill a bunch.
He planned to leave the chair there, empty, this afternoon, so they'd get used to it. Sunday, he'd sit in it for an hour or two while the crows were gathering, just sit in it, no gun. Monday afternoon, he'd be in the chair with the twelve-gauge in his lap. Then those crows would realize they should have been more alert and suspicious. They didn't know who they were messing with.
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