Toots and Suzy Have a Couple of Announcements

🧡 Happy Tootsday! 🧡

            “OK, listen up! This one is for both peeps and cats!” said Toots. “You probably wonder why we called this meeting, so soon after the other one. Willie, will you please stop winking at Charley? I can see you, you know!”
            “We wanted you to know that our Research Department has finally settled on an improved nomenclature for the day of the week usually called Friday,” said Suzy, breathlessly.
            “That’s right,” said Toots. “Many choices were tossed up into the air and examined but just didn’t have the perfect cat specific ring!” added Toots.

           Mr. Baby raised a paw. “Whose idea was this anyhow? It might confuse some of the visitors to this little world within the world which we inhabit.”
            “Ahem. MEOW!,” said Willie, who was in a dickens of a mood for a meeting.
            “Cats don’t care about that!,” said Suzy. “The business of cats is cat business. And that’s only right and proper. Ask any cat!”
            (General applause ensues!)
            “That’s right. And any reasonable life form agrees,” said Toots, “But to get back to the business at hand…”’
            “Indeed,” said Suzy. “Toots and I stand before you paw in paw, to announce the new word.”

😻“F’lineday!”😻

            (All stand! Applause is long and loud.)
“Speaking for the rest of us, and for the visitors to MEOW, I have to say that we are fortunate that our Research Department held steady and didn’t jump too soon,” said Willie, very seriously. Well, as serious as Willie gets.
            “Well said, Brother,” said Suzy. “And we all agree!”
            “So let it be written,” said Toots.
            “Yes, it shall be written,” agreed Suzy.

💐

            “That’s about it. Enjoy your morning! Oh! One other thing! The Research Department is looking into correcting the mundane usage ‘Saturday.’ Please let them know if you get any really inspired ideas!” said Toots. "We can do better!"
            (Applause! And shuffling as everyone leaves the meeting.)
            “That went well,” said Suzy to Toots, and Toots had to agree! Both were quite pleased!

🤍

Mew-on-day, Nest Building Edition

 

Close-up of Klawock Lake nest with ax for scale.

            Suzy had been looking over my shoulder, catching up on the Squatchie news . Somebody must have mentioned finding huge nests built up in trees, the apparent resting places, or perhaps the nurseries of resident Squatches some place on the American continent.

            This fired her imagination, predictably. She does take notions.
            “P-lady?” she said, from near my right elbow in a small creaky voice.
            “Yes, I’m listening,” I said, encouragingly.
            “They said those big forest people made nests in trees. I heard that,” she said. “I thought just birds did that?”
            “Well,” I said. “Back away from the literal nest part for a minute. You know everyone needs a place to sleep, of course. Some creatures dig holes to make a sleeping place, or you might call it an underground nest. Some things even burrow inside logs. Some sleep underwater.”
            “How can anything sleep underwater?” said Suzy.
            “Whales and fish and everybody in the ocean or lakes or rivers has to sleep somewhere. They can’t come up on dry land and build nests,” said I.
            “Can I have a nest in a tree?” The obvious next question.
            “It would be a lot of work,” I said. “One time long ago, one of my human kittens and I talked about doing it. But it turned out to be too much work. First you have to find a tree that is shaped just right. Then you have to find or cut a lot of strong branches and carry them up into the tree somehow. After that, you have to weave them together into a strong bed which won’t fall out of the tree while you are sleeping!”

            “Oh, no!” said Suzy. “I had no idea!”
            “Last of all you have to make it soft somehow. Birds use fluff and bits of string and anything they can find. Gorillas and Squatches use leaves mostly. That would take a lot of leaves and grass or maybe cattail fluff, pardon the expression!” I continued. “I think all of that soft bedding keeps the wind out too and makes them warmer, if they live in cold places, like we have here a lot of the year.”
            “I like to be warm. I need to be warm!” said Suzy.
            “Is being warm the most important thing?” I asked her.
            “Meerrp! Yes! Being warm is the best thing!” she said. “Sometimes I’d rather be warm than bother with eating!”
            “You’re a cat, for sure! Cats love to be warm,” I agreed. “Of course, we all do, more or less, depending,” I giggled.
            “I think you’re better off in the house here, than up a tree, where the owls might find you!” I said.
            “Owls! I forgot about owls!” she said.
            “Besides,” I said, “You have about fifteen little warm nests in the house here! I think a cat sleeping in a tree would be just asking to meet an owl.”
            “I do? Where are my nests?” she wondered aloud.
            “I don’t know where all of them are, but some are the back of the sofa, my closet, back behind the boxes on the back porch and who else knows where. You know better than I do!”
            Willie strolled up to add his two cents.
            “I know where they are!” he said.
            “That only makes sense, Willie. You nest up in the same places, plus my pillow,” I said.
            “Your pillow is my favorite,” he said, and continued on his way.
            “I have another question,” she said. I looked at her, waiting. Her questions can be quite far-ranging.
            “What is the most beautiful color combination?” she said, looking deeply into my eyes with her shimmering green eyes.
            “I think it must be the deep dark blue of the sky on certain days next to the deepest richest, almost orange yellow you could think of. Like the color of some poppies that you see in the summer along the roadside,” I said.
            “That does sound beautiful,” she said dreamily. “Will you take me to see them when they bloom?”
            “Yes. Let’s plan to do that. I think it’s time to go for a ride. Maybe even before the poppies bloom again.”
            “OK,” she said, and yawned delicately. Then she left my side to go sleep on the top of the old gas heater, which has been popping on lately, since it’s getting later in the year.

🧡💙

The Last Day of Hunting Camp

 

            His friends and he had separated and spread out. It was normal practice among these hunters.
            It was late afternoon and he had been walking uphill for a long time, it seemed like all day in fact. Though it was late in the year, October, it was warm and sunny and very dry in the hills.
            It was beginning to seem like an extended camping trip. One guy had succeeded in shooting a big one. Not the hunter, or his other two friends. He was sleepy too. It was hypnotically sleepy-making walking through that sunny quiet landscape. He was a middle-aged fellow in good physical condition, but even they do get weary from time to time.
            The wind blew through the rolling hills, bringing little bursts of freshness. It didn’t last long.
            He glanced about, seeking some shade because he had begun to think about just sitting on his back end for a while and eating something. The area was short on shade trees. There were scrubby bushes in abundance, too small for shade.
            He noticed some rocky outcropping not too far away so he headed that direction with quickened steps. One, a good twenty feet tall emerged out of the dry grassy hillside in such a way that there was a deep shadow underneath it. Bingo!
            The hunter looked around for snakes or anything else in that shadow, didn’t see any, and so he crawled into its depth on his hands and knees. He shrugged out of his pack, propped his rifle standing up against the stone easily to hand at his right side. He put his back against the cool stone.
            His eyes wanted to close, but he was hungry. In the pack he had a two litre bottle of water, some jerky, and a pound of almonds. The hunter didn’t eat junk. So the meat and nuts and water would have to do for lunch.
            He managed to put his things back into his pack after eating, and he slept. After a bit he was uncomfortable, so he lay flat, using his pack for a pillow. He didn’t want ants in his ears or anything like that. It was his last sleepy thought.
            Ah, but someone, or several someones, had their eyes on the sleepy man. They knew they couldn’t handle him while he was awake, so they waited for sleep to have him firmly in its grip. It wasn’t long before he was out cold.
            Five of them came out of their concealment. It didn’t take much to hide one of them. They would have been hard to discern among the scrub and rock in any case. They were tanned dark brown and naked. Their general configuration was humanoid, but only about a foot and a half tall. Wild black hair covered their heads and grew over their backsides like a pelt. They had sqwunched up, greedy looking little faces with black little eyes and possessed large canine teeth. Gnarly might have been the most apt descriptor.
            Each one carried a coiled length of homemade rope. It seemed to have been fashioned of long hairs gleaned somehow, and long dry grass.
            Fin and Nr each approached one of the sleeping hunter’s shoulders, apparently with an eye to fastening a line to each of his shoulders.
            “It’s big,” said Fin.
            “Not too big. Looks tasty!” said Nr. “Len, get a leg hooked up! Ov, you get the other one!”
            Zur had been elected to sit on the man’s chest and hold his head up so he could be dragged off. Things were looking pretty good for a clean capture.
            “There’ll be feasting tonight!” said Fin.
            The hunter didn’t have long enough hair to hold onto, so Zur rigged his head up with some of that rough line, and was just getting settled in. All of them were ready for the hauling.
            But just then someone else arrived. A very large someone. Someone with a disgusted look on his big face. His lips curled and he spat off to the west.
            “Rock Grunts!” he said. “Dirty, rotten, stinky, stupid little Rock Grunts!”
            Five little stinkies looked up in dismay and scattered, leaving their little weird ropes behind.
            The hairy giant, watched them as they ran He shook his head and spat again.
            “Ew,” said the giant.
            “I wonder if the kids would like this one?” he asked himself. “Of, course they would!” he answered his own question. “He’s just the right size for a pet!”
            He wasn’t very worried about the man’s opinion of the matter. Who checks with a creature to see if it wants to be a pet. A pet’s status is determined by the possessor of said pet. No? Yes!
            The big guy carefully removed and tossed aside the Rock Grunt’s little hairy ropes and hoisted the hunter up onto his shoulder with the man's head hanging down behind. He was careful not to damage the man. He wanted him to survive the trip to the cave.
            When our man finally woke he couldn’t understand where he found himself. He was hanging over the back of a very large hairy and muscular walking creature. His head flopped as the giant marched along. This was going to take a minute to figure out he realized as he bounced with each step.
            It was making him so sick to his stomach that he could hardly think. It didn’t help that the giant smelled like vinegar, musk, gym socks, and something else too. It didn’t help at all. And his nose kept hitting that long hair as they bounced along.
            “Hey,” said the hunter.
            “Mmm?” said the giant.
            “Put me down,” said the hunter.
            The giant laughed and kept going. “Later. Down later,” he said.
            “Where are we going?” said the queasy hunter desperately.
            “Hm?” said the big guy.
            After some more of this sort of thing, they came to the entrance of a cave. It was a low oval opening, relatively low, sandwiched between layers of outthrust sedimentary rock. Maybe it had been a large bubble?
            “No!” said the hunter, as they entered the cave.
            The giant put the hunter on the floor. “Down, now,” he said, in his own language of course.
            Mama Hairy Giant appeared, center stage, about then.
            “What’s that for?” she demanded looking down upon the stunned hunter. “It’s not edible!”
            “The Rock Grunts had him lashed up and were going to drag him underground and eat him, Honey! I saved him for the kids to play with!” expostulated Mr. Hairy Giant.
            “Hm? Really? I wonder what those taste like?” said she, questioning eyebrows up. You could almost imagine her thumbing her butcher knife.
            Now, our hunter couldn’t understand their language but he didn’t like the tone of it at all.
            “Hold up, Honey! I carried this guy home for the kids,” said Mr. Hairy Giant. “To play with! Look how cute he is!”
            “Cute?” yowled Mrs. Hairy Giant, “You think that’s cute?”
            Right on cue Little Hairy Girl appeared from somewhere in the back of the cave. “OH! Oh! He’s so cute! Can we keep him, Mama? Daddy?” she squealed in a high yodel.
            “I was thinking of trying to cook him,” said Mama.
            “NOOOOO! I want him!” whined Little Hairy Girl. Then Baby Hairy lying somewhere off stage starting yelling at the top of his lungs in solidarity and for general purposes.
            “Fine, play with him for a couple of days. But you have to feed him. Then we’ll eat him!” said Mama Hairy Giant.
            Mr. Hairy Giant wasn’t paying attention to the negotiations because he had noticed an odd thing at the entrance to the cave. It was a light that didn’t belong there. It looked like the moon had come to see them for some reason. As he stared as it, it grew into a shining sphere. It was pinkish and covered with swirling designs. It quite mesmerized Mr. Hairy Giant.
            It moved nearer the family group and our hunter who was still sitting on the stone floor of the cave. At that point all eyes were on it, not each other, or the captured hunter.
            It expanded until it seemed to hold about the same volume as a VW Beetle, but rounder of course. It settled down low, handy to the hunter where he sat.
            A voice that seemed to come from nowhere in particular, but mercifully spoke American English said, “Get in while you have a chance!”
            “How?” said he.
            “Just stick a leg in and follow that leg! Now!” said the voice.
            Meanwhile the Hairy family watched with mouths hanging open, stunned.
            The hunter hopped to his feet. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he said and stuck a leg in, and then followed the leg all the way inside the shining sphere. There he found himself sort of floating in a thin pink vapor. It smelled like strawberries, maybe.
            “Now what?” he said.
            “Oh, I’ll take you back to your buddies. They found your stuff under that rock and are wigging out and have called for a search and rescue,” said the pervasive voice. “If we hurry we can put a halt to that.”
            “Um, what was that all about back in the cave?” said the hunter.
            “The kid wanted you for a pet. The old lady wanted to cook you, as an experiment. The old guy saved you from the Rock Grunts.”
            “WTH, are Rock Grunts?” said he.
“Sort of like faeries, eastern OR variety. They wanted to eat you too. So you owe Big Hairy for that one,” said the voice.
            “I don’t believe in Big Foot,” said the hunter, as if reassuring himself.
            “You do too! Face facts. Come on…” said the orb voice with a light dry chuckle.
            “I didn’t want to,” he said.
            “A word of advice. Don’t take naps in Rock Grunt and Hairy Giant territory. We have to pull somebody out of that scene every once in a while,” the voice went on.
            “I don’t know what you’re going to tell your friends, when you wander into camp. You’ll have to think of something that works for you guys, OK?”
            “Right,” said the hunter.
            The pink orb let him out near camp, but out of sight of the guys.
            He turned back to say, “thanks,” but the orb was gone.
            He frowned. “Did that happen?” Then he walked over to meet his friends at camp.
            It would be truly interesting to know what he told them!

He Found Her Whom He Sought

 

            When he found her, she was curled up behind some tufts of tall grass just his side of the first dirt road that wound through suburbia and ended up in town. He found her more with his nose than his eyes.
            He didn’t know if she had come from the small city, or if she was headed there next.
            He drew closer so that he could see that she was asleep. She was smaller than Jumpstart. You could say that he fell in love in that moment, or maybe he fell into his life, or entered a story yet to be written in days and years to come.
            He lay down, without waking her, almost nose to nose, and watched her sleeping.
            After a while, she sensed that he was there and opened her eyes, yellow like his. She didn’t startle or leap to her feet. She just looked into his eyes. Something passed between them, wild, subliminal and permanent.
            “Will you come with me,” said Jumpstart, belly still touching the earth. He was hoping not to frighten her by standing over her. His head lay on his forepaws, in a position almost of supplication. This was no demand on his part. This was his first gambit.
            “I am hungry. Will you shelter me? If I come with you will you help and lead me?” she asked, still curled in her sleeping position. “Will you hunt for me? Will you lead our children? Are you he whom I seek, or should I search longer? I am tired of searching.”
            “If you will come with me, fair one, I will lead you, and I will follow you. I will be there when you wake, and I will watch over you as you sleep.
            “I will feed you and our children before myself. I will hunt for you. I will lead you. I will serve you until my last breath, and I will bless you in every way I can,” whispered Jumpstart, saying words that he himself didn’t know he had in his heart. Perhaps those words were born in that moment.
            “Then I will follow you. I shall be yours and you shall be mine, as long as we live in this world,” she said. Still she lay with her nose within inches of his, eyes wide, waiting.
            “My mother named me Jumpstart,” he said.
            “Jumpstart. My mother just called me Dreamer. But when she spoke to me she said Sweety,” said the Sweet Dreamer.
            “The name is right, for I found you sleeping, Dreamer,” he said, as if in a dream himself. “Let us go then, into the meadow, and into the deep forest. I will find you something to eat as we go along. Then we will greet my friends there. Are you willing?” said Jumpstart.
            “Yes,” she said, this Dreamer, and she rose from her place of sleep. “What manner of friends?”
            “You will meet the lord of this place, his lady and the mother of his children. There is a great black Raven there too, and a wolf, and two brother mountain cats of the forest. We will greet them, and find our way in the world then,” he said.
            “I will have no fear if you lead me,” she said.
            So, Jumpstart led his love back the same way that he had come searching for her. They loped together for a few miles, until they reached the meadow near the Home Clearing. He caught a careless young rabbit, which is sad for the rabbit, but is the way of Coyote, his nature and the way he must live.
            Dreamer had her first meal with him then and there. The days before Jumpstart were already receding to a shadow in her mind. Her mother and father became totemic figures, as if in an old myth.
            They went on, side by side, growing stronger as they ran.
            Never were they parted, as long as either lived.
            Together, they then entered the Great Forest following paths that lead to the Home Clearing, if a soul has a standing invitation.
            Maeve saw them first.
            “Welcome, both of you. Come to the fire. Everyone is there!” she called as she flew overhead. Then she flew ahead to announce the visit.
            “Boss! Ramona!” Maeve called, coming in for a landing. “Jumpstart has come back and brought his new love!”
            Ramona stopped flipping fish on her big pan, standing with her wooden paddle in hand.
            Cherry and Blue came running to see.
            Twigg, who had been sitting by the fire, turned his attention to the new arrivals, and smiled.
            Bob and Berry picked up their heads and watched the approach too. They had been sleeping near the fire circle.
            Ralph, who had been sitting near the fire and Ramona, stood and spoke.
            “Welcome! Come near! Let me see you! Who is this beautiful young thing you have here, Jumpstart?”  
            “Her mother called her Dreamer. She is mine and I am hers. I hope that you will bless us, Sir,” said Jumpstart.
            “Of course, please come near,” said Ralph. And Ralph did bless them, as he had done before, at other marriages. With a hand on each of their heads, he blessed them.
            “Be bound by love!
            “May your children be many and strong!
            “May your hunt go well!
            “Go about the earth doing good!
            “May the Maker of All guide you in all your steps together!”
            He smiled down at them, well pleased.
 
            Jumpstart and his Dreamer both thanked Ralph, in awed tones, feeling seriously blessed.
            “Would you like to have fish with us,” said Ramona. “We have lots, Ralph always catches a lot of fish!”
            “Yes, Lady, we would like to share fish with you. We are honored to eat with you!” said Jumpstart. Dreamer murmured “yes,” too.
            So, very content, and very blessed, they ate fish with the family, and the animals, and Maeve too.

💛

All Seen From Above

 

            Maeve watched Jumpstart as he loped off to the north until he was no longer visible from the ground level.
            She rose into the air to keep a better eye on him. He was moving pretty fast, but as we know, Maeve is faster than any landbound creature.
            Her wings lifted her high into the currents of the air. She drifted for the sheer pleasure of it. Miles spread out before her eyes. Yes, the forest and then the meadow and far away the town where humans live their lives on streets of asphalt, among buildings and the busyness of it all.
            The blue and grey of the immense sky was over it all.
            Wheeling back towards the Great Forest, Maeve spotted Jumpstart again. He had almost made it to the first dirt street outside of town. He wasn’t running now. He had met her whom he sought, his home and his heart. They were conversing right down below Maeve.
            Satisfied that her mission was complete, Maeve turned toward home.
            “Evermore,” she whispered to a passing wind.
            On purposeful wings she headed straight to the forest and the Home Clearing.
            The forest below reached something like two hundred feet into the sky, Maeve’s world.
            Nevertheless, she dropped down through the canopy looking for Ralph. She found him sitting by the fire with Ramona drinking coffee.
            She gronked a few times to let them know she was in the air above them. Ramona smiled up at her.
            “Where have you been, Birdy?” said Ralph as she settled onto his left shoulder.
            “Oh, flying to and then from, Boss,” said Maeve, importantly, preening a bit.
            “And what did you see, Birdy, flying to and then coming back to us?” said Ralph, smiling.
            “Well, I saw the end of a successful mission,” said Maeve. “I followed Coyote. Like the wild thing that he is, he visited the campground out by the ranger station. While there he got the best of a pair of unlikely campers. He captured their dinner. He laughed his way out beyond Uncle Bob’s Stump House and then settled down to devour his prize.
            “While he was eating, he failed to notice me landing nearby. When he was done, I asked him why he was wasting time. Didn’t he know she was looking for him? That got his attention. So I sent him on his way.
            “So, Boss, I watched from above, I made sure that he and she found each other. And they did. I left them together and came on home,” said Maeve.
            “Thanks, Birdy. Always the watchful mother,” said Ralph. “You did well, as always.”
            “Jumpstart will always be Coyote,” said Ramona. “But we wish him and her well in all of their story together!”
            “Maeve, would you like a bit of coffee, dear,” said Ramona, who knew that Maeve didn’t generally share their taste for coffee.
            “Today, yes, I think I would like a small cup of coffee,” said Maeve. “Thanks, Ramona. I’m a little tired now. That sounds like a good idea this time.”
            The coffee was good, not overly hot for a bird. She was pleased. Ralph and Ramona were also pleased. Dinner was good later, and it was an altogether successful day.

🍁

It's A Purrsday Open Thread

 

October 9, 2009.

Photo shot by my Navigator.

It's back east, where the sun comes up the wrong direction,

and sets the other way too!

I think we were in NC that day.

It's an odd thing for a westerner,

to see the morning sun over the ocean.

And then to see it set over the continent.

Bless all your little hearts today.

🤍

Not a Fox, Not a Wolf

 

            “Not a fox.
            “Not a wolf,
            “Not a fox.
            “Not a wolf,” Jumpstart sang his song as he loped airily through the forest. He rarely touched the earth it seemed, so light was his step. “Not a fox!”
            The bowl of venison that the mother had given him sat exceedingly well. It was true.
            But then, something rustled underneath some dry leaves.
            “Come out, Little One! Not a wolf!” murmured Jumpstart.
            “Are you fox? I’ll not come out!” said the field mouse.
            “Not a fox!” said Jumpstart.
            A pair of bright black eyes peeped out. As quick as a breath it was over for the fat mouse!
            Coming up out of the forest, he rounded the large metal box. Then there was pavement, and a building. There was a truck and two cars. He saw no one, so Jumpstart went ahead.
            Sunlight warmed his yellowish fur. It felt good after the shade of the forest. A brief thrust of wind ruffled his fur. A flea took a bite. The asphalt was warm and almost smooth under his pads.

            “Not a wolf,” he sang, under his breath.
            Jumpstart trotted around the ranger station building, just checking it out. The asphalt was swept clean. There was nothing to interest him. He went on.
            The wind brought him news. He stopped and attended to it. There was the scent of wood rot, leaf mold, small hidden life. He smelled living blood, breath, and vegetal dung. But there was this too, cooking smells from further down toward the campground. Hot smells of meat and fat, with beer and sweet drinks. His nose drew him there. For the moment he ignored the sweeter, more redolent scent reaching him from way down the wind. But he didn’t forget it either.
            His tongue lolled while he calculated his chances. “Men are slow, but many are watchful,” he thought cannily to himself.
            Ralph's great black Raven flew low over Jumpstart. She circled twice, but said nothing. He watched her ascend to the treetops and vanish into the sky. “The king’s bird,” he thought, and went on.
            Jumpstart didn’t like fire. But he thought that since it was a small fire, he could work around it. It was a little fire in some metal thing, at the back end of a car. He had seen a lot of cars, that ran up and down the roads and then rested. This one was resting. There were two chairs behind it by the fire. One chair held a woman, who was doing something with the food on the fire.
            It smelled mostly raw. Beef. Bloody.
            “She is slow. Can’t catch Jumpstart!,” he mused. 

            “Not a fox!” he assured himself.
            She looked up from her fiddling and saw him, four or five parking spots away, watching her.
            “Bruce!” the woman called. “There’s some kind of dog thing out here staring at the tri tip!”
            A man came around to see what the woman was talking about.
            “What is that thing?” she said.
            “Not a fox, too big. Not a wolf, too small, Marv!” said Bruce. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind wild mutt mix. Maybe part German Shepherd!”
            “I don’t care what it is! You better do something, or go tell those rangers there’s some kind of wild thing hanging around,” said Marv, getting up. Maybe she wanted to hide in the car. Bruce turned his back for a moment, looking around for a rock to throw. But the asphalt was devoid of rocks, so he took off into the brush to search for a projectile.
            This was Jumpstart’s moment! Right in front of Marv, he nipped the tri tip off of the fire, even though it was hot on one side, and he split. It was like he had never been there. But he had, and the meat was gone.
            “Dammit, Bruce,” said Marv.
            Bruce turned around just in time to watch the creature run away with his dinner.
            Jumpstart ran and ran and ran, laughing as only Coyote can laugh, deep in his heart, for he had pulled off a caper. He had bested Man. It was sweet and he laughed all the way to Uncle Bob’s Stump House meadow.
            Seeing Uncle Bob deep in thought, and Aunt Suzie making something with strips of green bark, he stopped briefly. They were both too distracted to see a sly coyote slipping by their Stump House.
            He circled around behind them and loped deeper into the meadow. He lay the now cooled meat down on the grass in an open spot and looked all around himself, his ears alert, and his yellow eyes shining. A hundred scents came to him, and his clever nose read them all. There were covert scents from down in the earth, living things and roots, and decay. There were floral scents, and viny, or grassy scents. It was almost dizzying. He smelt rabbits and gophers too! And he hadn’t forgotten that other scent either, the one from long away, faint but demanding.
            He put his head down and began to eat the meat, glancing up once in a while to make sure that he was alone. No competitor for his catch appeared.
            “Not a fool!” he thought happily.
            When he had eaten it all he looked up again, and like a sudden mirage, that mighty Raven was standing nearby watching him.
            “I saw her, Jumpstart. Why are you wasting time stealing meat? I saw her up near town, that way,” said Maeve, and she pointed the way with her beak.
            “You have better business to attend to,” she said. “Time to grow up.”
            “I will find her!” yipped Jumpstart, running as fast as he could.
            “Go your way, Coyote. Find her, and be blessed,” said Maeve, softly, and with sympathy.
            She watched him disappear off to the north.

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