Pat Watson

I walk slowly towards it, fascinated and wary. Getting near the head, I can see a large dark eye that seems to be following me but it’s hard to tell. The eye is nearly black and shows little motion. Then, it blinks. I jump back. For some reason, it seems like the giant bird is amused. Its beak is massive. It could probably swallow me quite easily but, at this point in the adventure, I’m beyond any more scares. It’s some kind of miracle that I’ve made it this far and more craziness isn’t going to make much difference. The feathers are bright yellow and the large body breathes slowly and deeply. I run my hand along the crazy long feathers as I walk towards the tail. Occasionally, muscles twitch beneath the feathers. About halfway back I see very, very large feathers and a distortion in the bird’s back that reminds me of a saddle.

I walk around the bird two or three times, very slowly and wonder what it would be like to ride this thing, like something out of a fairy tale. The eyes sort of follow me but it’s hard to tell. The giant bird seems no more threatening than a family dog lying on a couch. A big dog on a bigger couch. What a fantasy. I can’t help it. I learn forward, grab some feathers and pull myself up on its back. There’s some twitching but the bird doesn’t seem to mind.

As soon as I’m in place, large feathers extend themselves towards me and cup themselves around my thighs, shoulders and arms. I’m gently held in place. Then, a slight shifting of weight, a shudder, the creature stands, rears back, flaps its wings and takes to the air with a powerful lunge. Its wings don’t move like a normal bird but more like twin sets of giant, feathered oars, divinely coordinated, in perfect unison. With a thrust of its long body, we’re airborne and I feel a kinship with this bird. I feel I’ve been gifted this flight far above this strange island of riddles, mystery, disappearing beings and some kind of meaning that I have yet to understand. The movement of the wings is strong, effortless and confident. Maybe it will take me home.

We get to a few hundred feet above the forest and grasses and the great bird begins a slow circle as it climbs even more. Soon, we’re at the upper limit of the valley’s sheltering influence and cold, turbulent air mixes with the streaming clouds that come in from the frigid ocean that surrounds this sanctuary of warm mystery. Staying within the the windbreak of the mountain rim, the bird stops the powerful undulations of its wings and begins to glide and descend. Gusts of wind buffet the bird’s accelerating descent. The angle of the turn gets more severe and I can easily look down to the side and see the lake and the forest rising up to meet us. We’re going too fast for me to look straight ahead. The wings pull in closer to the body and we accelerate even more. It’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I can’t understand how this is going to end in anything other than disaster but I’m not dead yet. I pull my head down and hold on as best I can.

I sense we’re near the treetops of the forest when the great bird spreads its wings, turns suddenly in a twist, rolls over on its back and dumps me into the open air. Instantly, I’m free falling and there’s no way I’m going to survive this one. I clench my teeth and wait for impact with the tree branches that are going to pierce my body, break my back or otherwise impale me on my way when I meet the forest floor at a hundred miles an hour.