The Hawks
He saw them the first day on the job. They hung out at the edge of the tree line fifty yards from the house. The new home sat on the top of a rolling green meadow surrounded by a thin line of trees. A river rolled by not far away as the birds fly. Natural thermals made this the ideal habitat for these birds. He’d never seen so many large birds in one place. He wasn’t sure at first if they were buzzards, turkey buzzards or vultures until they took to the air. Some sort of hawk by the way they flew effortlessly in the rising currents of air. He admired the sleek, black wings tipped with a silvery hue on the bottom side away from the sun. As one flew close enough for him to observe he wondered if he was being greeted or checked out for a potential source of food. The screech in the distance confirmed his visual that they were indeed hawks. He tried to count them as they landed in the trees to no avail.
He took another sip of the coffee he had nursed all the way from home. He had the feeling he was an unwelcome alien in their world. Before the house was built, they had full rein of the territory. The house messed with the natural thermals these graceful predators used to hunt. As he stared at the roosting hawks they stared back, motionless in the trees. That was enough bird watching. He hadn’t been hired to watch the birds. He’d been hired to put the stone on the new house, to make it beautiful and natural in this setting, as natural as any man made settlement can be that encroaches on nature. After all, these birds had lived and hunted these parts long before someone decided it would be a beautiful setting for a house.
He was officially retired, sixty seven going on too old to do this. The builder had asked him three times to do the job and he had said an emphatic “no” twice. The third time, in a moment of weakness, he said yes. Jeff, the builder, was on his good to work for list. They had collaborated many times before on projects and worked together well. Fifty years he had been in this business. His crew was all gone. They had all found less demanding work, or retired, or died. His right hand man had congestive heart failure and had to retire. Dan had tried to hire a new helper but the young people he hired baffled him. They didn’t have his work ethic, or values, or pretty much anything he could relate to. It happens when trying to traverse so many generations. He came close to grabbing one kid’s phone and throwing it in the mixer. He decided because of this he’d just do everything himself. It took him a lot longer, but there was a lot less stress involved. After all, he was retired.
He tipped up his mug to get the last drop of coffee and threw it in the front seat of the truck. He was burning daylight. He had to get moving. He grabbed what tools he would need and headed for the front of the house. By the time he had everything set up and mortar made it was ten o’clock. Already the fatigue was dogging him like dusk steals daylight. As he started laying the stone he saw a shadow on the ground looking every bit like a shadow of a large plane high in the sky. It was one of the majestic birds flying directly over the house casting its shadow in the mid morning sun. He looked up from his work just long enough to see it soar away in the invisible thermals the bird knew so well. In the distance a hawk screeched a dominant warning. The skies were silent for awhile before the “event”. Another screech and it happened. It seemed to start slowly and build. Hundreds of birds, large birds, blackened the sky! Roiling, boiling and churning birds, a whirlwind passing, a tornado of flying birds flowing from east to west in front of the house. He watched in awe at the event. It didn’t occur to him till after the spectacle was dissipating to take out his phone and document his encounter. Still he got the tail end of the show.
He had the feeling that he was being targeted or bullied. Intimidated by a bunch of birds? “No way, ain’t gonna happen!” he thought. Still, he thought of the Alfred Hitchcock movie “THE BIRDS” about thousands of birds that were flocking en mass and taking over the world by attacking any and every one! He calculated the distance from where he was standing to the truck, noting all the obstacles he had just earlier placed in his path to the truck, and how fast his tired old legs could move. Another screech and as quickly as it had started they were gone, flying higher and farther away out of sight.
Back to work. He was being paid to lay stone, not watch the birds. One stone on another, a giant jig saw puzzle that he created one piece at a time. The owner had called him an artist. He was taking two different stone and blending the colors to make a unique look for this house that couldn’t be duplicated by anyone, not even himself. The longer he worked the more automatic it became. He didn’t just see the stone in his hand but the one below it, the one beside it and the one that would go above. Color, shape, and size all within his control as the mosaic took shape. Soon he was thinking about the birds. He’d never seen so many large birds in one seemingly choreographed display. As he worked he imagined the birds as the mafia, sending out “the boys” to extort money, or the air force of an unknown enemy practicing maneuvers over disputed air space. In school his imagination and short attention span got him in trouble but out here it helped pass the time.
He had chosen a rather large stone that needed to be shaped to be the next puzzle piece so he picked up his four inch saw with the special blade with his left hand and began the process of creating the shape he needed. He was right handed but if he used his left hand the rotation of the saw threw the cloud of stone dust away from his body. He cut the face and then turned the stone to cut the back. Instead of taking the time to lie the stone down he held it with his right hand and cut with his left. Safety first unless it takes too long was the running joke. The saw pinched on the stone and jumped on the exposed underside of his right wrist like rabid animal blade first. By the time he realized what had happened the saw was on the ground and he was looking at a diagonal gash four inches long in his wrist. His two middle fingers on his right hand were useless. Worse, was the amount of blood pulsating out of his wrist. He grabbed the wound with his left hand and squeezed in an attempt to stop it. An involuntary scream echoed in the empty job site. As he squeezed the artery spewed blood in his face. It was everywhere, red coppery tasting blood. As he staggered to the truck he tried to spit it out but more just kept coming. According to the nurse when he had stents put in he could bleed out of this artery in two minutes. When he got to the truck he attempted to take off his belt to use as a tourniquet but couldn’t get it off with just one good hand.
Inside the truck was a sweatshirt so he stuck one finger of his left hand under the latch and pulled. The door swung open and he staggered around it clumsily and grabbed the shirt with his teeth. He let go of his right wrist long enough to wrap the shirt around his right arm and tie the sleeve. He stepped on the dangling sleeve with his foot and pulled as hard as he could on the wrapped sleeve with his good hand. From deep within him came a primeval growl from the pain and the exertion. He had to stop for a minute and catch his breath and plan his next move. He was still bleeding but at a much slower rate. He caught sight of all the blood in his truck and all over him. Boy would his wife be mad when she saw that!
His next move was to call for help. He kept his cell phone in his left pocket. This was the only good thing that had happened to him today. He leaned in the truck and laid the phone on the seat and dialed 911.
“What is your emergency” the voice said.
“I cut the artery in my right hand with a saw and I’m bleeding really bad.” he stated calmly.
“What is your location?” the voice said just as calmly.
“It’s Yorktown road by the big box store, right before the bend in the road. I don’t know the address, its new construction. I can’t remember the name of the store!” frustration had set in. He always knew where the job site was but blew off the address. His attitude might have just cost him his life!
Then he saw the familiar shadows. The birds were back. This time they were circling in an orderly fashion right above him. “Follow the birds. The big black hawks are circling me now.”
He remembered the Westerns he watched as a kid where the hero of the movie would see the buzzards circling off in the distance and arrived just in time to save his sidekick from certain death. He didn’t know if hawks did that but these were. What a good sized amount of carrion he would make! Funny what runs through the mind at times like this.
“Stay on the line.” The voice said. I’m sending an ambulance.
“OK” was all he could say. He was so tired. He relaxed ever so slightly and slid right out of the truck into a fetal position on the ground. He grabbed the sweatshirt and squeezed as hard as he could. He clutched his right arm to his chest with all his strength. He lay as still as he could, trying to keep the red life in his body. Off in the distance he heard a screech of a hawk. He was so tired. He wanted to drift off to sleep but knew he should fight to stay awake.
It was odd. He thought that at times like these your life was supposed to flash before your eyes. All he could think of was a reoccurring nightmare he had as a kid. A bear would chase him out of a forest into a meadow. At the end of the meadow was his house and he would run as fast as he could to the house. Just as the bear was about to pounce he would draw his feet up into a fetal position and kick at the bear as hard as he could. If he continued to do this he would start to fly! He always got away from the bear but try as he might he couldn’t seem to get higher that the treetops.
He was confused. He couldn’t for the life of him remember why he was holding on so tight to the sweatshirt. His right arm looked ashen through the blood like something out of a Zombie movie. His legs were cold on a summer’s day. He felt darkness engulfing him but his ears picked out the sound of an ambulance screaming off in the distance and then the screech of the hawks. His heart pounded in an attempt to pump the fluid that was no longer there. Pumping…..,pumping…..,pumping., fluttering, fluttering—– Silence—- as it gave up its valiant fight. He was floating, flying just like in his dream only he wasn’t kicking! A peace like he had never known washed over him. He was now with the hawks but they didn’t even seem to take notice. He hovered with them but cast no shadow. The ambulance was there. He was placed on the gurney and strapped down. A large muscular man was pumping frantically on his chest trying to restart his heart. He heard the bones crack in his rib cage but felt nothing. The man stopped long enough to allow a needle the size of a small dagger to be thrust into his chest. Again he felt no pain. The man continued his heroic efforts. They ripped off what remained of his bloody shirt.
“Clear!” one shouted and everyone got back. Paddles were placed on his chest and the triggers pulled. The carrion jumped on the gurney and then nothing. He was shoved in the ambulance and taken away. The birds would come up empty, no carrion today!
He felt the pull of a bright light. Warmth engulfed him with a joy that he had never known. There was no invisible force stopping him like in his dream. He had met the bear and it was him! The birds all faded away as he transitioned into an unknown dimension. People were there only they were shadowy light figures. No one talked but everyone understood. A oneness with the light and those that came before connected him to this place. He didn’t know what had happened but somehow he knew he was finally home!
09/25/2017
Great story!