Winter Moon

traveler ... and himself.

On the last day of June, he decided to drive into Eagle's Roost to buy

groceries and other supplies. Considering that he now lived deep in

the shadow of the unknown and the fantastic, every mundane act-cooking

a meal, making his bed every morning, shopping--seemed to be a

pointless waste of time and energy, an absurd attempt to paint a facade

of normality over an existence that was now twisted and strange. But

life went on.

As Eduardo backed the Cherokee out of the garage, into the driveway, a

large crow sprang off the front-porch railing and flew across the hood

of the wagon with a great flapping of wings. He jammed on the brakes

and stalled the engine. The bird soared high into a mottled-gray

sky.

Later, in town, when Eduardo walked out of the supermarket, pushing a

cart filled with supplies, a crow was perched on the hood ornament of

the station wagon. He assumed it was the same creature that had

startled him less than two hours before.

It remained on the hood, watching him through the windshield, as he

went around to the back of the Cherokee and opened the cargo hatch. As

he loaded the bags into the space behind the rear seat, the crow never

looked away from him. It continued to watch him as he pushed the empty

cart back to the front of the store, returned, and got in behind the

steering wheel. The bird took flight only when he started the

engine.

Across sixteen miles of Montana countryside, the crow tracked him from

on high. He could keep it in view either by leaning forward over the

wheel to peer through the upper part of the windshield or simply by

looking out his side window, depending on the position from which the

creature chose to monitor him. Sometimes it flew parallel to the

Cherokee, keeping pace, and sometimes it rocketed ahead so far that it

became only a speck, nearly vanished into the clouds, only to double

back and take up a parallel course once more. It was with him all the

way home.

While Eduardo ate dinner, the bird perched on the exterior stool of the

window in the north wall of the kitchen, where he had first seen one of

the sentinel squirrels. When he got up from his meal to raise the

bottom half of the window, the crow scrammed, as the squirrel had.

He left the window open while he finished dinner. A refreshing breeze

skimmed in off the twilight meadows. Before Eduardo had eaten his last

bite, the crow returned.

The bird remained in the open window while Eduardo washed the dishes,

dried them, and put them away. It followed his every move with its

bright black eyes.

He got another beer from the refrigerator and returned to the table.

He settled in a different chair from the one in which he'd sat before,

closer to the crow. Only an arm's length separated them.

"What do you want?" he asked, surprised that he didn't feel at all

foolish talking to a damned bird.

Of course, he wasn't talking to the bird. He was addressing whatever

controlled the bird. The traveler.

"Do you just want to watch me?" he asked.

The bird stared.

"Would you like to communicate?"

The bird lifted one wing, tucked its head underneath, and pecked at its

feathers as if plucking out lice.

After another swallow of beer, Eduardo said, "Or would you like to

control me the way you do these animals?"

The crow shifted back and forth from foot to foot, shook itself, cocked

its head to peer at him with one eye.

"You can act like a damned bird all you want, but I know that's not

what you are, not all you are."

The crow grew still again.

Beyond the window, twilight had given way to night.

"Can you control me? Maybe you're limited to simpler creatures, less

complex neurological systems."

Black eyes glittering. Sharp orange beak parted slightly.

"Or maybe you're learning the ecology here, the flora and fauna,

figuring out how it works in this place, honing your skills. Hmmm?

Maybe you're working your way up to me. Is that it?"

Watching.

"I know there's nothing of you in the bird, nothing physical. Just

like you weren't in the raccoons. An autopsy established that much.

Thought you might have to insert something into an animal to control

it, something electronic, I don't know, maybe even something

biological. Thought maybe there were a lot of you out in the woods, a

hive, a nest, and maybe one of you actually had to enter an animal to

control it. Half expected Potter would find some strange slug living

in the raccoon's brain, some damned centipede thing hooked to its

spine. A seed, an unearthly-looking spider, something. But you don't

work that way, huh?"

He took a swallow of Corona.

"Ahhh. Tastes good."

He held the beer out to the crow.

It stared at him over the top of the bottle.

"Teetotaler, huh? I keep learning things about you. We're an

inquisitive bunch, we human beings. We learn fast and we're good at

applying what we learn, good at meeting challenges. Does that worry

you any?"

The crow raised its tail feather and crapped.

"Was that a comment," Eduardo wondered, "or just part of doing a good

bird imitation?"

The sharp beak opened and closed, opened and closed, but no sound