Don’t let it eat you (2024) by me
In the crashing waves and whitecaps and swirling water of the Hudson Bay my boat tossed and turned and reminded me that it was built to go on lakes and reservoirs that it’s a small craft and there should be a water skier or tubers behind it and people with brewskis lounging in the sun believing they are skilled seamen but really they are steering floating fiberglass in a hole dug by men. But I took my boat into the north to achieve salvation in a time of great need since it was the only boat I could afford and deliverance was across the bay up there. Originating from the great state of Minnesota where there are many lakes hence my boat for laking I towed the vessel behind my Accord across the expanse of Ontario to the bay's shores. And since I’m not a great storyteller I will just offer exactly what happened: I died. Many don’t consider how treacherous the great bay can be for small craft. Storms can manifest from nothing into violent raging beasts generating waves as tall as a mountain with winds whipping and howling and spitting vehemence at your very existence. And let me tell you that the temperatures are frigid and sharp and will cut you up and slice you down and make you wish you packed more than a sweatshirt. You see there at the top of the bay is where the ruddy turnstone migrate. The birds return from the shores of the Atlantic states and some as far as South America and Africa to reunite with their mate and mate. They are wonderful monogamous animals who may have been separated by oceans and continents during the intervening months which are a dark and desolate winter in the north they had left behind. But they always return and you’d think in May it would be spring and warm but in May when the ruddys are screwing about around the Hudson getting fat and laying eggs it is a treacherous time for small water craft. Three months prior I dreamed of a gray place on water and fog and drear everywhere a place that was lonely and vast and empty save for a small bird pattering along the sand of the beach. I glided towards it because in a dream you don’t move in a rational manner so I glided towards the bird to ask where to get what I need and as I approached the bird took on an aggressive posture indicating I should leave and glide towards another area since spaces abound in this place. But I needed company I needed to understand the place and know just why and how to live in the vastness and the little fellow seemed to know since there it was prancing along and pecking at unseen microbes or whatever on the sand there. So I continued towards him. I guessed at him being a him because his plumage was glorious and attractive and that’s how birds work. His streaks of black and white and auburn were intoxicating and so worldly unlike many fancy birds in the tropics you see on the tv that seem alien and unbelievable. This little bird was magnificent and unpretentious and that seemed to me trustworthy and bountiful. I spoke to the bird but our conversation is private I promised him that so I will not recount here the details but I will tell you that his name was Tristan. I will tell you that Tristan said it was ok to tell people that. I can also tell you that our conversation helped me understand that his place was not permanent that he just came there to seek his Kendra in the spring and summer and that in the winter he left and his Kendra left but that’s why it was a special place for all his kind since it ensured they lived on and they understood that it was not theirs to keep. It might seem like that was a lot of our conversation right there but it wasn’t there was plenty more and that’s the part I can’t tell you. I can also tell you that even though Tristan seemed aggressive when I first floated over there he relaxed once he understood that it was only a dream and that’s also why he decided to talk in English and tell me his name. Upon waking I understood that I needed to get to that place and be there with Tristan and his kind and see it and experience that salvation. It was a need deep inside that cannot be explained and could not be ignored. So I sold my belongings and bought the boat which sank and killed me and phoned my children who live in the great states of Ohio and Virginia respectively and I phoned them and told them dad is going to boat to the north across the Hudson to see the ruddy turnstones that it must be done and that they should not argue because I’ve driven a boat a few times out on the lake and that's good enough and that I don’t have much to my name anyway so what’s the difference. So I told them I’d be going and that I might not be back but I won’t be gone and I’ll say hello to mom.