 When a little boy dreams, he dreams of frogs and fish and baseball and, sometimes, dinosaurs.
Stand close and look hard at a small pillow-creased face and you can see pets gathered from
ditches and balls caught and even dinosaurs chasing -- you can see it in the slightest twitch of an
eyelid. |
|
| In the warm tones of early morning on the Fourth of July, I stood next to a young friend's bed and
wrestled with the notion of turning off his dream. But all of summer is a dream for an eight-year-old. I patted his small back and quietly repeated his name. The dream was broken, soft eyes
popped open. |
|
| "Do you want to go look for the terns?" I asked. Saying nothing, the boy turned out of his bunk,
pulled on shorts and unsteadily marched into the bathroom.
|
|
| "What about Travis? Do you know if he wants to come?" |
|
|
Upton returned, zipping up his shorts, and said, "He wants to come, but he likes to sleep. Travis,
wake up, we're going to look at birds." |
|
| "What kind of birds?" asked Travis the instant his eyes were open.
|
|
| We were going to find the least terns which nest on the beaches along the Mississippi coast. With
the house still asleep, we were setting out on a high adventure. |
|
| The boys filled opposite corners of the back seat of my Jeep and stared through droopy eyes at
Bay Saint Louis and the white specks of boats speeding through the glassy water to secret fishing
holes. |
|
| "I thought we were going to see rabbits," said Travis. I had forgotten my promise to show them
the place where rabbits could be seen along the road in early morning eating the sweet grass next
to the marshes of Buccaneer Sate Park. I've seen twenty, even fifty rabbits, I had boasted.
Without missing a beat I turned into the road which goes south and west along the bay. The open
area in front of the marshes near the park was empty. No rabbits.
|
|
| "I've watched the rabbits here," I said, "mostly in winter." I could see small bodies lean up, chins
lifted, searching the marsh's edge for furry forms which weren't there. As we left the coast road,
both boys sagged back down in their corners without uttering a word. I entered a dirt road which
leads to several swampy ponds in Lakeshore, praying there might be something better than rabbits,
or at least as good. |
|
| "There, just there, that's a great egret, he's the largest egret and carries a yellow bill. Over there is
a snowy egret, he's smaller." |
|
| "With a black bill," said Upton. |
|
| "And yellow feet, he is said to wear golden slippers," I added. Upton paged through the field
guide and proved our sightings to his friend. See. We saw a gallinule and a little blue heron
before leaving Lakeshore, and I was sure all thoughts of rabbits were forgotten. |
|
| We went east along the coast and found, on a grassy patch of beach, hundreds of least terns
tending their nests. We walked in single file onto the beach and stooped in a small huddle next to
a scrape in the sand containing two brown-speckled tan eggs; agitated parents swooped down on
us, squawking their complaints. |
|
| "Neat," said Travis.
|
|
| We continued east, now in search of donuts, but donuts were as scarce as rabbits. We settled for
the Golden Arches. Heading back toward Pass Christian we stopped where the interstate highway
spans a country road, and beneath the little bridge, we watched barn swallows noisily flit in and out
of the bridge supports. We crab-walked up the concrete embankment underneath the structure
and perched for a time near three pimpled mud nests stuck with spittle to the concrete. |
|
| "Oh, neat," said Travis. |
|
| In a line of traffic, near the Pass, we sat in silence waiting for a long freight to pass. "Thank you,
Mr. David," said Travis. |
|
| "Yes, thank you," added Upton. "Barn swallows are pretty."
|
|
| Home again, with voices pitched high, reveling, the boys shared our adventure with parents. I sat
smiling to myself, hoping there might be room in the dreams of these little boys, squeezed between
the frogs and fish and baseball and dinosaurs, for images of wingbeats and streaking color and
birdsong. My reverie was snapped by Upton and Travis bolting into the room, plopping down on
my lap, and screaming at once, "Do you want to help us check the crab traps? We have three
crabs. In saltwater." |
|
| "Sure. Let's go." |
1994.