(042)
Two short windows had developed in the summer without rain – both before and after the sun sat atop the world and lathered it in an oppressive heat – in which life could continue as normal.
A mottled brown frog rests at the side of the river in the early hours of the morning, daubing himself with the sprinkling of dew that’d settled on the dried and brittle grass the night before. He feigns disinterest at the few gnats and flies still buzzing in the air around him, but one eye is always open. A robin perches on the edge of her nest facing her three oversized babies, each with their mouth held expectantly open. She digs her claws in and flaps her wings to show them once more what to do, but the lesson remains unheeded. Another robin slaloms through the branches and loops up to land beside her. The children’s cries are aimed in his direction. He chirps at them but they don’t hear. A shared glance between parents. No food, again.
Beneath them the shadows shrink as the sun peeks above the horizon, and all too soon the first window is sealed shut.
Most seek refuge in the tiny islands of shade that remain beneath the trees and bushes, but that does nothing against the rising temperatures. Those of whom who venture out do not do so for long. Birds and mammals appear solely to drink from the ever-shrinking river before retreating back to where they came from. Reptiles bask until the sun is almost at its highest, then seek solace underground. Even the hardy flies eventually succumb, careening dazed and confused from the sky into the dirt, perhaps to be consumed by a hidden and grateful onlooker.
Time flows in slow motion, and all the while the heat grows thicker and heavier. Each day it remains, fewer and fewer re-emerge from their hiding places. Last, shallow breaths are expired without ceremony, leaving food for those who find it.
Of course, it hadn’t started out this way. After a particularly rainy spring the first week had been a blessing. The heat and blooming flowers brought with it a sudden surge of activity. Winged insects filled the air, flitting here and there – occasionally falling victim to an eagle eyed predator. The grass grew lush and the rabbits feasted. Rain had been nothing but a distant memory.
Now it was all they waited for, but the rain wouldn’t come.
The sun clings to the sky for what feels like an eternity, but eventually it recedes and the second window cracks open. After nothing but the sound of their own blood throbbing in their ears all day, the busy sounds of life return for the final few hours of daylight. Birds begin scouring the field for dead bugs – with both of the robins amongst them, ferrying their meagre spoils back to their nest nestled within the branches of the sycamore tree.
Once the field is picked clean, the male heads towards the river to drink and bathe, while the female retakes her place on the side of the nest. Her children thrust their open beaks in her direction asking for more but she stands firm. She beats her wings across their faces to steal their attention and they flinch briefly away from her. She grasps the moment and spreads her wings open as wide as she can for them to watch. Two of the three continue to cry for food, but one holds back. She focuses her attention on him, flexing her wings slowly backwards and forwards so he can see what she’s doing, before flapping them furiously and launching into the air, looping back to land where she was. She begins the process again and watches as he struggles to his feet between his siblings, falling more than once, but eventually standing at the opposite side of the nest, watching her intently. She flexes her wings and he unfurls his with difficulty, off-balancing himself and toppling back to his knees. She waits patiently for him to stand again before continuing. He unfurls his wings with care, wobbling as he pulls them back and forth along with her. She increases her speed and he follows suit until he catches the wind, rises slightly up and stops, falling onto his siblings in a heap. She considers beginning again, but the gloom of night has already started to fill in the gaps, and her partner returns to the nest to relieve her of her watch.
She glides into the murkiness of dusk towards the river, content with the knowledge that she’d got close, and would get closer tomorrow, without knowing what tomorrow would bring.
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