Seen by Nebraska Sowbelly. 23 Merriam Road. 6:30 pm. Attacked no humans or horses. Droppings consistent with Native Black Hills predator. Residents advised to keep pets indoors.”
“The Long Walker,” Mother said.
“What’s that?” Father said, flicking the edge of his page so the paper collapsed in the middle, enough for him to see over it and into his wife’s face.
“Nothing,” Mother said. She paused for a moment looking at Father’s eyes over the rims of his glasses.
“Have you heard of the Black Hills?” she said, tracing his beard with the back of her wrist as he nestled his hand between her thighs.
“Sure,” Father said, “Some 2,000 miles west of here. Highest peaks east of the Rockies.”
“That’s quite a distance,” Mother said.
“I’m more interested in these black hills,” Father said, digging his hand deeper into Mother’s lap.
The next day Mother drove Birdie and I out to the butte overlooking the highway while Father was at work. She parked on the edge of the cliff. Below the steep drop, cars sped by. The air had an industrial tinge to it, which Mother seemed to find comforting. She pushed the driver’s seat into recline so that she could rest her feet out the open window and feel the breeze whenever a truck passed. As we listened to the sound of the trucks cresting the hill before the way station, Mother took out the old Atlas that she kept crammed in the glove compartment of the car for emergency. The Black Hills, she told Birdie and me while taking Birdie on her lap in the driver’s seat, were an isolated mountain range that traversed from South Dakota to Wyoming. The trek east had taken the young ambassador nearly a year. As I looked out the window at the highway below, I pictured the body of the cougar as it emerged into the floodlights of Nebraska Sowbelly’s chicken coop. Father often surrendered after work to nature documentaries on PBS. His favorites were about large birds of prey. Beyond the scenery, I wasn’t much taken with these nostalgic glimpses of the hunt. What impressed me more were the strange feats of travel animals engaged in primarily for breeding. Birds flew south to the equator, migrating long distances called flyways, signaled by the length of the day. Salmon swum headlong upstream. Animals possessed honing devices that sounded at disparate intervals. This was something to which I sensed Mother could relate.
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