R W Nichols
Melody’s mother was still in her hippie stage in 1968 when she read to her the newspaper article about a “tree hugger”. Dee listened, only half awake. Apparently the owners of the property were attempting to clear-cut a corner lot to be better able to put up another gas station or convenience store. There was a small group of young people protesting the cutting of a hundred year old oak located in the center of the property. They had chained themselves to the trunk before the workers and their dozers had arrived. That had been two days earlier and it was still a stalemate.
Dee looked out the window at the spreading tree beside her bedroom. She felt a protective surge flow through her. She loved her tree. It was a large old maple. Its rough, gnarled trunk went straight up for eight feet before branching, with several heavy, thick limbs growing out then up. This gave the tree the beautiful mushroom shape that most people prefer.
Now Dee could feel the heavy, cold weight of the chain lying across her belly. She sat in front of the tree facing the red-faced, angry man. The girl beside her on the ground shook a little with every loud yell he made. She seemed to be a timid girl and Dee felt sorry for her. The young man on the other side was strong in his convictions (or good at bluffing.) He didn’t seem worried, or at all impressed, with how loudly the other man could yell.
The breeze ruffled her hair a little, getting it off her forehead, fanning the tiny sweat beads forming there. Dee was thankful. She leaned back against her old friend, and tilting her head straight back looked up at the many layered branches and the leaves flirting with the sun. The red squirrel chipped a warning note, and then once again. There was so much life and movement in this old tree’s sheltering canopy.
A police cruiser pulled up. They’d come to back up the loud, angry man. Why did the “powers that be” always have reinforcement? They had bolt cutters and were pulling Dee and the others apart to get at the chains. The timid girl screamed. Dee tried to lock arms with her, to help her stay strong. The man beside her stiffened out as straight as he could manage against the cops fighting him, trying to make it harder for them to move his body. Dee mimicked his actions, hoping that they were as effective as they’d been told they’d be by the professional protesters that were criss-crossing the country right now. There was a lot to protest this year with the Viet Nam war and all. The destruction of this old tree was the final straw for Dee. She’d finally realized that she had to fight back. Hopefully, the reporters would be here soon. She knew that her little group couldn’t hold out much longer.
“Dee? Dee. Are you hungry, honey?” It was her mother talking. She was back in her room. The same room she’d been in for so many years. Dee turned her eyes to her mother and saw the happy response on her face before her eyes again found the window to continue her study of the tree. Dee’s mother went back to fixing lunch.
The article, an advertisement in the local paper, was about searching out your family tree. For a “nominal fee” they would help you get started and would even find a couple of birth, death, or marriage certificates pertaining to your family. Dee’s mother was thrilled with this new hobby. As a single mother with a nursing job at the local hospital, she didn’t have a lot of extra money. She’d been saving for their “help” for several months. It was the main topic of conversation in the little household. Dee liked having her so animated and happy.
Dee went out the window and climbed up into the tree. She sat on the lowest branch quietly swinging her feet. It was always so peaceful there. The smell of the warm bark and the wild flowers blooming below filled every inward breath, making her feel connected to the earth and the tree even more. The tree was so solid and stationary, while the leaves gently twisted and swayed on the ends of their little stems. The contented birds hopped and fluttered among the branches.
After looking around, Dee decided to move up a little higher. The limbs on the bottom of the tree were starting to become crowded. Her grandparents (her mother’s parents) were sitting there smiling at her. Above them, their parents moved on the limbs, shaking the tree a little bit. Many more people were now crowding the space.
“Hello, Dee,” her Great-Uncle Anthony said, as he moved back on the branch allowing her to pass. Dee grabbed the swaying limb desperately trying to keep her balance as she struggled past him and her grandmother’s seven other siblings. Jostling for position, she continued up past more ancestors in odd clothes speaking a strange language among themselves. They all looked at her kindly, but there was just NO ROOM! As she continued to climb, she fought down a little claustrophobic panic, until she finally broke through into the empty limbs on the top half of the tree. Here everything was again serene.
She sat thankfully, catching her breath and allowing her heartbeat to slow. Abruptly an old man popped onto the branch beside her, shaking the limb, and looking at her in surprise. Dee quickly grabbed onto the trunk to stop herself from falling. Her mother had found another of her Old World ancestors. Dee knew that she would need to go even higher up the tree, no matter how scary. The ground was such a long way down. Gritting her teeth, she climbed up another two limbs. As she settled herself cautiously on a much thinner branch than she was comfortable with, an elderly woman of 85-90 years materialized beside the old man. They enthusiastically hugged each other murmuring funny sounding words of endearment. Dee watched the reunion with detached interest, while she wondered how many “greats” these people were. She was glad the old man’s wife had been found. Apparently he was not used to being alone. They must have been married a long time.
Dee looked around the upper branches. The breeze was moving the limbs easily with every light gust, making it more difficult to hold on. As she swayed back and forth, a slim young woman barely out of her teens suddenly appeared on the limb below her. She looked so sad and alone. Dee empathized with the tragedy of this distant relative’s life. “Too young,” she realized in snatches of distracted thought. She was running out of room and time.
Dee’s mother turned on the radio and the music caught Dee’s attention. She liked the beat and slow sensuality of jazz the best. That seemed to be her mother’s favorite, too. At least she played it the most. Now she tipped Dee’s face up to hers, searching it with concern. Dee’s eyes wandered back to the window.
“How are you feeling today, honey?” Without an expectation of any response, the woman’s despair and frustration were evident in her voice, although she tried to cover them.
Words. Words slowly filtered into Dee’s consciousness. Her mother was reading to her again. Today she was reading the medical breakthrough and science section of the Sunday paper. (Her mother was always so hopeful when she read about the medical breakthroughs.) The daily morning ritual seemed to comfort her, while lately Dee could only rarely focus. Dee gave an extraordinary effort and heard-
“Three years ago on Nov. 30, 1975, at the Hadar site in Ethiopia, Paleoanthropologist Donald Johanson’s party found the nearly complete skeleton of a small hominid they nicknamed ‘Lucy’, after the Beatles song ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.’ At the same site the next year, thirteen more were found of various—”
Dee sat in the window looking out at the grassland and the child playing near her. The child regularly lifted her head from the stick she was poking into a termite mound and looked around. Dee watched her small success with interest for a brief time, and then turned again toward the big tree. It was of comforting shape; with the bottom limbs higher than most predators could reach or jump, but not so high that she or her small troop couldn’t reach them safely. They would stay there tonight, high up in the branches.
Dee jumped down from her perch and walked on feet with curved toes toward the tree, picking her way through the tall grasses. She was careful to stay low and stooped, occasionally standing erect to quickly search with wary eyes. She was careful, also, not to brush any of the vegetation, so there would be no ripple showing her passage. The child fell in behind her, walking just as carefully. As they meandered around a thicket they met a boy who uncomfortably looked down at the ground, avoiding eye contact. He stepped back to allow them to pass, then followed in line. At the base of the tree, Dee leaped and gracefully swung up onto a bottom limb. The children silently followed, then climbed higher, and started making their beds. Dee sat, enjoying the quiet evening noises of insects buzzing and larger animals blowing out steamy breaths as they bedded down for the night.
A twig snapped. She became instantly alert and tense as all other background noise stopped. Seeing movement behind a tall clump of grass, she relaxed as the rest of the band wandered into view. A young adult male was leading. He was tall, a little less than four and a half feet. Dee gritted her teeth, as he stared insolently up at her. He was the oldest son of the number two female, and was always irritating her. His mother was directly behind and nearly collided with him when he stopped abruptly. She clicked her teeth together in minor aggravation, then stepped out around him, stretched, yawned, and ran up the trunk and settled in the branches. Mothers with infants, pregnant females, a young adolescent female, and an old male that had lost a few teeth came out into the opening under the tree. Most sat near the tree’s base, resting and digging for roots and grubs.
Dee continued her vigil; alert for the slight movement in the grass, a shadow that shouldn’t be there, or noise that didn’t seem quite right. Below, the brazen male was smashing a tough root with a heavy rock when his aim slipped and he hit another rock. The resulting sharp repercussion pierced the twilight and made Dee stiffen. Delighted with the noisy result, the male did it again, and then again. Afraid of the audience that may be listening, Dee made a silencing noise, “Chit! Chit!” Most of those remaining on the ground leaped for the safety of the tree, heedful of their leader’s warning.
The male looked up at her with rebellious eyes and smashed the rocks together once more before stretching and making a pretense of yawning. Then, taking his time and carrying his prize, he ascended the tree. After much branch shaking and some jostling for position, the tree became quiet as everyone settled in for the night. Soon a faint snore or occasional leaf moving was the only sign anything was there.
But something knew. Something approached the tree in a very slow and controlled way, sniffing the air as it came. The rare movement possibly visible to observant eyes was a twitch at the end of a long tail, whenever the breeze brought a particularly delectable scent around. As the little band slept on, the animal looked up into the branches, hungry. Dee was the lowest in the tree. She chose to be the first line of defense to her little troop. The big cat would have to take her.
Dee woke in terror and caught her breath sharply. Yellow eyes stared up at her. “Ooh! Ooh!” Her fearful sounds alerted the troop to the danger they were in. Cries from the infants and the noise of branches breaking to use as weapons, temporarily slowed the predator. Then, instinctively realizing that stealth was no longer necessary, it focused its huge, unblinking eyes on Dee and started clawing up the trunk.
The shimmering moonlight reflected from its hypnotic, glowing orbs and from huge, oversized fangs. Dee stared back in shock, paralyzed with fear. Her stick was in her hands, but that wasn’t much defense. The predator was taking its time, enjoying the deadly game.
Suddenly a heavy rock flew through the air and hit the cat on the brow. There was the crunch of bone. With a startled snarl, the creature fell to the ground. Frantically blinking and screaming with pain, it wiped its face and heavily bleeding brow with its paw. With its eye already puffing shut and blood now spread hot on its face, it blindly crashed away.
Dee watched this with her mouth open in surprise. After the racket faded and the terrifying nightmare was over, she looked up amazed.
“Chit! Chit!” the male whispered leaning forward, in a conspiratorial manner.
Startled, Dee looked at him in confusion. Then the joke that he was sharing hit her and she laughed and swayed back and forth on her little bed of leaves. He joined in, laughing and hooting, too. For a brief time the night was alive with comedy instead of tragedy.
Dee’s mother sat by her bed. The tears silently trailed down her cheeks. She had known that Dee was leaving her. She understood that her life would be simpler now; it wasn’t easy raising a handicapped child. But it hurt so bad to lose her. She had called 9-1-1 when she noticed that her darling baby was no longer breathing. That “medical breakthrough” she had prayed for hadn’t come fast enough.
On the savanna, a night bird faintly called. The grasses swayed in a light breeze. In the tree, the little troop slept safe for that night, under the twinkling of a million stars and a pale moon.
© Copyright 2008 R W Nichols