Beyond Cuckoo

Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Refuge—River meets Coyote 

River slipped into the refuge from the east and stashed her car in the cottonwoods off the service road. She stepped across the trickle that in wetter years is the Rio Grande.  Her need for open air justified the trespass. The New Mexico bosque had called to her in a dream, and late the next day she headed north from Las Cruces. 

She pitched her pup tent in a well-hidden grove and settled down to eat leftover brisket tacos. Nothing seemed right anymore. A pandemic had taken the world by surprise and no one knew when or how it would end. Mandatory isolation locked neighbors apart in fear and suspicion.

That night, another intense dream. She fell into a dark hole, maybe a well, or a chasm—she couldn’t tell. At the bottom, the walls spread out revealing an aquifer—an underground lake. The darkness gave way—illuminated by a subterranean sun. Waterfowl floated and dove for fish in this world beneath the earth’s crust. How could this be?

“Why couldn’t this be?” Coyote questioned her from a rock ledge. River turned towards the voice.

“Well for one there is no underworld,” she replied.

“How can you be so sure?”

A chorus of yelps jarred River awake— a coyote pack hunting in the moonlight. She pulled the bedding tight and listened. Minutes later she heard leaves rustling and a sniffing sound outside the tent. In a move that surprised even her, River unzipped the door-flap and crawled outside to find herself nose to nose with Coyote—neither of them afraid.

“Hello, are you lost?” she asked as she gently rubbed the animal’s ears.

“I came for you.”

“Well, with the world caving in on itself, I could certainly use a friend.”

“All that’s happening is only delusion.”

“I feel as if it’s destiny.”

“It’s true that the trampling of the earth has disrupted balance. Yet, destiny is the direction taken with will, it is not predetermined. The pivotal point is set. What happens next will be the right thing.”

“How did a Coyote become so wise? I thought your kind were tricksters.”

“It’s the world that plays tricks on us, we simply act as directors. People fear sickness and death, but they are only part of this earth play. Death is not our enemy; it is a transition.”

“But the pain is real, people are dying, and many mourn their loss. This can’t be right.”

“Right, wrong—light, dark—happy, sad, it’s a movie, nothing more.”

“So, what’s the point?”

“Detachment and a return to the source.”

“I dreamed about an underworld and you were there.”

“Yes, we were there together.”

“So, what is that place?”

“A vortex where existences often fold into one another. Today I am Coyote, tomorrow I could be like you—human.”

Coyote turned as his pack appeared on the hilltop, standing under the spotlight of the moon. They howled in unison and he ran to them. River closed her eyes and steadied her breath. She felt the power of the light, yet unsettled thoughts circled haphazardly.

She thought about the ocean, which she hadn’t seen for years. She wanted to dive in and swim ahead of all others and not look back—to be River who runs to the sea–to be the ocean. But there was more to do. What exactly? Didn’t know. Tomorrow. She would do whatever IT was tomorrow.

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