LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 53
Shedding his harness, John opened the wicker pen and twelve pups scrambled out like they couldn’t get away soon enough. Yet inside the pen, the wicker weave concealed what lay inside, the thirteenth pup, a wet, motionless, clump of fur.
“Do you have any injuries?” asked Elkhart, ruddering while the dugout team backpaddled fiercely, slowing the big canoe to land in the shallows.
Nothing serious,” Anders replied, standing ashore with a mooring line in hand.
“Where’s Mattie?” Sophie asked, scanning the shoreline with her eyes, perked up in the middle of the dugout.
Glancing about, John returned to the pen and found the pup.
Sophie cried out as he lifted its limp body from the wicker.
Straddling the dugout’s gunwale, Laureal stepped fast through rocky shallows and climbed aboard the raft.
Mattie lay in John’s arms, not dead but trembling with eyes open.
“I don’t feel any broken bones,” lifting his eyes to his wife.
“Here,” reaching in, gently scooping the pup up, “I’ll take her ashore.”
While Sophie and Noah went with Laureal, the two birch bark canoes came gliding in.
“What happened to Mattie?” Rowe asked, her tone that of a worried girl.
“I don’t know,” John replied, pursing his lips and knitting his brows. Then, stroking Ellie so that she may remain calm, he reached between her hooves, picked up a football-sized rock, and tossed it in the river.
Gripping the gunwales, Rowe turned to Jessie.
“First things first,” said Jessie, reading the girl’s eyes, knowing her old enough to understand they could not leave their boat to drift away any more than they could drag it ashore without first unloading it, lest they damage its hull.
Coming alongside the raft, Cody looked up at John, “That cave-in about did you in!”
“Yeah…but it got us off the wall,” flashing a grin.
“You’re lucky to be alive!” Mia reprimanded, chaffing at his humor.
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck,” John retorted.
“I don’t,” walking past on a beeline for Anders.
Fischer clutched his attaché case to his chest. “I certainly do hope the puppy is okay.”
Wrapped up in Anders’ arms, Mia gazed into her lover’s eyes, “When that cliff caved in, my heart nearly stopped.”
Harley waded in shin-deep water, carrying a load of gear from canoe to shore, “Who’d have known Ellie could squeal like that?”
“Sounded like a stuck pig!” Cody replied, also carrying a load.
“Mr. Onak.”
“Yes, ma’am,” turning to the Matriarch.
“Are you sure you’re alright, sir?”
“Yes ma’am, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Mom,” Laureal called with a measure of distress, “can you help me, please?”
Knee deep in the river, Elkhart studied the sky before turning to the men, “By tomorrow night, it will be raining.”
Stopping in his tracks, Harley turned to the others, “If the ground gets soft before we move these boats…we’ll tear a trail through this saddle that a blind man could follow.”
Fischer looked from raft to dugout to birch-bark canoes, all loaded with gear, “Can we move all this before the rain comes?”
“We will if it takes all night,” Harley replied, as blunt as he was matter-of-fact, his comment aimed at no one in particular.
Mia shook her head in disbelief, “We’ve been at this for three weeks straight, and now, we’re supposed to portage all this…in the dark of night? We are worn out and prone to mistakes. Did we not just misjudge the river in the hook? Did we not just escape disaster by the skin of our teeth?”
“Do you know another way?” John asked.
“Look at us!” Mia replied.
Taxed like everyone else, Anders put his arm around Mia, “If we are to work through the night,” looking first to his lover and then the others, “let us come together, join hands, and begin by asking for strength.”
All came together in the shallow water along the shore except for Laureal and her mother who were off in the grass, doing what little they could to revive Mattie.
After the prayer, Julian turned to Elkhart, his young eyes searching for reassurance, “Once we’ve moved all this and swept the trail, then we’ve done as you proposed…right?”
“As good as is humanly possible, we will have disappeared without a trace.” And managing a little smile, “On the other end of this portage, we’ll be able to rest for several days.”
“A fair chunk of daylight yet remains,” said John, his tone positive. He stood with the lead rope in hand, having freed Ellie from her anchors. “If we can get our trail swept before the rain comes, then the more rain, the better.”
“The Great Spirit has spoken,” said Emma, her expression entirely cryptic, looking from one family member to the next. “He has spoken, and we have heard him in our hearts, that we may do his will."
All stood gazing at the Matriarch, and she, knee deep beside the dugout, continued, “Harley, as you said, this must be done. Anders, as you said, we should begin with a prayer. Mia, as you said, we must bear in mind our current state and proceed carefully. And John, as you said, we must take advantage of the opportunity that is given, that the heavens may open and finish our work better than anything we could hope to do ourselves.”
At last, the moment was broken by Weya and Yike’s arrival. The two canines went directly into the cool shallows where they plopped down on their stomachs, their tongues hanging out, panting heavily from their long run. No more had Weya lain down, however, than her pups came running and splashing to greet her.
The wolf bared her teeth, warning her pups to give her space. But as she warned, a very different expression came over her. One of her pups was missing!
Perhaps it was only the wolf’s extra sharp sense of smell, or perhaps a mother’s intuition that guided her eyes to Laureal and Jessie, sitting in the grass with the children, but whatever it was, she rose immediately and began towards them.
As Weya came on, Laureal scooted back several yards while taking the children with her.
First with a sniff, then a gentle nudge, Weya laid down with Mattie between her front paws, and although still panting from her long run, she caught her breath and set to licking the injured pup.
Confused, the other pups tried to horn in. Weya again bared her teeth and snarled to warn them off. Then, with the utmost gentleness, she returned her attention to Mattie, licking and making little whines like momma dogs do when calling their blind pups to suckle.
Mattie lifted her head, perhaps on account of the increased blood flow that her mother’s licking produced (as proven by 21st century science). Perhaps it was due to increased electrical activity produced in the pup’s brain by the voice of her mother. Perhaps it was love’s lifting effect. Perhaps it was a combination of things. Perhaps it was beyond human comprehension. Whatever it was, Mattie slowly, very slowly, rose on wobbly legs.
While Mattie recovered, Weya carefully allowed the pups in to greet their sibling.
Looking on joyfully, Laureal put an arm around each of the twins, “We have to wait our turn.”
Just a few yards away, John was struck by the sight of it, like pausing before a window to the future—his pregnant wife with a child under each arm. And directly behind Laureal, Jessie on a knee, partaking in the joy. Just there before him in the soft grass, bathed in summer sunshine, happy puppies, the sweet laughter of children, and the ever-flowing voice of the river. Only Emma was missing. Little did John know, she stood directly beside him—
“What are you thinking, John Summerfield?”
Startled, the Seeker turned to the Matriarch, “Oh, nothing much.”
“Nothing much?” Emma asked, “I doubt that,” reading his eyes, thinking him unusually contemplative.
“Well…for a moment there, it seemed like I kinda sort of caught a glimpse of…oh, but you know,” with a nervous laugh, “no one can know the future.”
“When it comes to what truly matters,” Emma began, a foretelling look in her eye, “we do know what will be. We know that joys and sorrows are sure to come, and like the sun and rain, they are certain to nourish the seeds we sow today.”
Holding the Seeker’s gaze, Emma could see her words sinking in until, snapping out of it, young John chuckled and shook his head, “Between you and Jessie…I don’t know who’s worse!”
Yet smiling, Emma stepped away, and John turned to his horse, “Seems a lifetime ago, don’t it, girl, since you and I first set out.” He unfastened her lead rope and set her loose in a patch of lush green grass, “Fuel up while you can. We’ve a long way to go.”
Rutin stood looking into the low saddle through which the portage passed—a shady elongated hollow between rugged hills thick with pines. It wasn’t just any portage. It was a natural portal—at one end, the lands that were known, at the other end, a wilderness known only to himself and a handful of others.
Harley came alongside him, “I’ve never been through there.”
“Few men have,” turning his eyes to Harley. “When I was a young man, a council of elders sent Carl and I out here. We were scarcely more than boys, jacked up on tales of white stags, and beautiful forest nymphs, bathing in hidden pools. Of course, we found nothing but wilderness.” And chuckling to himself, “The old men knew it all along.”
Laughing, Harley turned back towards the river. Then, looking back over his shoulder, he said, “That’s why they sent you.”
“And we learned a thing or two,” Elkhart said to himself.
Emma joined Rutin for a few words, after which they called the family together and Elkhart assigned work tasks.
“Julian,” he began, nodding to the way ahead, “it’s not quite a mile to the lake. Scout the portage and report.”
While Julian armed up, Elkhart continued, “Harley, you’re in charge here. Anders, John, and Onak will help you disassemble the raft. The rest of us will carry loads to the lake. Cody will bring up the rear with the rifle. We will stay together and keep the children in the middle.”
Noah, half-listening and half-playing with pups, stopped and turned to Sophie, “Did you hear that? We’re big enough to walk trail now.”
Lifting his eyes from the children, Rutin’s expression told of his concern. “From here on,” he began, “predators will prowl these woods with little fear of humans…each holding a significant advantage over us in the realm of the senses, each searching for its next meal, and not one to miss an opportunity.”
Fortunately for the family, with the exception of Mr. Fisher who was learning fast, they possessed a level of knowledge and skill attainable only by those who made their living on the frontier, itself the cusp of the wild.
Turning to Fischer, Rutin continued, “Robert, Laureal and the children will help you tether the pups in a line with Storm in the lead. Laureal, after you’ve assisted Mr. Fischer, fit Yike and Nemo with their backpacks, put them on their leashes, and walk them just ahead of the pups. Robert, you will manage the back of the pup’s tether like driving a sled. In this way, with Storm following his father and uncle, we’ll keep the little rascals in line. And Robert, I mean you no offense when I remind you, sir…in fact, I should remind us all that each of these pups is worth its weight in gold.”
Elkhart did not have to elaborate. All understood that come winter, the survival of the family would depend on the health of their shed dogs and horse.”
“I take no offense,” said Fischer. “I am honored to be here, and I hope to live up to the trust you have placed in me.”
“Thank you, Robert. Your willingness to do whatever’s needed is greatly appreciated. And I might add, we all must have such an attitude, if we are to survive what lies before us.”
Elkhart’s ability as a leader was not wasted on Mr. Fischer. Robert did not have the constitution for lifting and bundling heavy logs. As a scribe, however, he had faithfully recorded their journey, a journey with a future that none could begin to foresee, for what they believed to be a monolith containing a treasure of ancient knowledge was, in reality, little more than a marker stone. The actual Data Block lay buried beneath, a massive labyrinth in a state of evolution beyond imagination.
“Once we make the lake,” Elkhart continued, “Julian and Cody will return here to assist the men while the rest of us establish camp.”
“We’ll need to make torches,” Mia commented, thinking ahead as the women prepared to begin the portage, each loading up with as much gear and supplies as could be safely carried.
“Place your feet wisely,” said Jessie, glancing to her pregnant daughter as the clanswomen began upon the path.
Ahead of them, the portage appeared a saddle between wooded hills, a shady elongated hollow, carpeted with grass, peppered with trees, rimmed here and there by small outcrops. Seventy yards wide and about a mile long, it rose gently to a crest before angling down to the lake on the other side. Its gentle pitch allowed for drainage, keeping it from becoming boggy while, at the same time, gradual enough to resist erosion and the formation of gullies. In its middle, a single animal trail lay well-defined, being used by everything from squirrels and rabbits to moose and caribou.
As the rest of the family headed out, Harley turned to the men, “We’ll disassemble the raft first. We’ll start by taking four logs off the bottom tier. We’ll rope them together to form a floating corral. After that, we can loosen the rest without losing them to the river.”
Measuring 15x15 feet, the family’s raft was as big as the river’s depth would allow and nearly too small to hold its payload. Its structure consisted of three layers of logs. The largest logs comprised the bottom layer: ten balsam poplar logs, each roughly 17 inches in diameter and 15 feet in length, weighing approximately 600 pounds each. Eighteen intermediate logs comprised the middle layer, also of balsam poplar, each roughly 10 inches in diameter and 15 feet in length. The deck was made of hardwood: 30 yellow birch logs, each 6 inches in diameter and 15 feet long. In all, the combined weight of the 58 logs was 16,000 pounds. Seemingly a lot to portage until one considers the megaliths transported by hunter-gatherers at the end of an ice age 12,000 years before. Megaliths weighing up to 40,000 pounds. A feat not easily explained. Then again, perhaps it was only natural that, in the best of times, highly skilled and incredibly resourceful people with little concept of leisure time channeled their energetic lives into civilization’s first great construction projects.
Harley, Anders, John, and Onak used the rafting poles to lever the raft off the rocky shallows and into waist-deep water. To keep it from drifting away, they moored two of its corners to trees along the shore. They then worked from the opposite end where, thanks to natural buoyancy, the first log rolled out from under like a giant fishing bobber that had become half-waterlogged. John, Anders, and Onak kept it from floating away while Harley took a coil of rope from the deck and attached it to the log’s notched end. He then handed the coil to John, “Anchor to that tree,” pointing upstream.
While Ellie fueled up, the men strung four of the big logs together to create a water corral along the shore. The current was mild there in the corner, or at least in comparison to the swift water of the river. As a point of reference, a pair of islands sat in the middle of the river—a landmark indicating the place where the waterway completed its hook and flowed away to the east. Meanwhile in the west, the summer sun still hung a fair piece above the forest. The time was approximately 4 p.m.
The men worked as a team, untying lashings and coiling ropes. The logs, set free from one another, spread out like oil poured into water.
Harley gestured with a wave of his hand, “Onak, come around the other side of that log.” Then, turning to John and Anders, “Move the remaining big logs to the downstream end of the corral. We’re going to start with the intermediate ones.”
Selecting a hardwood deck log, Harley again turned to the Inuk, “Onak, find the straightest of these you can and follow my lead.”
In the buoyant water, the 210 pound deck logs may have been more easily managed if not for the current which, although mild, applied a lateral force along the length of each log. Onak, being broad and muscular with a low center of gravity, had no real difficulty selecting a log and following Harley.
“That’s it,” Harley said to Onak, dragging his log up and onto the shore. “Keep them an arm’s length apart. A little further. That’s good.” The two men left their logs lying parallel to each other, with each log half on dry land and half in water.
On his way back into the river, Harley turned to the Seeker, “John, get Ellie harnessed and ready.”
While John harnessed his horse, Onak selected and guided deck logs to the shore where Harley and Anders picked them up and arranged them in parallel like railroad tracks extending from river to portage. Six logs in all, making for a combined track length of approximately forty-five feet. The men stacked the remaining twenty-four deck logs aside to get them out of the way, not in the grass but on a rocky flat alongside the river.
Going back into the river, the four men selected six of the intermediate logs, which, at approx 255 pounds each, were only a little heavier than the deck logs due to the difference in wood density between yellow birch and balsam poplar. Harley handed a coil of rope to John and another to Onak. “Run your anchors about three paces apart.”
While Harley and Anders did their best to keep the six logs floating side-by-side and parallel to the shore, John and Onak anchored their ropes to trees and returned with the loose ends in hand. John whipped his rope, flinging it up and over the row of logs. He then reversed direction, feeding the rope under the ends of the logs while continuing back towards shore. In effect, he lassoed the logs. Onak did the same on the opposite end. Harley and Anders then moved to the ends while John and Onak moved several feet towards the center. With their ropes in hand, John and Onak placed their feet against the logs and pulled with upper body strength while pushing against the logs with leg strength. Harley and Anders helped at the ends, and, exerting no small effort, the four men worked to draw the five logs into a bundle that was two high and three wide.
Straining, growling, and even laughing, they made progress using the modern technology of their day—that of levers, fulcrums, pulleys, and cantilevers. While John and Onak held their ropes tight, Harley and Anders bound the logs at their ends. John then fetched Ellie and positioned her between the hardwood deck logs that had been laid out like railroad tracks. Along with her pulling collar, she wore her packsaddle frame without packs. Instead of the packs, the U-shaped puppy pen lay draped over the frame. The wicker pen impaired visual communication, but, being as it was too awkward for humans to carry, it was the best method of transport, and it was better done in the light of day than at night. From Ellie’s pulling collar and harness, John ran a pair of choker lines via an ‘evener’ to the floating bundle of logs while Harley and Anders fetched a set of hardwood rollers that had been precut at Montreal Lake. Each roller, of which there were six, measured five feet in length and four inches in diameter. They were straight as nature could produce—sought out by the extraordinary capability of the human eye, able to detect minute irregularities in the trueness of an arrow shaft, for example, or a 20th century cue stick, the square of a door frame, the cut of a stone block, or a wall of blocks—a natural human ability indispensable in the 31st century.
“Here comes our help,” said Harley, catching sight of Julian, Cody, and Rowe.
John handed Ellie’s lead rope to Cody, “Once we’ve put the rollers in place, we’ll tell you how many steps to take. Do not allow her to move until we give you the go-ahead!”
Harley stood a roller on its end before Julian and Rowe, “Julian, you’ll work from the left side. Rowe, you’ll work from the right. When you place the rollers on the tracks, make sure they are square to the tracks with equal lengths extending on either end. After you place a roller at the front of the load, retrieve the next roller that comes out at the back. Whenever one of you is placing a roller, the other should be retrieving a roller…then vice versa. And because we don’t want anyone to lose their hand…be careful!”
Harley, Anders, Onak, and John then took their places in the water—two men on either side of the twelve-hundred-pound bundle—Harley and John on the left side, Anders and Onak on the right. The configuration of the bundle, having three logs on the bottom tier and only two logs on the top, helped maintain stabilization while the men guided it.
“Julian,” said Harley, “you go first.” He then watched as the young man forced a roller log underwater, partially feeling his way to set it in place. “Do you have it in place?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Julian replied.
“You don’t have your hand in there…do you?”
“No, I’m good.”
Harley then looked ahead, craning in an effort to see around the giant, “Are you ready, Cody?”
“Ready when you are.”
“Okay then, take her a step forward. That’s it. Alright…two more steps. That good. Hold her right there.”
“Okay, Rowe, your turn.”
Harley kept an extra-careful eye on Rowe, as she was only thirteen years of age, old enough to work, but with little experience in moving heavy loads.
Like a boxcar on rails, the bundle of logs slowly came out of the water and onto land. The giant had little difficulty pulling the weight due to the substantial reduction of friction thanks to the rollers that rolled on the tracks. John took two of the rafting poles and put them on the bundled logs, sliding them in under the ropes in the groove between the top two. The poles would be used as levers should the need arise to square the load on the tracks.
“Okay, Cody,” said Harley, seeing they were entirely on the last set of tracks, “hold her steady.”
With the payload at rest, Julian and Rowe went to the front where they cleared away the occasional dead branch, stone, or a low limb to tie out of the way. There wasn’t much due to the nature of the place. They did not toss limbs and stones aside haphazardly, but rather, they set items aside so that the trail might later be put back as it had been. Meanwhile, Harley, Onak, John, and Anders retrieved the pair of deck logs directly behind. Two men to each log, they carried them to the front where Julian and Rowe had cleared the way, and there they laid the logs down in parallel to form the next length of track. They then returned to their posts. The giant pulled, and the rollers were rotated while the four men, two on either side, kept the bundle centered over the tracks. And so they went, taking the tracks from behind and placing them in front, rotating the rollers from back to front—a fairly smooth process thanks in large part to the gentle lay of the land and the great strength of the giant, as well as a bit of pre-planning, like the bevels the men had cut in the ends of the logs when building the raft.
While they worked, Jessie and Mia came to portage the birch bark canoes—first one and then the other. By 7 pm, the heavy moving crew arrived at the lake where a large supper waited.
While Harley ate like a horse, Jessie took a seat beside him, “Laureal and I will be your torchbearers for the next load.” The implication being that, while it was not yet dark, darkness would fall during the next work shift.
“Grandma said I have to be in bed after this next load,” Laureal put in.
John looked up from his plate, “We don’t want our ‘Little Bear’ getting tired out.”
“Our ‘Little Bear’ can sleep anytime he wants,” Laureal replied. Then, turning to her mother, she cast a complaining eye, “I sat in the dugout all day.”
Both Jessie and Emma knew that, while it was true that Laureal had ridden in the canoe all day, she had also taken part in cooking breakfast, breaking camp, portaging loads, and making camp. She, unlike the others who felt naturally tired, experienced a potent cocktail of hormones—enabled, in no small part by the art of living—made her experience one of increased energy. This would not be the case throughout her pregnancy, particularly towards the end, but presently, she was on a natural high—
“Your blood is stirred with the miracle of new life,” said her grandmother.
“We know what you’re feeling,” Jessie added. “I felt it when carrying you, and Mom felt it when carrying me.”
“What about me, Mom?” asked Cody.
“What about you, Cody?”
“Did you feel it while carrying me?”
“Yes, of course I did,” laughingly.
“What’s so funny?”
“You were quite a character.”
“I can testify to that!” Emma exclaimed. “Out he popped, and the next thing we know, he can’t be found for crawling all over the place!”
Among the women, laughter went round the fire.
Rowe turned to Mia, “Did you feel it?”
“Mia had a double dose of it!” cried Emma, still laughing.
“Oh, I don’t know about a double dose,” smiling fondly at young Rowe, “but yes, I felt it.”
Noah turned to Cody, “I came right out, but Sophie didn’t want to.”
Cody scoffed, “No one can remember that far back!”
“I’m not sure about that,” Emma interjected. “Many summers back, a story was going around the hunting camps about a three-year-old who, although limited by age, tried to explain a basic sensation she experienced inside her mother. Whenever she went into their tent, she would say, ‘Siss-SAW, sis-SAW, sis-SAW.’ At first her mother and father couldn’t understand what their child was trying to convey. They asked if she was saying, ‘sister.’ She shook her little head, ‘Siss-SAW, sis-SAW, sis-SAW.’ When at last they asked where she learned the sound, she replied, ‘When I lived in mommy’s heart.’”
Of course, Emma could not know if the story was true. Neither could she know that 21st century science had shown that an individual’s foundation for language begins in the womb by listening to the voice of their mother. Researchers had also discovered that twins in the womb displayed a propensity for social interaction, ‘playing’ and ‘fighting’ with one another, touching and stroking, kicking and punching. Science has also discovered that by the time a child reaches age seven, most early life memories either disappear or become too deeply stored to be accessed as the brain undergoes its most rapid stage of development, a process that could accurately be described as a major overhaul. The Matriarch had no access to such research, at least not at present. She did know, however, that a new family member was present with them at the campfire and, at a highly foundational level, listening and learning through her granddaughter’s experience.
Having finished supper, the men parked the five logs brought from the river. They did not build a water corral for fear that a storm might raise large waves and wash everything away. Instead, they left the logs parallel to the shore where they could be rolled into the lake. The four deck logs that had served as track rails were also stacked above the shore. The two rafting poles, along with the puppy pen, were left there as well.
The sun, low but not yet setting, cast its glow over the lake as the moving crew prepared to depart camp. Shadows filled the surrounding forest, the first fireflies lit their tiny lanterns, and the tree frogs tuned their voices for the evening concert. Mosquitoes sharpened their stingers, and the humans countered by throwing sweet grass on the campfire and pine sap on hot rocks. The moving crew put on an extra layer of repellent, some of which was without color, some tinted black with charcoal, and some red with ocher. The men and women, although pressed for time, combined the colors in simple artistic designs while applying the repellent, and none decorated themselves more so than Cody and Rowe, who, at present, retrieved Ellie from a carpet of grass along the shore.
John picked up one of the six roller logs and placed it over his shoulder like a lumberjack. On his other shoulder, a bow and quiver. Coming before him, Laureal had an unlit torch in one hand and, leaning into him with an ornery smile, she slid her fingers slowly across the muscles of his broad chest—
“I’m going to light up your world.”
As they started up the trail, Emma called out to them, “Be careful in the dark.”
“Will do,” Harley replied, turning to walk backward in fading light.
Reaching the river, the crew decided to take the dugout canoe next. The craft had a large bolus carved into its bow, specifically as an anchor point for both mooring and towing. The craft also had a flat bottom which not only improved its draft in shallow water but also made a stable platform for transport on rollers. It was a heavy load at 2,000 pounds, plus several remaining bags of gear placed inside, along with two rafting poles. It required an extra set of tracks due to its length. Still, the rail-and-roller system reduced drag so much that Ellie had little difficulty pulling it.
The torches were lit as the moving crew proceeded through the elongated hollow of the portage. It helped that the trail had already been cleared. It also helped that the torches were loaded with pine sap, a scent that repelled mosquitoes.
At the front, Jessie lit the way. At the rear, Laureal lit the area around the canoe both for the rotation of rollers and so the men could see to keep the craft centered over the tracks. If the canoe started off center and could not easily be moved back into place, the rafting poles were used to lever it back to center.
Holding her spear like a staff in one hand, a flaming torch in the other, Jessie looked into the hollow before them. Surrounded by dark forest, it seemed a natural tunnel, filled with lightning bugs by the thousands, flashing from grassy floor to highest bough. Some flashed slowly, others flashed fast, and others yet left tracer trails like magic scripts, glowing brightly before vanishing from sight. Perhaps, in a secret language all their own, the fireflies were saying, “Come on in, this is a perfect place to find a mate!” Meanwhile, the tree frogs, of which fifteen species lived in boreal forests around the world, sang their hearts out. Their crazed pitch, along with the tracer trails here-there-and-everywhere, was almost too much for the senses prior to natural habituation, after which one might scarcely notice, and for a good reason, being that predatory eyes might be watching.
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