Wabi

THE MOUNTAIN SLOPE BELOW US was strewn with stones of all sizes. I studied that slope, trying to pick out the best path for us to get through the jumble of rocks to the valley below.

I shook my head. It would not be easy. More than one trail led down from the mountaintop and it seemed as if some of those trails were dead ends. While in some spots there were narrow spaces between them that I thought we could squeeze through, in others big boulders had rolled together, blocking the way. Not only that, in the open places the small broken stones looked as if they would slip and slide underfoot. That would make it hard for us to move down quickly across them.

I lifted my hand to shade my eyes. You must stay alert if you wish to stay alive. Had I seen something in the air at the far end of the valley? I had. Something was moving across the low sky. It was like a cloud that kept changing shape and getting larger.

Hah-hoo. It was not a cloud at all. It was a flock of birds, coming straight this way. That was not good. They were flying swiftly. They would reach this spot where we stood, fully exposed, long before we could make our way down to the forest at the foot of the slope. That was worse. But worst of all was that I could now make out what kind of birds were in that flock. Crows. Big crows.

Crows. Any owl will tell you that being caught by a mob of crows during the daytime is a terrible thing. They made me so uneasy that my first thought was to spread my wings and soar back down into my home valley where I knew the safe roosting places. I lifted my arms to open my wings. Oops.

I looked at my arms and hands. Useless for flying. Then I smiled. But very useful for certain other things.

I spotted a possibility, and went quickly down the slope with Malsumsis by my side. The cloud of crows was getting closer. I could now hear what they were calling back and forth to one another in self-satisfied tones.

The place I’d seen turned out to be even better than I had hoped. Three big flat rocks had slid together in such a way that they made a shape like one of the rough, bark shelters I had seen human beings make. Agwanbitigan, they called it. A lean-to. But this one was made of stone. There was plenty of room inside for me to stand up and for Malsumsis to crouch down by my side.

One of the worst things about being mobbed by crows is the way they circle and dive around you like an evil, black-feathered whirlwind. No way could they circle us here. There was stone over our heads and stone at our backs. They could still see us as they approached. The open side of our lean-to faced out over the valley. But I was glad of that. I was ready and waiting for them.

The flock was so close now that the harsh cries hurt my ears. These were the biggest crows I’d ever seen. Their wings were as wide as those of turkey buzzards. Their glistening black beaks were long and sharp.

There were perhaps fifty of them. They were so large that I thought they must be the monster birds that served as spies for evil beings in Great-grandmother’s stories. But seeing just how large they were made me feel happy.

“Bigger crows,” I said to Malsumsis, whose growl was now a deep continuous rumbling in his throat, “make better targets.”

Did I forget to mention another of the fine features of our shelter? Close by it were countless stones. Some were round as fists, some were flat and sharp edged, but many of them were the perfect size. I ran about, gathering a pile of them.

The crows were close enough now for me to see the hungry glint in their dark eyes. They were so close that they were starting to fold their wings to dive in at us. Close enough to throw my first stone.

Alas, my aim was not good. I completely missed the crow I’d been aiming at. However, the fact that my stone struck the crow next to it was some consolation.

My next stone hit the bird I aimed for. So did my third stone. My fourth stone, larger, rounder, and more sharp edged, was hurled in a side-arm motion. It took out not one crow but three as it spun through the rapidly diminishing flock.

They squawked at me in protest as they flew back and forth, getting ready to swirl in for another attack.

Not in this lifetime, I thought, gathering up another armful of stones. It worked well that way, using one arm and hand to hold the stones cradled against my chest and doing all of my throwing with the other arm.

As I straightened up, one crow that was braver or more foolish than the others came swooping straight at my face. I did not have time to throw the stone I was holding. I turned my head to protect my eyes. But the crow did not reach me.

Malsumsis, my protector, dropped back down onto all fours. The body of the huge crow he had just snatched out of the air hung from his jaws. He shook it one more time and dropped it.

I would have patted him on the head, but I was too busy throwing stones again to do so. Those giant crows were determined. By the time their attack was done, the slope in front of our lean-to was covered with black-winged bodies. There were cuts on both of my arms and a slash across my cheek. Malsumsis was bleeding from more than one place on his body. But neither of us was badly hurt.

In the sky above the valley were the shapes of four surviving crows, growing smaller as they winged their way back to wherever they came from. Perhaps they could not hear me, but I still shouted out my message just the same.