5. DUANE MAKES AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY IN A CAVE NOT HIS OWN
NOT TOO MANY DAYS after, as the temperature dropped lower and lower, the first snowfalls arrived in the Very, Very Far North. The light dusting of white upon the landscape brought out a particular beauty that bewitched Duane like no other season did. An adventure hike was in order, without a doubt, so he left his cave to take in the sights.
Duane could have gone in any direction. Why he chose to head toward the river, and then to cross it, could not be explained as anything more than a whim on his part. But why Duane chose to hike farther still, beyond his usual territory, weaving his way between mountains he’d never explored before, speaks to an understanding of the world that defies rational explanation. As your narrator, I suggest to you that perhaps there are other threads that involve themselves in our daily affairs, connecting us. Invisible as these threads may be, they still hum with energy if, like Duane, we are sensitive to their pulse. How else to explain why the polar bear found himself approaching a cave? A cave quite similar to the one he calls his home, but this cave was currently in the possession of Major Puff.
Before the puffin was seen by Duane, he was first heard. “Left, right, left, right, come on, Major, get your feet up higher and keep your mind off dinner!” The voice was unmistakable. But why was it coming from down here, in this isolated location, when it should be speaking from up there, in the sky, southbound en route to a much warmer place? “Dastardly unpleasant, cruel and unusual, so cold and empty, not fair, I say. Could be in my cozy burrow but for those traitors leading me on,” the voice continued mumbling. “Snap out of it, Major! You’re a Puff! Don’t let the Puff name be sullied with self-pity. Keep marching! Left, right, left, right, that’s more like it.”
Duane reached the cave’s mouth, stood to one side, and cautiously peered in. He gasped. Major Puff did not look good. Aside from the clearly subpar marching, his feathers were matted, his wings were drooping, his body was undernourished, his haggard face suggested a puffin lacking in sleep—but it was Major Puff’s eyes that frightened Duane the most. They kept shifting in expression from terror to hurt to anger to suspicion. The thread that connected the concerned polar bear to the poor, disheveled puffin tugged at Duane’s heart.
Duane stepped forward and made himself known. “Major Puff?” he said gently.
The puffin immediately threw himself into an aggressive stance, which for a puffin with military prowess means stepping back defensively. “Who goes there?” he demanded.
“Me. Your friend Duane.”
Despite the warm smile that accompanied Duane’s introduction, Major Puff would have none of it. “Pah!” he spat. “I have no friends.”
The rebuke stung. But as Duane was convinced that Major Puff was not well, he chose to ignore the comment and instead stepped a bit closer. “Why are you here, all alone in this cave? Shouldn’t you be on your migration?”
The question infuriated the Major. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’m sure all of my so-called friends would like me flying off on my migration, eh?” The puffin demonstrated his defiance by assertively stepping back again.
Duane was confused, not least of all because of a puffin’s tactic of running away whenever he was showing force. What Major Puff was saying confused Duane even more. “Why, yes, of course we would like that.” He took another step deeper into the cave and closer to the Major. Thump! Duane banged his head against the cave’s ceiling, which apparently was not as high as at the opening. To compensate, he crouched lower and tried to ignore the sharp pain as he spoke on. “Shouldn’t we support you, if it makes you happy?”
Major Puff was of two minds. On face value, Duane’s answer was both caring and encouraging, but likely this was yet another cunning trick. He stepped back again. “These trips—which are not vacations—are very dangerous! They can be fatal! Is this your idea of support? Letting me go forth on such a mission?”
Duane could not understand why Major Puff was so agitated. He wanted to calm his friend. Still crouching, he stepped closer. Thump! Again, he banged his head against the hard, rocky ceiling of the cave, which apparently continued to taper lower and narrower the farther he ventured in. This time, Duane went down on his four legs. “Major Puff, I believe that I speak for all your friends when I say—ow…”
“Ow?” asked Major Puff.
“No, sorry, not ow,” Duane explained, rubbing his sore head. “What I meant was… we would say that we’d prefer if you didn’t go on your migrations that are not in the least holidays. We know they are dangerous. We’ve always known that, and it would sadden us if you were to get hurt. But we also know that it’s your choice to make, not ours.”
Major Puff stepped back, this time not out of anger, but because he was overwhelmed by Duane’s explanation, which in his heart he knew was true and sincere. In doing so, he found himself up against the back end of the cave, which he leaned on to steady his cold, tired body. “You really mean that?”
“Of course,” replied Duane.
“I don’t know what got into me. I was led to believe that you were all colluding with the great black-backed gulls.”
Duane, still upon all fours, with a head that was throbbing, wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Wait, who would tell you such a thing?”
“Some small, unpleasant creature. I did not know him, but he seemed to know me all too well. I daresay he was convincing enough for me to leave the burrow angrily before any of you arrived for my send-off.”
Duane had his suspicions of who that unpleasant creature might be, but even so, it still didn’t explain everything. “But why are you hiding away in this cold—and I will now add, very cramped—cave, Major Puff?”
The puffin stared at Duane in great distress. He tried to fight through it, stood up straight, and declared, “I don’t know!” Then just as quickly, his wings drooped down again, his head bent, and he spoke through tears long held in. “I didn’t want to fly south. I enjoy the burrow. It’s cozy and warm and I believe that I am well-liked, which is a new and pleasant experience, and… and… to be quite honest, I find that migrations are very taxing on the nerves.”
Major Puff let out a huge sigh. The burden of his secret was cast off. He felt lighter but also embarrassed by his confession. Duane, however, felt nothing but sympathy and admiration for him, as well as an unrelated headache. When their eyes met, he gave Major Puff a small nod of understanding. A moment of silence passed in which the puffin regained his composure. Without any bluster, he said to Duane, “I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to keep this between ourselves.”
Balancing himself on just three legs, Duane leaned forward to extend to the puffin his paw in friendship. “I give you my word, Major Puff, that nothing will leave this cave.” Thump! “Ow!” The third whack to his head dropped Duane onto his belly with his snout beside the puffin.
You would be forgiven for thinking that the natural conclusion to this story is that Duane and Major Puff would leave the very cramped cave together and return to their respective homes. It certainly was what Duane and Major Puff were thinking. In fact, Major Puff said exactly that. “At this point, I think the proper thing to do is inform Twitch that I shall be remaining through the winter.”
Duane, with his belly still flat upon the cave floor, and believing he’d received his fair share of thumps for the year, smiled feebly and said, “Agreed.”
Then nothing happened.
And then nothing continued to happen.
Major Puff cleared his throat. “Ahem. Problem, Duane?”
“I’m not sure,” said the polar bear.
“You’re not sure?” asked the Major.
Duane scrunched up his face and grunted as if he were trying to do a very difficult task. When he eventually stopped, he said, “I’m sure now. There is a problem. I’m stuck.”
“You’re stuck?” confirmed the Major, for the sake of clarity.
“Completely stuck,” Duane clarified further. “It really is a very cramped cave.”
“Indeed,” replied the puffin, who was standing between a rock face and a polar bear’s snout. “Suggestions?”
Duane’s head hurt… a lot. Bits of the cramped cave were wedged uncomfortably into his waistline. Dare I say that in his immobile condition, his derrière was left exposed to the open side of the cold cave. Taken in total, the whole affair was tiring Duane out. “I think it’s a wait-and-see situation, Major.”
“Oh, how so?”
“I need to lose a little weight in order to thin myself enough to back up. So I suggest… YAWN!… I suggest… a long nap for all. Mmmm-ah-phu-zzzzzz-snort.”
And that was that for the polar bear. Like Twitch after a marathon baking spree, Duane was out cold. Major Puff applied a few gentle pokes to Duane’s snout, but it was clear that he was beyond reawakening and there was little the puffin could do to remedy it. So Major Puff took stock of his situation. Yes, the cave was considerably smaller than before. On the positive side, there was still air circulation, and with Duane now blocking most of the entrance, the cave was also insulated and warm. “Well, Major,” he said to himself, “we are under siege, as it were. Pinned down with nowhere to go. As a brave puffin warrior, our options have been reduced to one.” And so, Major Puff squatted down beside Duane and promptly joined him in an extended nap.
Three days later, Duane awoke feeling much, much better and slightly thinner, enough so that he could push backward and free himself from the cave’s grip. Major Puff took a leadership role and barked orders and encouragement during it all. “That’s right, lad! Keep wiggling! Don’t give up! Stiff upper lip, loose hips, and so on!”
The fresh winter air that greeted them outside was cold and invigorating. They both gave a shake to loosen the accumulated cobwebs in their heads, after which Duane’s stomach wasted no time in getting his attention to point out that there were at least ten to twenty meals unaccounted for. Duane began walking back home, assuming that Major Puff was of the same mind. When he glanced to his side, he discovered it was not so. The puffin had not followed in his direction.
Duane turned. “Are you not going back to your burrow?” he asked.
Major Puff was still in the process of deciding. Unlike Duane, he did not sleep right through the previous days. At several points he awoke and had time to ponder things. He knew now that he didn’t have to migrate if he didn’t wish to, and he acknowledged to himself truthfully that he found migrations quite frightening. What didn’t sit well with him was the idea that his fears were in control of his life. The puffin didn’t want to not do something only because he was afraid of it. He was a Puff. He had standards to uphold.
“Major?” asked Duane again, but this time in a tone of playful suspicion. “Are you thinking of going on your migration after all?”
Major Puff gave Duane a confident smile, filled with youth and vigor. “Maybe once more for the thrill of it,” he replied with a wink. “See you in the spring, lad!” And with that, the puffin launched himself into the sky and flew away.
Despite his stomach complaining impatiently, Duane watched his friend fly higher and higher until he disappeared among the clouds. Duane silently wished him a safe journey, admiring the puffin’s courage and his self-pride. There was no doubt that he would honor Major Puff’s wishes and not tell anyone about their encounter. He would allow the Major to explain about what had happened the day of his departure when he was ready to do so, after he returned.