Jay Gee Heath - Tigers Adventures in the Everglades Volume Three: As told by T. F. Gato

Also By Jay Gee Heath

Right Talents

Right Skills

Right Dreams

Right Response

Right Target

Tigers Adventures in the Everglades

Tigers Adventures in the Everglades Volume Two

Truck Boat Crash

Were going to town early, the sun barely rising. Quick trip to the vet who is thirty-eight miles down the main park road from Flamingo where we live permanently now. Were not going back to Boston, because we married Kevlar. I call him Kevlar, everyone else calls him Kev.

About the only time I ride in the car anymore is to go to the vet, a lady doctor who always gives me treats. Very nice treats. Boston has advanced first aid and treats my cuts and owies, but she says only the vet can do vaccinations. Im pretty sure that isnt the same as vacation.

You always have fun at the vet, Boston says. She feeds you good snacks. And I want you to behave today. No terrifying her helper, leave him alone.

If hes there, I threaten him. Attack is instinctive and I dont think I can control it . Besides, its so easy.

Okay? she reaches up and nudges me with her hand. Be on your best behavior.

Well, I dont have a best behavior. Besides its boring .

Im riding behind Bostons neck on the seatback where I can look out all the windows. Theres always something to see. And, actually, this is the safest place for me. Boston tends to stop without warning and if Im not braced behind her neck I get tossed forward.

Well pull into Nine Mile Pond and see if theres any bird life. She slows and turns off the main park road. The world ends a few feet beyond the shoreline in a fogbank over the flat, smooth, water. A blurred red smudge behind the fog is the rising sun giving the world an eerie purplish glow. Its almost chilly.

Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. Thats an old saying from up north. Means the weather will turn bad. But down here, I think it means just the opposite, plus good fishing.

A shadowy shape glides through the fog just above the water and disappears off to the side.

Hunh ? I jump down on the seat and put my front feet on the dash keeping my eyes on the spot where it vanished. A few moments later, it comes back, closer now, darker. But still shadowy. Only a blurred shape gliding over the surface of the purple water a few feet from the shoreline. It reaches the other end of the pond and disappears into the fog.

What was that? Boston whispers, leaning forward. Spooky.

The shadow breaks out of the fogbank. A bird, floating above the water. Coasting across the surface, its wings spread to the side, still and unmoving. Floating in a soft hazy purple. Silent. Riding on the tip of its lower beak, carving a V-shape through the water.

It reaches the end and soars up and around, comes back for another sweep in front of us.

Whoa. Picture. Need a picture, Boston whispers again though Im sure it cant hear us. She raises her cell phone, points it toward the silent bird as it floats past leaving a long thin wake in the water.

Skimmer, black skimmer, she murmurs.

The bird wheels up into the fog.

I saw this picture on the cover of an Audubon magazine a long time ago. Purple skimmer floating above the water, she says, I thought it was fake. The purple color was so unnatural. But there it is.

We wait, but the bird doesnt return.

Boston settles back in her seat. Wow. What a great morning. The skimmer is a black tern, Tiger. Its chin, front, belly, and under its wings, is white. Top of head, wings, and back are black. Has orange where its beak meets its head. The lower beak is much longer than the top beak, so the bird can scoop food off the surface of the water. The top beak, mandible, snaps shut when it feels a fish.

Doesnt sound like fun to me. Looks like a tough way to get a meal. And I didnt see it catch anything.

Skimmers generally feed at night, well dusk, when the air and water are calm and still. This fog means calm and tranquil, perfect for skimmers. She nods to herself and continues. The skimmer is slick when flying, but hes a weird looking bird on the ground. His beak is so large he looks ungainly. Always seems to me hes going to tumble forward and fall beak first on his face. She checks her cell. We got great video, Tiger. All in violet.

We drive down the road a couple of miles at an easy pace, but she suddenly slams on the brakes and tosses me hard against the back of her neck. I scrabble to hang on with my claws.

Yup. Thats why I ride on the seatback behind her head. I dont like being tossed through the windshield or into the footwell when she stops short. Its undignified.

Stopping like that generally means shes spotted wildlife, but I dont see any.

Wow. Look at that. Tiger do you see that?

No deer, no wild cats, no alligators. I twist all around to check the other windows. Nothing. Then I look in the direction her chin is pointing.

Hmm .

Not wildlife. A pickup truck, nose first down in the water in the culvert, standing almost vertical, the rear end sticking up in the air. Tall sawgrass surrounds it. An empty boat trailer is jackknifed behind it, still connected to the hitch on the truck, the back wheels buried in the dirt on the sloping mowed grass bank. The boat? Thats wedged up in some trees in a small hammock just past the truck. The bow, (Boston calls the front of a boat the bow), pointing in the air.

Look at that boat, just hanging about three feet off the ground in the buttonwood hammock. How did that happen? Truck goes off the road, headfirst in the water flipping the boat off and into the trees and jackknifing the boat trailer. Like dominoes? Boston looks all around. There should be Rangers all over the place here. The wrecks been here awhile She shakes her head. Morning patrol should have reported it. Maybe theyre done here.

She pulls out her cell. No bars. She steps out of the car. Stay here, Tiger, she says, holding her phone up in the air while walking toward the wreck.

Huh. Like Im going somewhere with the doors closed and the windows up. Not sure Id want to be on my own out here in the swamps even if I could get out . Hmm. One window is partway down.

Got one bar. She takes a few more steps. Another bar. Ill try. She pushes some buttons. Doug? Doug is at the entrance gate. Hes dispatch for the park.

Im about at The Well on the main park road and theres a boat and truck wrecked here. Do you know about them? She waits a moment. No one reported it? she says. Um, A dark red pickup, old GMC. I cant see the tag, its pointing at the sky. Id have to climb up into the truck to read it. Its towing a trailer, but that tag is buried in the dirt. The boat is in the trees. Its Florida registration number is FL 23456X.

Watching her footing, she pauses near the truck. I recognize the rig, it belongs to Double E. I dont see him. Ill look around. I can see a turtle, a loggerhead, on the boat. Ill send you a picture. She takes pictures with her cell.

She left me alone. Alone. In a hot car. Well, sure, she left the a/c on, but still. She gets to walk around . Hmmm. She did leave the window open a little. That must mean she doesnt mind if I get out.

Its not open enough to just jump out. Hmph. I stand and grab hold of the top of the window to climb out, but when I put my full weight on it, it comes down just enough that I can scoot out and drop to the ground. And look around.

Yes. Now what? Guess Ill follow her. She shouldnt wander out here by herself. She needs me to keep an eye on her. And there may be a treat. I start toward her across the grass.

Ahhh. What ? Im standing in cold, wet, skinny water and sinking into some spongey stuff. Green spongy grass. Wet, cold, green, spongy.