A Tan And Sandy Silence

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In northern Manitoba a man saw a great bald eagle- hanging from its neck, teeth locked in skin and feathers, the bleached skull of a weasel.

by Jim Harrison

(From ‘A Year’s Changes’)

One

ON THE most beautiful day any April could be asked to come up with, I was kneeling in eight inches of oily water in the cramped bilge of Meyer’s squatty little cabin cruiser, the John Maynard Keynes, taking his automatic bilge pump apart for the third time in an hour.

The socket wrench slipped, and I skinned yet another knuckle. Meyer stood blocking out a sizable piece of the deep blue sky. He stared down into the bilge and said, “Very inventive and very fluent. Nice mental images, Travis. Imagine one frail little bilge pump performing such an extraordinary act upon itself! But you began to repeat yourself toward the end.”

“Would you like to crawl down in here and-” He backed up a hasty half step. “I couldn’t deprive you of the pleasure. You said you could fix it. Go ahead.”

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