Dawn wasn’t yet visible when Jess headed out in the old rattling Scout, following the route to Beavertail Falls but then veering off on a dirt side road about 20 miles early. Blackness was giving way to dawn as the car emerged from the woods into a clearing. The rustling in the backseat told him that he was here, for his senses, although more acute than normal, were nothing like those of the bird or dogs. He parked on the edge between clearing and open pasture. It took several minutes to absorb the day’s beginning, to take in the purplish tinge coloring the eastern horizon, to relish the imminence of morning. But the anticipation of the adventure soon took hold, not to mention the dogs’ growing impatience with his delay. He reached for the equipment – the glove, the Tupperware container of chicken, prepared by Sarah after dinner last night, the satchel that he slung over his left shoulder.
All that was left was Tempest. The falcon’s agitation was that of a runner readying for the blocks, a Derby contender moving into the starting gate. Her feet moved up and down on the perch like a marine recruit marching to an inner cadence, rocking her body back and forth and banging her feathers against the sides of the crate. The mewling sound coming from her mouth was barely audible. She knew what was coming and she was ready.
He reached into the box carefully and grabbed the leather jesses dangling from her legs. She obliged quickly by hopping onto the right glove, an expert now at the drill. They moved together to the head of the field. Sam and Maude were busy poking their noses into the tufts of long grass, sniffing at every mole and vole they could discover, and longing for the bigger prey that was soon to come. His imperious whistle brought them in, and they readied themselves for instructions.
On Jess’ curt command, the two pointers moved into the field, ears cocked, tails still, their eyes scouring the edges for movement. He couldn’t see what they saw, which frustrated him on one level, but exhilarated him on another. It was up to them now. He removed Tempest’s hood so she too could watch them and wait for her signal. Her turn would come. Then there was a slight swaying of the tall weeds to the left and the dogs stood stock still, tails rigid as steel rods, fur raised on their backs, signaling to their master that it was time. He let the falcon go, watched as she flew straight up with hardly a wing beat until she was perfectly positioned, her high-pitched cry piercing the air.
Then came the dive, that powerful descent, for of course the element of surprise, even more than her speed, was her ally. She hit the rabbit with the full force of her body, digging her talons into the softest part of his neck and bringing down her beak for the kill. But then came his whistle, that sharp decisive directive, and her decision was at hand – an easy meal of chicken and security or the hard work of tearing apart her prey and knowing she must always search for more. He watched her hesitate for a second and wondered if this would be the time when she chose her freedom over him. He breathed a slight sigh of relief when she looked back at him and made her choice. The cry came again as she flew towards him, slower this time, without the frenzy fueled by adrenaline but instead with a contented resignation. He smiled as he fed her the chunks of raw flesh, a reward for making the right decision.
He respected the bird for taking time with it, for weighing the benefits of flying free to being shackled and dependent on him, for wondering if independence was worth taking risks for.
He wasn’t sure at that moment, as he took time to admire the next stage of dawn — the pinkish orange of morning that revealed the landscape in its full glory as he watched his dogs wait for further command, which animal he would rather be. For isn’t this the choice that he needed to make? The pointers were loyal to a fault, dependent on their master for all of their needs, only taking a few minutes of exploring to satisfy their instincts, but then willingly forsaking them for what they had been taught. But falcons were between the worlds, part wildness and part tractability. Isn’t this what had always drawn him to Tempest and others of her kind?
He replaced her hood after she was done with her chicken breakfast and walked to the end of the field to retrieve her kill, Tempest riding on his glove, Sam and Maude trailing behind. The four of them then returned to the Scout, rabbit in the bag and dogs continuing to pursue their own dreams in the grass. His breakfast would be waiting, but the twins were probably off to school already. It must have been close to 8, judging by the sun’s position. It would be quiet in the house as Sarah readied herself to go to work. He could dress the rabbit in peace and looked forward to this time to reflect on the hunt, on the thrill of it all, on the freedom of seeing the day in its beginning, at its most raw. He could replay the flight of the falcon, as she rose to her proper place in the sky and then stooped to propel towards her quarry far below. But inevitably he knew he must return to the more mundane, the work that lay before him, the demands of the lab and home, the commands that were no longer his but to which he must acquiesce, just like the dogs out on the field.
Soon, Jess was driving the Scout onto the overgrown dirt drive, parking next to the front steps leading to the porch. It would be easier to unload the bird and equipment here. Sarah’s Honda was in its usual spot under the beech tree, town soccer stickers and beach permits visible on her rear bumper. The familiarity of home melded with the uncertainty he always felt when he looked at the stickers and the reality of suburban life they conveyed. The minutes were ticking by too fast for him to dwell on these thoughts so he began to unpack quickly.
He carried Tempest up the steps, her talons wrapped around her perch inside the crate, her restless movement anticipating change, even though he kept the hood on her to keep her calm. She flapped her wings and rocked back and forth on her feet until he shifted her onto her permanent perch near the window of the sunroom. Securing her leash, he gently stroked her sleek neck feathers, a just reward for a job well done.
Sarah’s footsteps sounded overhead as she moved from shower to bedroom preparing for work. She hated the sight of the falcon’s kills so he knew to wait until she left before taking the rabbit from the car. Although they never argued about it, she tolerated this strange sport of his with barely concealed disdain, convincing herself that it was one of the remnants of his past self and that, like many others, it would eventually wane or even disappear if she just ignored it. Tempest was another matter, however, for the falcon’s presence in her house demanded her attention. As with the dogs, Sarah knew that the bird was part of the package that was Jess, baggage to be borne if she wanted this relationship to work.
Of course, the kids made it easier, with their fascination about the falcon and their easy adoration of Sam and Maude. Although Sarah would have never consented to let them watch a hunt, she did let them feed Tempest chunks of chicken from time to time and even relented when Jess suggested that feeding the dogs be one of their household chores. But he always felt that forbearance was as far as she could ever go, never fully accepting that falconry was in his soul, an integral part of who he was. Most of the time he was OK with this barrier between them and chalked it up to the price of a relationship.
This morning was different though. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his early hunt had made him more restless than usual. Watching Tempest glide over the field, flanked by the colors of the dawn, had brought back smothered memories that had been niggling at the back of his mind of open skies and possibility.
When Sarah finally came downstairs, dressed in her navy pants suit and heels and looking every bit the part of the executive that she was, he admired her “togetherness”. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, gold hoops flashed in her ears, and her red nails and lipstick matched perfectly.
When she saw Jess standing next to the bird checking the ties, she smiled and said in a tone that spoke more than the words, “Did you have a good time?” Never, did you have any luck? Did Tempest make a kill? What did you bring home? She begged silently not to know about this part of his life, to ask that he not push her further than she could go. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and gathered up her briefcase before heading for the door. “There’s pancakes in the oven. I’ll be home by 6, but can you pick up the boys from practice at 5:30? If you’re too busy, just call Maggie and she can get them when she fetches Johnny.”
“Sure thing,” he answered, half expecting a few other errands to be added to the list, and relieved when she moved through the door. He stood by the window watching her throw her briefcase in the back of the car and settle into the driver’s seat. She checked herself in the rearview before putting the Honda in gear and backing out of the driveway. His body relaxed once alone with the animals, a few hours before him to prepare the rabbit and collect himself before he had to be at the lab.
As he watched her leave, a familiar unease spread through him. He loved Sarah and the boys, he really did, but this world wasn’t his. He didn’t belong here and had known it for a long time. The allure of comfort and predictability had actually brought him here in the first place. He had begun as a visitor, a few sleepovers a week, while keeping his life intact back in his apartment. Then the animals had become a problem. Running back and forth to take care of the dogs, to exercise Tempest, it had been too much. And of course, Sarah couldn’t move in with him; she had the boys to think about. Losing their dad had been hard on them, and she couldn’t have them lose their home on top of that. So, the call had been made. He would move in on a trial basis and bring the animals with him. He knew Sarah was sacrificing a lot to allow this. Of course, he was sacrificing too. From the start, he had missed the simplicity of his life, the blank slate that greeted him every morning, enticing him to write upon it at will without directives and responsibility. With only Tempest and the dogs to worry about, he had made a life for himself, unencumbered by the needs of others, without the guilt of failing someone else.
Things had been different when he had first moved in, almost a year ago now. Sarah had encouraged him to become a member of the family, to think of the boys, if not as his own (she would never go that far), as part of the package that was her. They made a concerted effort to spend time with each other and with the boys, to do family activities, to get to know each other and get used to the others’ habits. He had been alone for too long and had missed sitting around the dinner table hearing about someone else’s day. Sarah worked in an office with people who always provided fodder for funny stories, and the twins were full of tales from school.
Jess was the consummate listener, finding it hard to share entertaining anecdotes about peering through a microscope all day. In the beginning, he tried to talk about his morning excursions with Tempest and the dogs and all the wonders of nature he had seen, but he soon realized that Sarah had no interest and didn’t want him discussing his hunting forays with the boys. He was aware that he was becoming more withdrawn over time.
Sarah, on the other hand, was always thinking ahead and often shared her dreams with him at night as they lay in her king size bed. There was enough space on either side of them to fit four more people, but she loved its luxury. When she went down this road, he felt empty, fearing that she had exposed the bottom of his well of feelings and could see nothing there. He often waited for her to say something, to wonder at his silence, to call him out for his passivity. But she never did. Perhaps she knew that if she gave it a name, it would become real and absorb whatever they had between them. Instead, she would roll over on her side away from him and just say quietly, “It will all work out, Jess. Just takes time.”
If he felt remorse in the morning for his silence, it was mitigated by the anticipation of flying his falcon. Tempest was his link to the West and to the life he had left behind. She represented everything that he missed – the freedom, the horizons, the wildness – but he knew that she missed it too. The problem was that the research facility back home had been less than adequate, and his work was being hamstrung by the lack of equipment and funding. When the Institute called with the job of senior scientist, he couldn’t refuse even as he imagined himself working longer hours, forced to be inside all day, and only hunting in early mornings and on weekends. But the money was great, the prestige might lead to better offers, and after all the grant was only for three years.
He had been in Pennsylvania for two months when he met Sarah at a fund-raising event for the lab. She was the director of the foundation that was supporting his research and that the reason he had come East. Even at their first meeting, there were sparks, but of course it was all business that night. He had to present his past work to the board and convince them that they hadn’t made a mistake bringing this redneck from Idaho to such a prestigious institution. They seemed ready to like him, if not fully trust him, so he knew he only had to appear congenial and non-controversial for them to embrace him. But pride told him he needed to prove himself, not just as an expert scientist but as someone worthy of their financial support.
Although his main focus that night was on not screwing up, he spent much of his talk looking at Sarah who stood at the back of the room with a sly smile on her face. It was as if she could see right through him to the uncultured ranch boy who was playing dress up for the adults. But whatever came out of his mouth was far from play, and the audience was impressed with his new ideas and knowledge of subject. His ability to be articulate seemed to surprise them all, perhaps even himself.
After the talk, Sarah came up and shook his hand. “Congratulations, cowboy, you wowed them. They’ll never let you go back home now; you’re here for keeps.” Her comment sent an odd chill up his neck, but he appreciated her praise and the warmth of her delicate fingers in his. They went out for a drink afterwards, and that was the start of it all. She told him her story – her husband’s battle with cancer, her two kids and their sadness, her picking up the pieces of her life ⸺and he told her a little of his⸺growing up on a ranch, the son of devout Mormons, leaving the church, his love of falconry and fishing and hunting that had filled his spiritual void. They knew right away they were from two different worlds that had collided in some freak accident that night. But they were in the moment, not the future, so it all seemed like it could work out, at least for a while.
Six months later, after Jess moved into Sarah’s house, he immediately felt torn between the domesticity and comfort of having a family around and feeling that there was something missing. He loved the boys; 7-year-old twins with shaggy bangs that almost covered their eyes despite their mom’s attempts to keep them trimmed, and gangly limbs that spoke of speed and agility.
Jess’ love for sports bonded him to them at once, and much of his time, even in the early part of his romance with Sarah, was actually spent in the yard playing soccer with Peter and Ben. Sometimes they would invite their friend Hugh over after school and the four of them would create teams. Of course, they all wanted to be on Jess’ team for it would be the winner, but he was careful to be fair.
For them, the best part of having Jess around was when he gave them roping lessons. He loved their wide-eyed fascination with his skill at throwing a rope and doing tricks with the loops as he flung it into the air. Even though he usually only lassoed the lamppost at the end of the driveway, the twins and Hugh were impressed, especially when they saw for themselves how hard it was to do. One day he even lassoed Sam who had made the mistake of walking through the yard in the middle of the lesson. The nine-year-old pointer stopped abruptly as the rope fell over his head, and he looked back at Jess in confusion, with just a hint of betrayal in his rheumy brown eyes. Jess had made a joke of it but was careful to tell the boys never to do that to a dog lest you injure their dignity.
These sessions with the boys were therapeutic for him. He felt more like himself than when he was inside the house, and Sarah seemed happier with him so let up on some of her sarcasm – or was it only teasing – about his western garb, his taste in music, his eclectic choices in books. It wasn’t that she didn’t admire his intellect — far from it in fact. She knew what a brilliant scientist he was, how much progress he was making in his research, how hard he worked, spending hours in his lab, especially late at night. He said he did his best thinking in the evening so tended to go in late in the day, often not getting home until midnight.
His early mornings were devoted to hunting and flying his falcon, an activity that Sarah couldn’t, or wouldn’t, share with him. Perhaps he should have admitted the truth, that evenings at home had become frustrating for him, and that he could avoid them if he was working. Although some nights he would write reports at home, with Sarah reading or watching TV beside him, paperwork only took up some of his time. He began to feel guilty that he was spending more hours in the lab but had convinced himself that it was because of the work, not because of avoidance.
As Sarah became more used to having Jess around, she began to put more demands on him to run errands, to drive the twins to their activities when she was held up at work, to do chores around the house. Some of these he enjoyed. He loved picking the boys up at soccer and would sometimes arrive early so he could watch part of the game. Their friends had heard about Jess from Peter and Ben so always crowded around him when he showed up at the field. They asked to see his belt buckle which was silver and shaped like a star; they admired his cowboy boots, a defining part of his wardrobe; and most of all they liked to try on his Stetson, even though it was sweat stained and frayed at the edges from overuse. He despaired of having to get a new one since it had taken him so long to break this one in.
Jess didn’t mind doing chores around the house and often initiated the more physical tasks on his own without being asked. He just resented “the list” that Sarah kept presenting to him, which he took as a reminder that he was living in her house. He knew that he was being unfair, that of course he should do his part, but still he stewed about it. Although they never argued about what he would or wouldn’t do, Jess felt that Sarah used silence and an icy tone to indicate her displeasure sometimes. His reaction, although childish he admitted, was to escape, to hop in the Scout with Tempest and the dogs and to go hunting.
Months passed like this, with everything running smoothly on the surface but resentment roiling beneath. Sarah sensed his restlessness and one night even suggested he go back to Idaho for a visit. She understood how displaced he felt at times, trying to live in a world that was so different from the one he had always known. She also made more of an effort to connect with the animals, often feeding Tempest tidbits of leftover meat from dinner, praising the dogs, and letting the boys take them for walks in the neighborhood. Jess knew she was trying and was angry at himself for not being the answer that she needed. They loved each other, that was not the issue, but blending their worlds had proved harder than it should have been.
In February, Sarah had been invited to represent her foundation at a gala event in the next town. She knew it was risky asking Jess to accompany her but after all, they had been living together for nearly a year, and it would have been weird to go alone. He knew he had no choice; to refuse would seem selfish and almost cowardly. He convinced himself that all he had to do was stand by her side and look normal because nobody there would be wanting to talk to him. For most of the evening this was true, until dinner when they were seated at a table with Sarah’s boss Angela and her husband James. When James asked Jess where he was from and then launched into the usual potato jokes, Jess felt himself tense even though by now he should have been used to them.
James had been visibly shocked when Sarah told him that Jess was the senior researcher at the Institute. James was in marketing and aware that he was out-ranked both in education and salary by Jess, a fact he certainly hadn’t considered when he and the reticent potato farmer had started talking. Jess felt sickened by the whole scene and before the dessert arrived asked Sarah if they could leave. Feeling torn between her duty to her job and her loyalty to Jess, resentment brewed inside her. In the car, she said little as he made sardonic comments about the crowd, and especially about Angela and James. It was the first night Sarah and Jess had gone to bed angry, both aware that the gulf that had been growing between them had become dangerously wide.
With spring came an awareness that things had changed, and the uncertainty made Jess nervous. He and Sarah skirted any topics that invited discord, their conversation becoming banal and focused on the boys. The thread that had been tying them to each other was fraying, and both were scared to admit it. Jess’ morning hunts with Tempest and the dogs became longer as did his hours at the lab, and Sarah shared less of her life at work with him. She knew that he was struggling yet was afraid to make it easier for him. Neither of them could have predicted what finally would break the stalemate.
After Jess finished preparing the rabbit for the freezer, he got ready to head into work. Sarah’s words as she left the house⸺If you’re too busy to pick up the twins⸺replayed in his head. Had it come to that, where she couldn’t count on him, even for jobs that he had always liked to do? He wanted to be involved in the boys’ lives, especially in their sports, but her message was that he wasn’t showing her this. Arriving earlier than usual at soccer practice might help demonstrate his interest to both Sarah, and Peter and Ben.
Jess left the lab at 4:30, putting his assistant Hannah in charge of the experiments that they were running that day. He pointed the Scout towards the town park where U-8 soccer practice was already underway. As he pulled into the parking area, he spotted the twins, their blonde heads and red and blue t-shirts bobbing amongst the players. Apparently, the coach had assigned them to opposite teams, probably to even the odds since they were the strongest players. Jess figured that he had about a half hour before practice was over.
He stood on the sidelines, hands in his pockets, relaxed as he watched the action move up and down the field. Peter’s team was controlling the ball most of the time with the boy playing center and easily dancing around the defense of Ben’s group. As Peter received a pass from a teammate, he pivoted quickly around his opponent to take the ball down the field. But when he tried to take off, the two players’ legs became tangled. Peter’s momentum propelled him forward into the air, toppling over the other boy’s body, and landing on the ground headfirst. It took mere seconds for all the players to realize Peter wasn’t getting up, or even moving. Jess reacted first, running towards Peter whose inert body lay in a twisted heap. He was relieved to see the boy was conscious, but he knew that the angle of impact had been damaging. Ben was the first player to reach them, frantically crying, “Pete, you OK? Pete, Pete!”
The coach, a father of one of the players, ran from the sidelines and waved the other kids back to give them room. He looked at Jess for instructions. “Should we call an ambulance?” asked Coach, but Jess didn’t answer as he was busy checking Peter’s pulse and eyes and asking him simple questions. Peter was foggy and couldn’t remember how he had fallen.
“Yes, dial 911,” Jess said finally. He knew that an ambulance would take a while to get there — the hospital was in the next town — and he was trying to figure out whether they could carry Peter to the Scout and get him to the ER quicker. But he knew a head injury was likely and didn’t want to risk moving him without the right equipment.
Jess held Peter’s hand and spoke softly to the boy, assuring him that he would be OK but not sure yet if he believed his own words. He held up fingers to see if Peter was seeing double. His fear was confirmed. Ben was sobbing quietly now, holding on tightly to Jess’ jacket and asking him over and over if his brother would be all right. With a boy on each side, Jess was ripping his attention in two, comforting both twins and trying to steady himself as he wondered how great the damage to Peter’s brain would really be. It was too painful to look beyond the present so he forced himself to return to next steps. Then he rang Sarah’s cell, aware that he had no idea what to say to her and knew that saying too much would set her reeling into a bad place. His relief was palpable when there was no answer, and he was able to leave her a quick message: “Hi Sarah. Call me back when you get this.” He clicked off and then regretted not telling her why. But he didn’t want to scare her by giving more information on the phone and after all, he couldn’t even assure her that Peter was OK.
The next minutes were a fast forward video as parents streamed in to pick up their kids. Everyone came over to talk to Jess and gawk at Peter, despite Coach’s pleas to stay back and his assurances that an ambulance was on its way. Ignoring them, Jess focused on Peter’s face, ashen and contorted with the throbbing pain in his head. The seven-year-old hadn’t shed a tear, not even from fear, but Ben had done his crying for him. Peter gripped Jess’ hand tightly and at one point said in a voice that was whispery and croaky at the same time, “Thanks for being here, Jess.” The words flew to the hole that was forming in Jess’ gut as he shared the fear that was consuming his young friend.
Ambulance sirens could now be heard in the distance. Jess should have felt relieved but he knew that Peter’s journey was just beginning. Pulling Ben to his feet and wiping the child’s tears away with the tail of his flannel shirt, Jess asked him to help by gathering up Peter’s book bag and shin guards, thereby distracting him from the frightening sight of the flashing lights entering the park. The two EMT’s were beside Peter in seconds, working with precision to secure the boy’s head and neck and strap him onto a stretcher. Squeezing his hand, Jess promised the boy that he would see him in a few minutes, that he and Ben would be following right behind him in the Scout.
The whine of the sirens cleared the way across town as Jess and Ben followed in their wake. Jess pulled in behind the ambulance in front of the red Emergency Room sign, hospital parking rules be damned. Ben had settled down a little during the car ride, but as soon as he saw his twin on the stretcher being wheeled through the double doors, he dissolved again with tears and questions that Jess didn’t even try to answer. He both hoped and feared that Sarah would call him back. She must not arrive before he was ready to comfort her, to reassure her that Peter would be back playing soccer soon, and trying on his sweaty Stetson, and even tossing his lariat over the lamppost one day. Jess needed more time. He beseeched his cell not to ring yet as he put his arms around Ben, murmuring into his tangled yellow hair, “He’s going to be OK, Buddy. He’s got all of us here with him, right? That’s going to make him OK.” At that moment, a nurse approached to tell him the doctor was with Peter and would be out to talk to him after he had a chance to examine the boy. Jess knew it wouldn’t be that easy, that tests would follow, that he and Ben were there for the long haul. But he had accepted that already, hadn’t he? Then his cell phone buzzed.
Jess’ day had begun by watching daybreak across the sky. How far from here that was and how calm his spirit had been during those few hours. Now he was immersed in the reality of young boys and the demands of family. Both had become a part of his life, as he searched for a balanced existence. Sarah was frustrated with his restless spirit, but perhaps today she would see that there was another side to him.
He didn’t want to run but knew that staying would mean a constant battle for him. His thoughts went to his falcon. Tempest had been allowed to choose, but now she was resting on her sunroom perch with a leash fastened to her leg. Her freedom was temporary, an ephemeral glimpse of the woods that lay beyond. He, too, must be satisfied with his own glimpses on these treasured mornings, yet be haunted by knowing that someday he might not come back, that when asked to choose he may, unlike the falcon, not choose wisely.
***
Tina Morris began her career as a research biologist, working for government and non-profit agencies, and focused on endangered species conservation, and more specifically birds of prey. Her graduate work was in wildlife biology and her thesis was on bald eagle restoration in the 1970’s. This love of natural history, animals and biological themes led her to teach high school biology when her four children were growing up and field research became logistically difficult.
