Field Journal
There is a sharp tallness to the air in the morning. It might be the chemicals plants produce when covered in dew. The air is more cleansing, more full, but crisp. Birds’ wings somehow glide them out toward the horizon. The air brings those willing awake and vying for life.
A Great Blue Heron stalks two-inch fish under the cement dock. It has a watcher but is more
concerned with its hunt. It shakes its head twice after catching a fish, like a dog with a chew toy. The watcher decides that it’s just trying to get the water out of its eyes.
There is a sense of community among those up early. They say five times as many hellos. They have something in common. An ability to be awake. A shared secret. And there are fewer humans in the city so it’s a wonder they saw one.
The Great Blue is gliding in the water toward the shore. Feet sliding over sand, broken shells, and algae-covered rocks. It bumps into cinder blocks and sends hermit crabs in a swirl along the way.
A man paces back and forth on the cement dock. When the watcher, a petite girl, stands up from the steps leading to the water, he looks at her and smiles. “I like your coat,” he says. She laughs and thanks him. It’s their inside joke that the day would be hot. He turns back to pacing and brings a phone to his face. “There’s a woman here wearing a winter coat,” he says. She isn’t sure if the joke grew to one person or lost one. Her immediate reaction is to assume he finds it funny for her to wear a winter coat so he shares it with his wife or friend on the phone. A knocking thought says he thinks she’s ridiculous and an obvious outsider for wearing winter gear like a little wussy. Later reflection reveals that whoever was on the phone was probably just confused about who he was talking to.
The watcher retakes her seat and curls over her knees. A small bird with a long neck and legs starts walking towards the pier. She is a shorebird, most definitely. She looks young. She’ll probably be back next spring and the watcher will meet her there.
Abigail Juchs, a senior at Prescott College, is an aspiring author of poetry, science fiction, and fantasy novels. She is pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Arts and Humanities emphasizing writing and literature, and minoring in environmental studies. She currently lives in Jacksonville, Florida, and draws inspiration from the outdoors, her family, and God.