Threshold

Chapter 3 Excerpt

by Susan L. Feathers

The Desert Museum sat low and snug in the gentle curve of the desert, its tan adobe walls and rock paths forming an extension of the sandy floor and the surrounding mountains. Sunk in a sea of saguaros, the Museum’s presence was subtle like the land, the only change at its boundaries marked by the rock outlines that formed outdoor exhibits for mountain lions and coyotes, and by a forest of little trees, lacy and green, that were interspersed with plump cacti of every shape and size.

At night in the moon tide, big brown bats swooped over the site’s lush vegetation, scooping up insects that hovered over the beaver pond. Bobcats and coyotes hunted there, too, looking for the rats and mice and snakes that roamed the Museum grounds under the warm summer moonlight. Rattlesnakes and sidewinders plied the earth across the valley’s confines, drawn by the warmth of breathing little bodies gathering seed. Swift and silent creatures, they seamlessly rowed on their belly scales over rocky paths where they ruled the nighttime’s smaller kingdoms.

But at daybreak, the night stalkers disappeared, confined to subterranean caves to rest through the heat of the day. The cactus wren, hummingbird, and human took their place in the sun tide of the desert sea.

This morning, Dr. Luis Muñoz was walking the Museum grounds to check on the exhibit animals. The heat worried him. Even though these were all desert creatures adapted to the area’s aridity and heat, they must still be affected by recent temperatures, which had remained well above normal even at night.

Visitation to the outdoor museum had dropped precipitously. Locals came less often. It was simply too hot to be outside.

Luis wiped the sweat from his brow and dabbed his dark, shiny hair with a bright blue bandana. His hiking boots crunched softly on the graveled paths. Luis liked feeling close to the earth. The recent long, hard days stirred old memories lying about in his unconscious mind like piles of dry leaves stirred and lifted up by winds of change.

As a youth, he had explored the pine-oak forests that stood high above the plains of Sonora, Mexico. He’d tracked the mountain lion and its prey, the mule deer, and observed the antics of the wily bobcat at night. Several times he had encountered the elusive jaguar. Black rosettes rippled on its tawny flank behind the trees, catching the young man’s eye. Once, it stopped, turning a reflective green orb toward Luis. He had stood frozen for what seemed an interminable time. The raw power of the animal filled that dappled wood. Luis saw that life was vigorous in the mountains of his homeland, and he understood that his family was a small part of a much grander whole. This became the sensibility that informed the direction of his life.