HEARTFELT

Always Hungry, his conveyed name, was born and raised on the vast white plains of the tundra where life was days of swimming, foraging on sedges and bulrushes and horsetail, and sometimes flocking at an iceberg. 

Today, on the Makai golf course in Kauai, Hawaii, which is where he often hangs out, you might hear,  “That’s Maximus over there! He’s the only resident of his kind in all of Hawaii” A dear friend of his used to call him Maxi, and a few around here know him as Aflac. If you asked him what he thought of that,  he’d probably triple snort and shake his head—belly laughter for him. He’d rather think joke than disparagement because he’s a kind soul. He’s also a mentor, philosopher, and patriarch of a large family of unlike kin. His wings are full again so when he flies, he leads, the formation right behind him, honking to let him know all is good.  

This is his story. How he was plucked from the sea by a fisherman in the aftermath of Pacific Hurricane Flossie. A mangled mess with very few feathers and barely breathing, the fisherman still recognized him as an Alaskan snow goose. He figured the goose was the sole survivor of their seasonal migration. Unable to fly, walk, or even eat on his own, the goose was fortunate to have the kind fisherman take care of him, then drop him off at a bird sanctuary on a nearby island. 

“Bah!” Says Maximus. How can any of that that be true? He only remembers waking with a start…"

  I fell. It wasn't a dive! Not a thrilling swoop! I was plummeting uncontrollably. I tried to pull in, drop into a roll; I tried to bank, allowing the girth of my wings to guide me, but my wings wouldn’t obey. I cried out for Momma. Honk! Honk! Honk! 

  Abruptly, the dream took a turn and a foggy sprawl of shapeless green resolved into my consciousness. Not a thermal: this was my first realization, for I was on the ground. My second realization was my head ached like a log had fallen on it. Into my field of view loomed a wide landscape of matted green earth and low rise trees. Not overly alarming, but definitely strange. I could not see a wisp of white ground. Though I looked about, I could not see a single member of my family or my extended family, or any being from any of the families. I raised my neck, edging myself left, then right. I turned behind me. The same green nothingness. Now thrums of alarm began to play havoc with my heartbeat. I shook my head, closed my eyes. I had to be stuck in a dream, only alien scents on waves of thick humidity filtered into my nostrils. I flew my eyes open, gasping. Gas vapors! A sign of destroyers! I held my breath not only to avoid breathing toxins but to soften my pounding heart. Think! Think! Where am I? How did I get here? Where’s Momma?  

   On my right, the ground tilted upward, forming a green hillside with patches of exposed rusty-red soil. No recognizable life, no kin.  

  Hello! Hello!  I honked.

  Anybody! Hello! 

  The hum and whine of insects and a hollow wind returned to my ears. 

  I was totally alone. 

  I had never before been totally alone, not even when I’d gone exploring. Well I’d gotten separated from my five besties for short spans on occasion. And boy oh boy would my kin snap at us when we returned. 

  But totally alone! Without a living being of any— 

  No, a being was flying, out of nowhere, chirping like a maniac, not far above my head. It was much smaller than me, tiny actually. It landed on the limb of a skinny tree! Wow! Gray body, bright red crown; I’d never before seen such a thing, and what a noise for such a mini creature. Thinking back, the bird was probably conveying, “What an earth are you? Never seen anything like you! Albino?”  

So where were the other beings in this weird green place? And where was my kin? After playing gawk and head-shake with the bird, I raised myself and took a step. Something felt off! Not only was my head aching, my legs buckled, no spring in my gripping toes. I winced from a stabbing on my right side and a thought flashed in and out of my mind! A terrifying thought, so shocking that it snatched my heart and shook me the way a predator holds pray in its jaws! I honked! Maybe I barked. I shook my head, my heart pummeling inside me. Even though my legs and feet felt as if they were ablaze, I forced myself forward, digging my toes into soft ground. I snapped at air, at nothing, moisture unintentionally welling up in my eyes.  

  No! Not memory! Surely not memory! I honked and honked and honked. I had to get away from here! I spread my wings, I thought. But no, they hand’t moved at all! Stiff like ice, like rock, like not even there! My eyes begged me to look: Your wings! Your wings!  But I dared not look, would not. Despite the freeze in my legs I forced them forward. I snarled at the stabbing in my side, ignoring the flooding in my eyes. One more step! One more! I didn’t know which way to go. The sun was beating heavily on me, my white plumage heating up like a furnace. Where was the breeze? Where was water? Scents and sensations unlike anything I’d ever known hit me like swarming gnats. My eyes roamed to the left side of the big hill, the right. Oh how my heart longed to see my sister jostling over the rise of that hill. My kin had to be somewhere close, also lost, searching for me. My fogged-over eyes swept left, swept right, but what I saw was not from sight—my mind was bent on kidnapping me and tossing me into a charcoal sky, where shards of light slashed at me, gusts blasted me, crunches of ice pelted me, at all of us, my core kin, extended kin, all the families. I dropped like a stone. We were all dropping, bouncing, plumages whipping about us driven by the wind’s frenzy, hundreds of severed body parts hitting me, whizzing by me, a whirlpool of debris slamming the breadth of the sky. CRACKS, not destroyer kill sticks cracks but nature’s, screamed into my ears, a demon’s breath swallowing me whole, forcing from my sight all of my family. 

  I honked and honked and honked, shaking my head furiously to oust the memory. No! False memory! Not real!  I needed to soar away from this madness! This horror show! Once again, my wings refused to obey me, the attempt to lift excruciating, the stabbing in my side unbearable. 

  There was no denying it any longer. I forced my eyes downward, and saw shorn remnants of my wing tips, a wracked body, shredded plumage. Not only was I lost, not only was I alone…I was ruined.  

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More about David's books 

Who is David Marsh?  A British photographer in Kauai who's also a cinematographer, author of two published books, and quite a few yet to be published.