From the Floor

“What?  Why does Jeter need us to climb in there?” Mysery cringed as she asked.   She  was looking at a backseat made up of nothing but a flat cushion resting on the hull of that propeller-driven two-seater.

“That’s the only way we can get to Little Salmon Creek,” Trixsay said giving Mysery a push in the right direction so they all could board.

Jeter ducked and his head went inside the plane following the camera bag, then he turned around to sit on the cushion and pull uncooperative legs inside so that the door could shut.  With more squirming, their feet were tucked under a real seat. Mysery was startled when the door slammed.  Close to tears, she sniffled.

Humdrum noticed a smell.  “Phew, what has the pilot been transporting—fish?”

Any attempts at conversation petered out as the engine roared to life.  Excited by the fact that the wings were positioned over their head giving Jeter a good view, Trixsay reached for the camera bag. Then she noticed to her dismay that the side windows were dirty adding a gray tinge to an already gray world.

Mysery huddled inside of herself keeping her eyes closed.

Once the plane reached altitude, Jeter’s Wee Folk could only be heard if they shouted.  The overcast sky was creating curtains of rain masking the view of the mountains on the far side of the bay.  Above the water, clouds were parting here and there to let light through and add sparkle to the quiet water.  “What are those things down there?” Trixsay asked.

Trembling, Mysery opened her eyes.  She screeched.

Humdrum ignored Mysery and studied the scene on the water.  “Fishing boats mostly.  Looks like they’re at anchor.  Those further out are pylons.  Probably marking where shallow water begins.”

“And that?” Trixsay asked as she focused the camera.

Humdrum reacted to what he too was seeing through the camera. “A tidal flat.   The tide is out.  See that river.  The flat is composed of silt which is brought to the sea by such braided rivers muddy with glacial melt.”

“How did you learn all that?’  Trixsay asked Humdrum   She studied the snow-capped mountains, some volcanic.

“In New Zealand.   Remember their braided streams?”

“Hello, we’re going down.”  Trixsay said as Mysery screeched.  The plane banked toward a clump of summer grasses, Trixsay put the camera away.

The plane landed and rolled a short distance.  Outside the window, they saw people waiting for them.  Mysery sighed with relief.

A few minutes later the side door opened and Jeter moved their legs out of the opening and down.

Humdrum studied the sand.  They were on a beach—and standing in a giant footprint left by a grizzly’s kin.

Alarmed Mysery looked for the beast with wide-open eyes.

Brown Bears Footprint in Alaskan  mud
by Jeter Sleet