Headwaters Writers' Guild

           

The following is an extract from Clare McCarthy’s novel, “Tales From Porcupine Junction” (intended publication date: mid 2016).

Porcupine Junction Extract

As soon as Bert heard that Charles wanted to raise a young Osprey that he’d rescued, Bert immediately suggested, “Gary,  you need to talk to Billy Williams.”

            “Who?”

            “William Williams, that old fellow who moved into town last summer. He lives in that little white cottage over near the fire hall.”

            “Why him?”

            “Well he recently emigrated here from Wales, and I understand that he knows a lot about birds. I heard that he usta work with folks in Wales who raised raptors, and I think that he even spent a while workin’ with a vet who specialized in an Avian Veterinarian practice. He’s a bit of a strange  old duck, but I think he’s just the person that you need to talk to.”

            When Gary returned home, he explained to his son about what he’d learned at the shop. I think you’d better head over and talk to Mr. Williams as soon as you can. You probably know where his little white house is, next to Chief Joe Snell’s place, over by the fire hall.” Since it was still early afternoon, Charles set out immediately and was soon knocking on Mr. Williams' front door.

            The age of short and pudgy William Williams had pushed well past three score and ten at least half a dozen years ago. Bill usually wore a Deerstalker Sherlock Holmes style hat whenever he went ambling around Porcupine Junction. He was pretty much bald except for the odd salt and pepper sprout of hair which poked out erratically from under his cap. Billy’s peanut- size snout was offset  by  a pointy chin which stuck out between chubby cheeks and over a wobbly double chin.

            Billy usually wore a woolen walking jacket over a matching vest and baggy woolen trousers circled his ample middle while knee-high woolen stockings kept each pant-leg firmly in check. A pair of clumpy chestnut brown walking shoes set off the rest, of  Bill’s sartorial splendor.

            When Charles arrived at the Williams residence, Billy was sitting perched on a relic of a church pew on his front porch. The elderly gent was puffing profusely on his old briar, its bowl blackened from eons of use. Since Bill had no teeth, he had cut off the stem of his pipe and wound the remainder of the stem with black electrician’s tape so he could clamp the pipe firmly in his gums.  No one knew what brand Bill smoked in his briar, but whatever it was, it was always wise to always stand well up-wind whenever he had her fired up.

            “Good afternoon Mr. Williams, my name is Charles Caboose, but you can call me Chuckie if you want. I’ve got a problem that I hoped that you could help me with. I found what I think is a baby Osprey that fell out of its nest. I’m tryin’ to keep it from dyin’ and I wondered if you could help me out since folks say you know all about birds.”

            “Well, lad  I don’t know ALL about birds but I’d be glad to help you out if I can. Where is this wee creature right now?”

            It’s at my house inside in a box with a screen on the front. It’s tucked in on the bottom of the cage sittin’ on a towel to keep warm.”

            “You live at the Big Canoe Marina don’t you?”

            “That’s right.”

            “I’ll drop by tomorrow morning at about nine to see what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

            “Great! I’ll be waitin’” Charlie Caboose slept well that night as he anticipated a visit from Mr. Williams the following morning.

            Chuckie was outside early in the morning just as Mr. Williams turned the corner up the street.

             Billy was wearing his traditional Deerstalker, clumpy walking shoes, woolen jacket and he was puffing as usual on his ever-present briar. With lowered head and peering out from under the peak of his hat, the clouds of smoke billowing forth from Mr. Williams’ pipe made Charles think of a determined steam locomotive chugging up a grade. Arriving at the marina doorway, Billy knocked the glowing dottle from his briar on the heel of his shoe then tucked the pipe into his jacket pocket.  With a greeting of, “Good morning,” Billy followed Charles through the doorway into the marina.  When they reached the bird box, Billy opened the lid, reached inside and gently plucked  out the wee bird which was just beginning to sprout a few fluffy feathers. Billy held the little creature in his thick calloused hand, tilted his head slightly, squinted through both eyes  then declared, “You were right lad, what you’ve got here is a healthy male Pandion haliaetus. I see that you must have been taking good care of him.”

            “What did you say he was?”

            “He’s a Pandion haliaetus! That’s just a five dollar word for what folks around here would usually call an Osprey.”

            “That’s great to hear, I thought that you said he had some sort of disease.”

            “Nope, he looks to be in good shape. Has he got a name yet?”

            “No, I didn’t know if it was a he or she. Since it’s a him, I think that I’ll call him Jester.  Do you think I’d ever be able to train him the way they do with eagles an’ hawks?”

            “Well, the short answer is probably  yes, but you’ve got a long way to go yet before you even reach that stage. I’ll drop by and take a look at him every couple of days and in case of emergency, feel free to drop by my place and between the two of us we’ll do our best to see that Jester has a long and healthy contented life. Your main job right now is to make sure that he’s well looked after.

Drawing by Clare McCarthy

Posted on behalf of Clare McCarthy.