Lost in the River of Grass Read Online Free PDF Page B

through the center. It was exciting, so I search the horizon for a stand of cattails to hit. When I see one, I slow to make the turn toward it.
    â€œWhere you going?” Andy shouts.
    I point. “Those cattails.”
    He laughs and gives me a thumbs-up.
    As we barrel toward the stand, I’m suddenly afraid but fight the urge to veer off. Instead, I stare at the cattails until it feels like we’re standing still and the bank of green is in a headlong rush to consume us. In a second or two we will be swallowed up by a sea of green stalks. I see a duck lift off the water in front of us just before I squeeze my eyes shut and hit the wall of cattails. I feel the tug of the thick stalks beneath us, then the surge as the airboat comes out into water on the other side. I open my eyes, pull back on the throttle, and laugh.
    Andy’s looking at something; then, without a word, he hops over the side. The water’s only knee-deep as he wades to the edge of the cattails. He leans over with his hands on his hips. He reaches for something, and when he turns, in each hand is a dead baby duck.

5
    â€œIt’s my fault.” Andy reaches up and turns off the ignition. “All sorts of animals live and hide in the cattails and saw grass. I should have told you. You didn’t know.” He lifts an arm to pitch the first one overboard.
    â€œDon’t,” I cry.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWe need to bury them.”
    â€œBury them? Look where we are.”
    â€œWe’ll take them to wherever we’re going and bury them there.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know. So nothing eats them.”
    â€œWhat have you got against letting the dead feed the living? Something should eat them,” he says. “Otherwise their death is wasted.”
    â€œIt’s just not right to throw them away.”
    â€œSo you want to have a little funeral?” He smiles.
    I feel my cheeks burn. He’s laughing at me. “I just want to bury them.”
    â€œCover them with dirt and let the worms eat ’em, huh? How dumb is that? It goes against nature’s plan . . .”
    This reminds me of what the ranger said about the warbler. I raise my hands to shut Andy up. “Stop with that let-nature-take-its-course thing.”
    â€œYou’re in the wrong place to feel that way.”
    â€œI don’t care. I killed them, and we’re going to bury them.”
    Andy looks at the duckling in his left hand. I thought I saw something, too. “Did it just move?”
    â€œI think it did.” He hands it up to me, and puts his ear to the breast of the other one. Its little head slides off the side of his hand and dangles limply. “This one’s neck is broken.”
    The one cupped in my hands opens its eyes. “I think this one is okay. Just stunned.” I smile. “Maybe we can find its mother.”
    Andy snorts. “That duck’s a zillion miles from here.” He puts his hand out to help me down. “What are you going to do with it?”
    I’m surprised he asks. “Take it back with us.”
    â€œYou gonna raise it in your bathtub?”
    â€œCan’t you keep it? You live out here.”
    â€œIt will be imprinted.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIt will be tame, not afraid of people. That’s not good for a wild thing.”
    â€œWell, what would you do with it?”
    He rolls his eyes like he knows he’s wasting his breath. “Put it overboard for something to catch and eat.”
    â€œThat’s sick. There’s no way I’m leaving it here.” I look at the dead one, lying on the cooler lid. “You can put that one over the side if you want to.”
    â€œNaw. There are gators where we’re going. I’ll feed it to one of them.”
    â€œYou will not. Give it to me.”
    I pick it up. Its eyes are dull, black slits. I feel awful about killing it and stroke its downy yellow belly