Drone Defense
The woman woke up at the first hint of light, climbed out of bed, and got dressed. Over the head of her bed hung a large dreamcatcher, decorated with white eagle feathers. Once she had her day clothes on, she reached into a little fuzzy hammock that had its own tiny dreamcatcher hanging over it, and stroked the tummy of an African grey parrot, who woke up happy.
“Good morning good morning good morning! it chuckled, “it’s a beautiful day!”
“You say that every day, Mouse, and today you’re right,” she replied. The bird climbed up her arm and into the fleece-lined pocket she’d sewn on the front of her denim shirt. It snuggled in, warm and comfortable, and stuck its head out to watch the world.
She walked to the back of the wagon and opened the leather flap to let in the morning light. Both walls were lined with cages, and each cage contained an adult bald eagle, they were beginning to wake up and move around. She strapped a leather falconry glove to her left arm and opened the first cage, farthest in the back.
The massive bird looked at her with black eyes, and she clicked her tongue at it, “come on out Cindy, baby.”
It stepped out onto the woman’s arm, all ten pounds worth. The woman tapped her forearm and the eagle bowed its head. She gently scratched the head and neck, and the bird fluffed its feathers and sighed. She found the tiny, waxy pin feathers and rolled them between her fingers until the wax flaked away to dust and the feathers popped open. She bent her own head down until their foreheads touched. “You be good girl, Cindy baby. You get those bad birds.”
A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see a tall man standing behind the wagon, he had approached without making a sound. She slid a leather hood over the eagle’s head.
He wore combat boots, soft leather pants, a beaded belt, and war paint covering his bare chest. Two long, black braids hung down his back, and a headband wrapped around his forehead. His face was as blank as stone.
“What is that?” he said, pointing to the dreamcatcher.
“I made it,” she replied.
“Those are not for you.”
“And this is for you?” she retorted, gesturing to his painted chest, and to his mustang, also painted, which was eating the dewy grass. “You’re dressed up like a Plains Indian. Are you Apache, Comanche?”
He took a step forward. “I am Shocktaw.”
“Well, Shocktaw, take your bird. Cindy’s feeling good today.”
Cindy stepped onto his arm. He said, “Our women wanted to come to this war. We told them no. Your white men are weak.”
“Or maybe our women are extra strong?” then she looked down, “I mean Lord knows I don’t want to be near combat. But I take care of my birds, wherever they go.”
“Heh, heh, heh,” said Mouse, from its pocket, “uh oh, here we go.”
He kept looking at his eagle, “My arms are full, take down my braids.”
She reached up and untied the leather strips and combed his black hair with her fingers until it fell down his back. Then she grabbed the cross he wore around his neck, “God bless you, James.”
He looked down at her, “God bless you too, Miss Amy.”
Then James leapt onto his horse and rode away.
Her next customer was just arriving. “Good morning, Charles,” she called to him. The cowboy walked up to her, dressed all in leather, long pants and sleeves, gator skin boots, a massive silver belt buckle, and from his belt hung two pistols and a knife, and across his back was slung a long net-gun. He carried a thermos in his hand. He unscrewed the cap and poured a cup of black coffee into it, which he handed to Amy. She sipped it silently.
“So where are my sweet words?” he complained.
“You have your shirt on so I can control myself better,” she replied. But thank you for the coffee.” she handed him back the empty cap, “let me get your girl.”
She brought him out another big eagle, which docilely stepped onto his leather-clad arm. “You be good to Zanza, and she’ll be good to you. Here, take this too,” and she handed him a stinky pouch filled with dried fish, “her snacks.”
“Yes ma’am,” he answered, tipping his hat with his free hand, and turned away.
“Hey, I thought of some sweet words for you! Don’t fall off your horse!”
“Aww thanks girl, I was gonna do it till you said something!” and he galloped away. She could hear the next one coming, and she knew who he was, the loud motor ruined the morning silence.
He parked his bright blue motorcycle farther away, to spare her from the dust. He was dressed all in blue bike armor, blue gloves, and a glossy blue helmet which he didn’t remove. As he approached the wagon, an eagle inside chirped a greeting. “Beast,” he said.
Amy opened Beast’s door and it hopped out, bobbing its head. Beast was a little smaller than the other two. She handed it over to the blue soldier and it bobbed its head again, fluffed its feathers out big, and smoothed them all back down. Amy put the hood on its head.
A voice, somewhat muffled by the mask, said, “Beast isn’t afraid of my engine. He likes it.”
She watched as he sat on the bike and Beast leaned forward and opened its wings slightly in anticipation. Then the blue soldier peeled out, at high speed, heading for the battlefield.