In Pursuit of the Painted Bunting

“Eugene... I think the birds have gone into a strange new sort of summer hibernation practice.” After hours of watching through her binoculars, Sam still had not seen a single bird, much less the painted bunting. Being June, it is pretty late for bird diversity due to the intense Mississippi heat. However, she must make the most of her rare trips down South, which has a totally different ecosystem than Montana. Eugene the fat tuxedo cat gazed at the trees and bushes around the garden, stalking his next prey. He needed no binoculars when on the hunt.

When it is June in Mississippi, you can see the heat actually coming off of the pavement. The bugs are few and far between, considering most of them are in a lazy daze due to the humidity-- so hot and thick that it could be cut with a butter knife. Sam was not used to this kind of weather. Sweat dripped from her forehead and rolled all the way down her binoculars until it fell off and into her glass of sweet tea. She preferred sitting on the shaded porch in order to stay cool as well as save her lily-white complexion from a burn. Eugene was used to this kind of weather, and rather preferred it. It was perfect cat-napping weather. “Maybe the birds are hiding, or are too scared to come out in this scorching heat. Honestly, I don’t blame them.” Sam talked to Eugene as her friend, considering that she rarely spoke to many others on these trips. Grandpa was too tired and too sick to try and muster a syllable, and grandma was too busy worrying to hold a conversation longer than 2 responses.

Though no birds were to be seen, Sam enjoyed looking around the garden through her birdwatching spectacles. Without them, everything was a flourish of green with the occasional color from flower blossoms, all blurred mostly by the heat waves rising off of the stones in the garden. But through the binoculars she saw a whole magical, mini-world. Starting from the left and panning across the garden, she saw things in this order: the fuzzy stalks of cucumber and zucchini plants, the delicate yellow petal of a squash blossom, the droplets of water on the freshly watered sunflowers and poppies, the vibrant red peppers itching to be picked, the sparkling bubbles at the top of the fountain in the pond, the brilliant etchings in the stone from the chicken scratches, the fancy feathers on the black and white Plymouth Barred Rock chickens, and then finally, her favorite part, the tomatoes. The brilliant lime green tomato cages reflected an almost neon in the midday light. Each tomato shone a different sheen--the cherry like brilliant ruby beads on a necklace, roma like red water balloons about to burst from fullness, and finally, the brandywine like large ornaments bending the limbs on a christmas tree. Only, they are on a tomato plant. “These are the best tomatoes you will find in this state” grandma would say, and Sam easily agreed. These tomatoes were grown with such care and delicacy. There was no doubt that they were the purest and best form of a tomato a person could eat. The tomato was the most sensational orangey-red color, and tasting it was an experience of its own. One crisp--not soggy--bite and immediately one's mouth would burst with flavor. The juiciness that would drip down the corners of the lips, and the taste so sweet but not bitter. Sam fell into a daydream of tomato-eating bliss.

Rain clouds were coming on the horizon and Eugene could sense it. Unlike other cats, Eugene was fine with the rain, and therefore found no need or urgency to move from his comfortable napping place. Sam thought it was about time to call it a day. Like most cats, she hated rain. Any sort of weather that causes her to get wet--including sweat from heat--caused Sam to run inside for cover. As she took one final scan of the garden before she put up her binoculars the most miraculous thing caught her eye. The painted bunting was there, perched upon the plumpest Brandywine tomato. The bird beautifully contrasted the bright red tomato with its darker blue, orange, and yellow flecks of feathers sprinkled throughout the wings and tail. “Eugene, how wonderful! Who would have ever thought at this time of year--a painted bunting!” This news was especially delightful for Eugene, knowing that he had found himself some supper.

The rain began to trickle down, but this did not stop Eugene. Steadily he began to creep toward the magnificently painted bird. At first, Sam wasn’t sure of Eugene’s intentions. However, as he got closer, he became stealthier and was obviously ready to pounce. Sam was thrown into a frenzy. “Eugene do NOT even think about it!” she yelled in a whispered tone in order not to frighten her precious feathered friend. Eugene gave no regard to Sam’s remark, as he was already locked in and committed to his kill.

The conflict of what to do next arose. Would she run out and save the bird from the claws of Eugene the tuxedo cat, though it would cost her being exposed to dangerous elements of nature? Or, would she stay safe in her world away from the potential dangers that would possibly ensue if she left her dry nest on the porch? Her fight or flight sense kicked in, and fighting it was. Sam clumsily ran out into the garden, the rain now beginning to pour with droplets as big as quarters. Dirt and mud splashed onto the backs of her pale white legs and destroyed her unblemished white sneakers. She squinted in order to keep the rain from burning her eyes, which also caused her to stumble over the occasional root and rock. Right as Eugene leapt into the air to take down the fresh catch he had been deprived of since April, Sam caught his fat black body and hugged him close. The bunting flew away, unscathed. The two stood there in the garden, Eugene feeling his fur dampen and Sam watching the sweat on her skin wash away--replaced by rainwater. Up close, the tomatoes were far more magnificent and beautiful than through the binoculars. In fact, the whole garden was. The rain felt good on her skin and in her hair, a sensation she never thought she would feel in her lifetime. “Thank you Eugene” she said tenderly, “you showed me a brand new world.”