Kat Among The Pigeons Read online

  "I think this might be a great combination of both. I enjoy meeting people and from what I saw of Estes Park, the town has all the amenities you would want anyway."

  "Exactly." I shifted down on the narrow straightway which has an incline steep enough to make a good toboggan run. Two kids zipped past on bikes, heading towards school. We had a magnificent view of the city and the mountains across the small valley. David leaned forward, admiring the view.

  "You can't get bored in a place like this . . . well, not unless your idea of fun is the big city life, though Denver isn't far away," I added.

  At the next curve we passed a lovely white cottage with a picket fence -- rather out of place nestled amid the log cabins and a-frames. The house belonged to Mrs. Hale, a petite grey-haired lady who owned half a dozen pure-bred cats. Those included a British Shorthair named Mrs. Miniver, who'd gone astray at one point (so to speak) with an old tough tom. One of their kittens was Cato.

  I glanced over to the yard and saw two of her purebreds and a few of the local strays, including Pawford, Abbie and Trouble. They sat in a circle, as though they'd gathered for a morning chat. Cat heads turned my way as I drove by, all with an 'I'm worried' look.

  "That's odd," David said. "Did you see those cats?"

  "Cats? Oh, at Mrs. Hale's house. She has quite a few cats, mostly purebred." I babbled and didn't look again. I wanted to park and go ask what was wrong. I couldn't, so I eased my foot away from the brake, letting us pick up speed. I needed answers, but with David along, I didn't know where to go without drawing questions I couldn't answer.

  Or maybe I did know one place. I could to go to the pigeons.

  "I'm going to make a stop at a city park," I said and offered a smile. "To feed the pigeons -- and yes, it does get expensive."

  He laughed.

  We hit the outskirts of town proper, crossed the bridge over Fish Creek and headed down to Gully Park. Not many people knew the place, since the park isn't on the main roads. Mostly locals gathered here in warmer weather. Today a bit of mist hung close to the stream at the park's edge and I saw a deer dart away at our approach. I parked and got out. David began rummaging through his camera bag as I took a bad of bird food from the trunk. I always keep some there. Just because I can understand birds doesn't mean they're automatically my friends. Bribes help.

  The pigeons roost in an old barn at the corner of the park. I donate a lot of money each year to keep the barn in shape and give them this location. Some of the locals want to chase the pigeons away, but I've managed to protect them. Pigeons aren't as stupid as most humans assume. They're staid, sedentary animals who happen to be fixated on where they get their next meal. I've known humans -- and fae -- with much the same attitude.

  And they know me. As soon as I stepped out of the car, pigeons began to lift from the roof and head my way. I hurried across to the now dry fountain so I could have a few words with them without David close by. I hoped he didn't follow.

  I glanced over to see him pull out a camera, which meant I needed to pull in my magic or else I would appear as a big glowing blob on his film -- always hard to explain. I didn't need magic for this, though. Talking to the birds and cats is innate to me, a part of my brain, not my magic. I held all the magic I needed to attract them in the bag of seed I carried under my arm.

  I went to a spot by the fountain. The birds landed at my feet, feathered heads pecking at the cement walkway as though I had already dropped the seed there.

  "I need answers guys." I leaned over, dropping grain in semicircle before me. "I need to know if there's anything going on."

  "Outward, outward, outward," they cried in half a dozen voices. I didn't know what they meant. I sprinkled a bit more grain. "Outward, fly, away, get away, get away, get away."

  I didn't like the sounds of this at all.

  "Who is trying to get away? Who is flying away?" I asked softly.

  One of the birds, a lovely pigeon with spots of almost iridescent purple encircling her neck and scattered across her face, looked up at me. We'd talked before. She seemed more intelligent than the others.

  "Tell me what's happening, Pretty," I asked softly and leaned down closer to her.

  "Big wings." She her wings fluttered. "Little wings fear big wings."

  "Ah. You're upset because of the nuthatches," I said, feeling a whisper of relief.

  "Chickies, jays, little wings."

  I felt a chill run up my arms as I scattered more grain, trying to think of something else to ask. This was not a case of an eagle or something unsettling the nuthatches. Chickadees scare easily, but jays are more aggressive and harder to chase off.

  "Where?" I asked. "Where are the big wings?"

  "Fly, fly, fly!" She swept into the air, her and a dozen other pigeons, all circling around me, fluttering in the kind of panic they usually only show when something dangerous comes close by.

  I was sorry I hadn't paid better attention to the nuthatches because this was not normal behavior for pigeons or cats. I dropped more food hoping they'd stick around and I could return later to talk. I feared even the pigeons might be considering moving elsewhere. They didn't scare the way small birds did.

  "Where is the trouble?" I asked.

  "Big, big, high, cold."

  High in the mountains, I suspected, which made sense. This might be the fluctuation with The Edge unsettling everyone. The smaller birds would have translated something they didn't understand into something hunting them. Instinctive behavior.

  I'd have to check The Edge later. I took the grain bag to the car and climbed in. David smiled and held out the digital camera. I clamped way down on my powers again and took the camera carefully in my hands.

  "The camera is tough; you won't break it."

  Ha. Little did he know.

  I'd never seen a picture of myself before, and this one was . . . magical. The pigeons flew around me, a slight blurring of the wings, while I stood in the middle.

  "Very nice."

  "I'll print you a copy if you like."

  "Yes, I would." I handed the camera to him and glanced at the pigeons.

  "Something wrong?"

  "They're agitated today." I pulled away, wishing I had better answers. I did my best to dismiss the sense of trouble, and turn my attention to this job with David. I would have felt if something drastic was out of place, after all. I would check on things tonight. "I thought we'd go to Endovalley today, maybe hike a ways up Old Fall River Road."

  He leaned back, watching the scenery. "Wherever you want. I've never been here before."

  "Really? I'll have to show you around. We're too early in the spring to go over the high pass. Maybe we'll take the long drive around to the other side of the mountain before you leave. There's a beautiful area of the park -- relatively new -- across there. The Coyote Valley Trailhead area usually has elk and sometimes even a moose or two."

  "Sounds nice." I heard a hint of excitement in his voice. I think he enjoyed nature as much as I did.

  We drove past the rows of hotels dotting Highway 34, though early enough to miss most of the traffic. Even at this time of year tourists came to the area, though not in the huge flocks which would appear later. We were past the ski season and too early for the summer tourists.

  We headed in the Fall River entrance station. Lily Gibson and Jim Simon were the two on duty. Both stood outside the shack, drinking coffee. They handled the two cars ahead of me, and then came over to my window.

  "Hey, Kat," Lily said, her southern drawl more pronounced than usual, which meant she was tired. "There's trouble -- who is this?"

  I wanted to hear what might be wrong, but Lily stopped and frowned at my companion. Jim Simon, a big burly man who looked like a bear next to little Lily scrunched down and stared in the window to see who else sat in the car.

  "This is David Carter. He's a photographer. We're working on an article together."

  "Ah," Lily said as she smiled. So did Jim. They're good friends, and they know I
live alone. "Well, be careful out there today. We got some people out tracking, though we're not sure what's out there. Something's on the move and even panicked the big horns. We think there might be a rogue bear or cat in the area."

  "We'll be careful." The idea of something panicking the big horns made me, once again, wish I hadn't brushed off the warning from the nuthatches.

  "I have a tranquilizer gun in my pack," David said. "I used it once in the Amazon and keep the gun with me on field trips."

  Jim nodded. "Good."

  "Oh, and did you hear they cleared out the Stanley last night?" Lily asked. She looked at David. "Is that where you are staying?"

  "The Stanley Hotel? No." He saw her eyebrow lift and her eyes flicker to me. "I just got here this morning. I'm staying at the Zamond Inn. What happened to the Stanley Hotel?"

  "Power outage and they can't seem to figure out why. Everyone's moved to other places." She glanced up as another car pulled in behind us.

  "We're not going to be here long," I said, trying not to laugh. "We're heading to Endovalley today, maybe hike to Chasm Falls."

  "You better get moving before the morning is gone." Lily hit the side of the car as two more vehicles pulled into line. I recognized at least one of the locals. "Let me know if you see anything."

  I nodded and pulled away, slowing as we entered the park. A chipmunk scurried across the road, a piece of bread he'd found in the trash hanging from his mouth and slowing him down. They never understood the danger of this spot.

  "The rangers are friendly," David said, already pulling out a camera.

  "Yeah, they are. Lots of good people here at the park." The area where we came in wasn't spectacular, though lovely boulders crowd down by the road and the rich scent of pine forest fills the air. I loved this drive, and drank in the feel of the place. I thought David might be doing the same.

  I pulled into the lot at Sheep Lakes where other cars had stopped and people stood outside, watching the grassy area in front of them where dozens of big horns stood. The larger males paced around while the others gathered in a small circle munching at the grass though they twitched at any sudden sound.

  "Do we have time for pictures?" David asked, getting out.

  I smiled. "We have all the time in the world."

  "Thanks!" He pulled out the tripod and began to unclamp the sections. He grabbed one of the cameras, fished out a big lens; in a couple moments he began to click pictures. I heard him make appreciative sounds. I left him and walked a little ways off where I could relax the hold on my magic.

  A couple Brewer's blackbirds paced near the trashcan searching the ground for something to eat. I opened the trunk and grabbed a handful of grain. The rangers frown on feeding the local animals, but I needed more answers.

  "Good food," the two chorused when I came near and surreptitiously dropped some grain.

  "What's got the big horns upset? What's everyone upset about?"

  The two birds walked in circles around the handful of grain, pecking at a piece here and there, though not answering.

  They might not know anything. They didn't appear very upset, which helped settle my nerves. I took the moment to reach out to trace the magic in the area. Most of the feel appeared to be out around Terra Tomah Mountain, and maybe Mount Julian -- far off from the road. I could sense The Edge even with the sun fully up. Usually wild magic is more active at night. This made me uneasy.

  David finished and began putting the equipment in the car. I sent the birds scattering and walked back.

  "Thanks. I enjoyed this."

  "This is a great spot. We can return in the morning and maybe see them coming down the mountain. It's spectacular to watch them leaping from spot to spot," I said, pointing to the opposite side of the road. "You think they're going to fall off the side of the mountain, but I've never even seen one of them even trip."

  "I'd like to see them."

  "Good. Don't worry about stopping to take pictures, either. Let me know and we'll stop. I'm in no hurry. We have all day. And you're here to get pictures."

  "I got some great shots."

  "We don't have far to go to the next stop." I got into the car and he took his seat. "Endovalley is a lovely area. We'll probably see a few elk."

  "Great!"

  I drove slowly along the road that turned off to the right, heading past the alluvial fan created by the Big Thompson flood in 1976. Huge boulders had rushed down the mountain when the high dam broke. I tried not to remember the tragedy and the people who had died in the horrific flood.

  We stopped so he could take some pictures here, too. I was glad because I knew the set of magpies that almost always held court along the trail leading to the platform near the falls. I let David go ahead while I paused by the noisy birds.

  "Bad, bad, bad!" they screeched loudly. I winced, trying to urge them to be quiet. Their large black tails flicked left and right and their wings spread to show flashes of white, as though they intended to take off at any moment.

  "Tell me what --"

  "Bad!" The cry came again and again until the sound drew even David to look our way.

  I didn't think I would get anything more from them. I joined David for the walk to bridge and the view of the falls. Water dipped and flew below us, sparkling in the light, dancing over the rocks and down to the Horseshoe Park area below. The weather had warmed enough over the last week to get some of the high mountain snow melt, which made the rush of water more powerful than we would see later in the year. Bits of fog sent tendrils into the chilly morning air. David pulled his jacket collar closer though he didn't appear inclined to leave. He took pictures of the falls, the alluvial fan of rock, close-ups of the water. He even caught a Harrier hawk gliding down toward the marshlands below us.

  David acted like the proverbial kid in a candy shop who wanted to taste everything. I let him take his time. He asked questions and I even knew most of the answers. When I wrote my first articles, I wanted to know everything about the area, from the names of the birds to the wildflowers growing through the last tuffs of winter snow.

  Some tourists arrived and David talked to them for a couple minutes before we headed to the car. The magpies screamed at me and half a dozen gray jays had joined them. You don't often see those jays gathered in groups, and certainly not in the company of magpies.

  I wanted to ask questions -- though I suspected I knew what was upsetting them -- the same thing that kept unsettling me. I could feel far too much magic in the air this morning. I could almost taste magic, though nothing aimed or even fully realized which was lucky for everyone. Cars would have stalled and the town probably lost power if the magic gathered any cohesion. The feel already made my skin itch.

  "Want to walk from here?" I asked when we reached the car. "The gate isn't too far to the end of the road, then a couple miles up to Chasm Falls. And I do mean up in this case."

  "Sure, walking would be great!" He put the backpack on and carried the tripod like a walking stick.

  "Do you get into the mountains very much?" I asked as we hiked out along the road. Stands of aspen stood to the left past a grassy open area. To the right the mountain sloped down to the road in gentle rolls. Birds flittered about there and I could hear distant calls. Some sounded panicked while others seemed all too calm.

  "I go hiking in the Appalachians every year. I spent a few weeks in Yellowstone, too. I kind of expected this to be more like Yellowstone."

  "The park has a flavor all its own. The place can get hectic in the summer with all the tourists, though."

  A couple elk charged down the hillside, dashing into the marsh area as we neared. David didn't even get his camera lifted in time to catch them.

  Toward the end of the road rock walls came down on the right side and brush and bushes grew around puddles of water on the left. We saw more elk and he got a couple pictures this time. A marmoset even waddled by, giving us an evil eye since we disturbed him. We found a car parked by the gate which closed off Old Fall Ri
ver Road. I'd never actually seen the road open, though I often walk along this way.

  "There's something here you might want to see first."

  I took him off to the left into the picnic area where snow melt brooks ran right to the edge of the tables. The reflection of the trees and dappled light made this one of the prettiest little spots in the park. The water ran a bit high and we splashed around, surprising a couple raccoons. They raced into the tree and stared while David took more pictures. He was going to have quite a collection before we even got the first day done. He'd changed film twice already.

  "This is lovely. Thank you." David smiled.

  I would have thought there was love in the air if I hadn't known it was just far too much magic.

  Chapter Four

  We headed to the closed road, went past the blockade and started up the steep incline. David re-adjusted his camera bag a couple times though the weight didn't slow him. We made good time along the solitary path with David asking me more about the trees, plants and birds along the way.

  We hiked for a couple hours, pausing to take pictures and to discuss the area. When we reached the spectacular Chasm Falls, I knew David would be busy just from the look on his face. I regretted not having brought in a picnic lunch. We could have spent all day.

  Chasm Falls pours down between two high cliffs, as though the water cut straight through the rock and down to the pool below, where the stream cascades over more rocks. David immediately took out the Hasselblad and prepared for some serious photography. I settled in the open sunlight, where I took a few notes of my own while watching the birds flying around -- not as panicked, I thought. I even saw a badger peek out from the shadow of the trees. As soon as he saw me, though, he ducked back in.

  A couple minutes later I saw the badger return. The animal moved clumsily through the shadows, and when I stood to get a better look, the animal glanced my way and moved into the underbrush.

  I sat down and discreetly kept watch. A few minutes later the badger returned, obviously watching us. I even saw his paw tapping the ground in either a nervous or bored reaction.