Wild Life
Authors: Cynthia DeFelice
To Buzz and Josie, and our adventures on
the North Dakota prairie
“I passed!” Erik Carlson flew through the back door and into the dark kitchen hollering, “Mom! Dad! I passed!”
The screen door slammed shut behind him, rattling the cups in the dish drainer, causing the cat to leap from his perch on the windowsill and head for cover in the pantry closet.
“Oh, Crenshaw, don't be such a scaredy-cat,” Erik called over his shoulder as he ran through the room.
He liked Crenny well enough when she decided to sit on his lap and allow herself to be petted, but she wasn't nearly as much fun as his best friend Patrick's English setter, Hot Spots. Hot Spots was a champion bird dog. If she couldn't be hunting, she loved nothing more than hanging out with Patrick and Erik, fetching a ball or a stick, or learning just about any trick they felt like teaching her.
Crenshaw was named after one of Erik's father's favorite golf champions. Mr. Carlson didn't actually play golf, but he enjoyed watching it on television, something Erik just couldn't understand. Playing golf looked slow and boring enough. Watching it on TV, with the announcers speaking in hushed voices and sounding like they were spies discussing high-level national secrets, felt to him like torture. He enjoyed
doing
stuff, like building the tree fort he and Patrick were making in the woods behind Erik's house. He preferred games where he got to
move
; to run, swing a bat, toss a ball, or shoot something.
“Mom! Dad!” he called again. “Where are you guys?”
When there was no answer he went to the living room where his parents sat, Dad in his La-Z-Boy, Mom on the couch.
“Hey, what are you doing, sitting in the dark?” Without waiting for an answer, he flipped on the light switch and continued. “Guess what! I passed! I got the highest grade in the whole class, and Patrick got the second highest. We did better than the grownups, even!”
Erik and Patrick had been taking a New York State Hunter Safety course. He waved the certificate and held up a wallet-sized card. “See? It's official! Patrick and I can go hunting with his dad! Junior hunters can go out a week before opening day, and that's this coming weekend!”
He stopped for a second to catch his breath and noticed, for the first time, the strained smiles on his parents' faces.
There was a long pause before his mother said, “It's terrific you did so well in the course, honey.”
“Congratulations, Erik,” said Dad. “Let me see that.”
Erik handed the certificate over, and an uneasy silence filled the room. He had the feeling that although his dad was looking at the piece of paper in his hands, he wasn't really seeing it. Erik's mother's eyes were on her lap, where her hands were balled into tight fists. The air felt heavy with things that weren't being said.
“What's going on?” Erik asked.
His parents looked at each other as if trying to decide who would answer, and the silence drew out even longer.
His mother sighed, and his dad placed the certificate carefully on the table beside his chair.
“We have something to tell you, Erik,” said Dad.
His mother patted the cushion next to her on the couch. “Sit down.”
Erik didn't want to sit down. He didn't like the sound of this at all. A terrible list of possibilities was running through his head: either his mother or father had contracted some horrible disease, or they were getting a divorce like his friend Mark's parents, or maybe it was Erik himself who had the disease. He had just had a physical for school. Maybe the doctors had found somethingâ¦
“I might as well come right out with it,” said his dad. “We've been called up. We're being deployed to Iraq.”
Erik stared dumbly at his father.
“I know how you feel, honey,” said his mom. “It came as a shock to us, too. We thought that, as reservists, well, we hoped this wouldn't happen. But the war's dragged on so long”âshe shrugged helplesslyâ“and now we're needed.”
Erik was having trouble believing his ears. His parents had been staff sergeants in the Army Reserves his entire life. To Erik, it was no big deal. They each reported for duty one weekend a month. They did drills and performed fitness exercises. They took classes to update the skills the Army had trained them for. Their specialty was training other soldiers and preparing them for duty.
And, while he'd always known that there was a chance his parents would be deployed, heâand theyâhad never really believed it would happen. They knew other reservists who, like his parents, had been in the Army thirty years or more and never been called up. Why his parents? Why now?
As he struggled to put his chaotic thoughts into words, his father went on. “We'll be training Iraqi soldiers and MPs so they'll be ready to take over when our military leaves. It's taking longer than expected to get the locals up to speed. Lots of guys have served several tours already. So”âhe spread his handsâ“it's our turn, buddy.”
“Butâ
both
of you have to go?”
“It's unusual, but, well, we've got the training, and we're needed.”
There were so many questions Erik wanted to ask. “What about your jobs?” His mom was a nurse and his dad was a mechanic at a Toyota dealership.
“The hospital's already been notified,” said Mom. “And your dad told the guys at the garage today. They're not happy about losing us right now, but they know it's just the way it is. We'll have jobs when we come back, honey, don't worry about that.”
“Butâ” Erik couldn't seem to stop saying that.
“It's all very sudden, I know,” Mom said, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze.
“They try to give people more notice than this,” Dad said. “But we serve at the need of the Army. They can't always keep up with changing demands. An order comes down, and it's got to be met.”
“How long will you be gone?” Erik asked in a small voice.
“Six months is what they're telling us,” said Dad. “But that could change. It could be longer.”
Erik was quiet as the enormity of his parents' news began to sink in. Finally he forced himself to ask, “What about me?”
His parents exchanged a glance. “You know the Army requires us to have a family care plan,” his mother said.
Erik vaguely remembered his parents talking to him about this, but it had been a long while ago and, at the time, it hadn't seemed important. “Yeah, I guess. But I forget what it is.” He had a sudden thought. “Can I stay with Patrick?”
“No, honâ” Mom began, but Erik interrupted her.
“I bet his parents would let me! I could call right now and ask.”
He took a step toward the phone, but his mom said, “Erik, no. I'm sure that Patrick's mother would be happy to have you. But you know she just had the new baby, and on top of that, they've taken in Patrick's grandmother, who requires a lot of Mrs. Holt's attention. It's just too much to ask right now. Especially for such a long time.”
“We have to stick to our plan,” said Dad. “I'm not sure we'd even be able to change it at this point. You'll be going out to stay with Oma and Big Darrell.”
Oma and Big Darrell were his mother's parents, who lived in North Dakota. Erik couldn't believe his ears.
“But I don't even know them!”
“Oh, Erik, you remember when we went out to visit,” said Mom.
“I was three years old! That was nine years ago! I don't remember anything about it, and I sure don't remember them.”
“Well, you've spoken to them on the phone since then.”
“Yeah, on Christmas and my birthday. âHappy Birth day. How's school? Goodbye.'”
“There's no need to be sarcastic.” His mother looked at him pleadingly. “Honey, the Army wants you to be with family and so do we. Your father's parents have both passed on. There's no one else.”
After a few beats of silence, Erik said sulkily, “I don't even know where North Dakota is.” This was a slight exaggeration. He knew it was one of those big block-shaped states out west somewhere.
Dad got out the road atlas and opened it to the map that showed the whole United States. With his finger, Erik traced the route from upstate New York, where he lived, to Fortuna, North Dakota. “That's really far,” he said glumly.
“Not as far as your mother and I are going,” Dad answered, in a failed attempt to sound jolly.
“How am I going to get there?”
“You'll fly out.”
“How long will
that
take?”
“All day.”
“All day!” Erik turned to his mother for help. “Mom, I'll go nuts sitting in an airplane all day!”
“It will actually be three different airplanes, Erik. Company resource personnel looked into it today. Your flights are booked.”
Erik groaned. “What if I get on the wrong plane by mistake and end up inâ¦in⦔ He paused, trying to think of a place more remote and less appealing than North Dakota, but couldn't come up with one.
“The airline people won't let you get lost,” Mom said calmly.
Erik searched his brain for another argument. Then he had it! “What about school? There's no way I can be out of school for that long. I'll get way behind in everything.”
“You don't need to worry about your schoolwork,” Dad answered, as if that was Erik's actual concern. “Your grandmother will be enrolling you in school out there. And your records are being sent, so they'll know which classes to put you in.”
“When do Iâweâhave to leave?”
“You leave on Friday,” Mom said quietly. “Our flight leaves Saturday morning, and we want to take you to the airport and see you off.”
Erik was stunned into speechlessness. His parents had said it was sudden. He'd heard them say the Army tried to give people more advance notice before they were deployed. But he'd never imagined his parents would be leaving this soon. “Wait,” he said when he had recovered. “Today is Monday, right? Friday's only four days awayâ”
His parents looked at him with sympathy. “It's rough, I know,” said Dad.
“Hey!” Erik said. “I can't goâPatrick and I have almost finished building the tree fort. We're going to sleep out the night after we goâ” He stopped suddenly, remembering something. Something huge. Something that made leaving on Friday impossible.
“No!”
he shouted. “I
can't
go on Friday! I'm going hunting with Patrick this weekend, remember?”
A pained expression passed over his dad's face. “I know how much you've been looking forward to that, Erik. I'm proud of how well you did in that course you took, and Patrick's dad tells me you're getting to be a pretty good shot. I'm really sorry, buddy. But there's always next year.”
“Next year!”
Erik exploded with frustration. “Dad, I've been waiting practically my whole life for this. Mr. Holt says there are grouse all over the place and he knows where there's a bunch of pheasants, too.
This
is the year! Not next year.
Now
.”
His parents shrugged helplessly. Erik knew there was nothing more they could say. For a while longer, he asked questions and his parents did their best to give cheery answers. But it was clear to him that they didn't know for certain what the future had in store for them, or for him, and that there was nothing he could do to change what was going to happen.
Finally, his mother said tiredly, “It's late, Erik, and you have school in the morning.” It was a sign of how upset she was that she didn't even ask if he had homework. Not that it mattered now, Erik thought.
Upstairs, he lay on his bed, hating the Army and trying to plan how he might manage to run away from home before his parents could put him on a plane to North Dakota.
Like Patrick's pet gerbil Atlas when he got running on his wheel, Erik's brain kept circling round and round, going nowhere. He could hardly get his mind around the idea that he was going to have to live in North Dakota. What did seem realâhorribly realâwas that he wasn't going to be able to go hunting on Saturday. He'd been dreaming of it for as long as he could remember. He'd had to work hard to convince his mother to allow it.
When he'd first brought up the subject, his dad had shrugged and said it was okay with him, even though he didn't have any interest in hunting birds himself. But his mother had said, “Absolutely not. You're too young to handle a gun. And why do you want to shoot some poor wild creature that's never done you any harm? It's not as if you're starving, after all.”
Well, no, he wasn't starving. But that wasn't the point. Erik had to think hard about how to explain it so she would understand.
“Sometimes,” he began, “I wish it was still pioneer times. Kids really got to
do
things back then.”
His mother looked puzzled. “Like what?”
“
Real
stuff. Important stuff. Stuff they needed to do to
survive.
”
His mother nodded slowly.
He went on. “When Patrick and I camp out, we pretend we're living back in the old days. And when we're hammering and sawing on the tree fort, we pretend we're building it for shelter and we've got to hurry because winter's coming soon. We talk about how we're going to go hunting because, obviously, pioneers can't go to the grocery store to get meat. We're trying to learn all about the woods, and about the animals. Like back in the old days, when people and animals were part of the same world, you know?”
He had stopped then, feeling frustrated. He had a perfectly clear idea in his head, which made total sense to
him
, but when he tried to talk about it, it sounded dumb.
Maybe he had explained it better than he thought because, to his surprise, his mom had said she'd think about it.
And that was how he had ended up taking the hunter safety course with Patrick. There, they had learned everything they might ever need to know about handling a shotgun: how to load and unload it, how to clean it, walk with it, even how to climb over a fence with it. They learned never to assume a gun was empty, never to point a gun anywhere near another person, and never to shoot unless they could see clearly and were two hundred percent sure what they were aiming at.
Patrick's dad also began taking them to his sportsmen's club to shoot saucer-shaped targets called clay pigeons. The clay “birds” were launched from all different directions, and Erik and Patrick learned to stay alert and ready. Mr. Holt said it was good training for the field, since one never knew when a real bird might go up, or what it might do.
With each trip to the range, they'd become better and better shots. When he began to hit many more targets than he missed, Erik felt great. It was about the most fun he'd ever had. Actual hunting was going to be even more funâand now he was going to miss out. He'd come so close. It was unbelievably unfair.
Snatches of his parents' conversation drifted up the stairs, and Erik's bitter thoughts were interrupted when he heard his name.
“I can't help worrying about Erik, going out there,” his mother said. “You know how my father is. Ever sinceâ” Her voice grew muffled as she walked from the living room into the kitchen, and Erik strained to hear. “âand I got out of there as soon as I could, and never looked back. I just wishâ” Her voice grew low again and he missed what came next.
“It's been a long time,” his father replied. “Maybe things have changed.”
His mother murmured something Erik didn't catch. Then he heard, “ânothing I did helped. Nothing I did seemed to matter at all. Looking back, I guess joining the Army Reserves was a way of trying to get his attention.” She gave a rueful laugh. “It didn't work, but at leastâ” Again, her voice faded out.
The next thing Erik heard was his dad saying, “Well, I'm hoping Erik might feel differently about it. There's nothing he likes more than being outdoors⦔
His mom said, “And goodness knows there's a lot of outdoors in North Dakota.”
After that, they started talking about what Erik would need while he was away, what he should pack and what they would ship. Then they discussed closing up the house and making plans for Crenshaw, and Erik stopped listening. He stared at the wall, puzzling over the things he'd overheard his mother say, and wondering about the things she'd said that he
hadn't
been able to hear.
His eyes came to rest on a sketch that hung over his dresser. His mom was attending an adult drawing class, and when he had said how much he liked one of her first pictures, she had framed it for him. In it, she had sketched in pencil a flock of Canada geese in flight. The simple lines captured everything Erik loved about seeing the V-shaped formations of geese in the sky: their freedom, their grace, and the way they flew together, taking turns as the leader.
Around the geese, in careful, flowing calligraphy, his mother had written:
Do the geese have dreams? Do they make plans as they fly? Do you? How will you live your own wild life?
Erik hadn't really thought about the words before, but he contemplated them now. Did he have plans for his life? It seemed a cruel question. He had
planned
on finishing the tree fort and going hunting with Patrick. He'd
planned
on his life staying the way it was, before he'd walked in the door and learned he was being exiled to North Nowhere.
What good did it do a kid to make plans? Kids' lives didn't belong to them. Grownups made all the decisions, and kids just had to do what they were told.
