Laurasiateria Callisto was spoiled. She didn’t choose it or want any different treatment but thats just the way it was. Things that would get Enceladus Euarchontoglires slugged through a sheetrock wall by her father, got her non threatening warnings or even taken on a special outing by her grandparents to teach her the old stories and lore of the Lingít Aaní and Haida Gwaii surrounding them. She loved stories from the Hecate Straight about the Qalupalik, the green skinned witch who steals children walking too close to the shore after dark. There are more likely suspects like white men from the mainland.
The Kooshdaakaa… Ottermen, a race of shape shifting trixters who lure people near with cries of family members to eat them in the dark woods. There were several forms of wild man or Sasquatch here, the dog man, the bear man. These didn’t scare here since she was never out after dark. Hers was a world of mornings bathed in golden sunlight, sea spray and weaving baskets in forests full of bunnies, deer and foxes. Callisto likes to rescue baby birds thrown out of the nest. She has raised 3 to be well enough to be released. Sadly its a 50/50 attrition rate.
Her grandmother wasn’t the typical tribal matriarch. In her youth she was a rebel. Had left in the 1960s to join the American Indian Movement take over of Alcatraz while getting her masters at Berkeley. She has published numerous books on the culture, the wild life, lore and injustices done against the people of South East Alaska and the Inner Passage. Their cabin was like a library full of books on every subject and Callisto was an avid reader. Wanting to become a veterinarian, archeologist, astronaut and experimental surgeon someday. Callisto studies college level anatomy books on sea life, primeval forests and astronomy. She has a dozen telescopes her grandmas boyfriend gets from antique stores in Juneau and Sitka. Many with impressive brass dials and settings in Chinese, Russian and French.
She likes to draw shipwrecks and watch science documentaries. Today she is driving around with Grandma to get essentials for her friends that work as midwifes to help with home births. When grandma is busy, Callisto sneaks off to read a book in the attic about birth defects from weapons of war tested here. Since their tribe has no treaty, exposing them to decades of pollution and neglect by the US govt. It is a pictorial history of still born babies, the deformed and the history of medical experiments at the recently closed Naval base. All the land around them was occupied so by default they became Americans. Thinking about deformation and toxic waste spread by the military depressed her.
Grandma expressly forbid reading this book, but every time she hides it. Callisto finds it. Seems like throwing it away is too hard for Grandma, it must be tied to her research into what she calls… Chimera. Grandma is an advocate for Native women, going into hospitals and warning the girls against birthing in places known for sterilization, forced adoption and other things the doctors do to keep their Federal funding. There is a whole racket of taking babies from single mothers, migrants and people living in poverty. Sending their children to rich investors on the mainland who get huge kickbacks for raising them, the social workers and doctors get commissions. Its like a farm for breaking up families.
Today was a heavy day. Grandma isn’t sure Callisto should see this. So giving her a stack of Tolkien commentaries, Lloyd Alexander coloring books and some HP Lovecraft if she felt like something scary… she locked Callisto in the car with the radio on. Callisto wasn’t bad or doing it on purpose. But why stay in the car on a rainy day when less than 100 feet away there was a fabulous forrest, a drainage ditch out of the mountain that looked like a waterfall, and the sea shore across the highway, accessible through a tunnel under the road? Nothing scary was here besides seals and maybe a big sea lion. But they were slow and if she didn’t chase them, they would ignore her.
Once inside and away from the windows Callisto carefully took off her seat belt, found her raincoat and umbrella… walked to take the most cautious and well intentioned look at the sights. She sat near the waterfall where her grandma could see her. Looking for bright colored bugs under rocks and in the leaves. Growing bored of this, she moves on to looking for pollywogs in the drainage ditch. She had brought a brand new disposable camera. Taking the most scientific shots, saving the majority of the roll for later. Now she had to think if she really wanted to go past where her grandma could see her from the window. She was already out of bounds but not really in trouble like she would be walking under the highway to the beach.
Peering to see the birds and seals on the shore. She imagines all the fun she could have watching the boats go by to Haines and Skagway. Looking for shells and looking for nature spirits from the invisible world. Callisto knew why she was forbidden from the culverts and ocean alone. Flash floods, rogue waves, creepy guys. She knew never to talk to truckers, commercial fishermen from the trawlers or even outside family from the extended tribe. She would run away even if any busy body women looking like they wanted to raise a neglected Native girl, using her being alone as an excuse to kidnap her. There were some lonely rich white ladies stalking the area who would take her into a car headed over the state line just as sure as any pervert.
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She’s not sure if she should go so she went and knocked on the door and asked for some tea. Grandma was too busy birthing the baby, there was a problem and Grandma promised to take her for to pick wild berries if they were done before dark. One of the women at the birthing ceremony made her a tuna sandwich and gave her orange juice for being so good. Now that they were sure of where she was, she snuck out the kitchen and ran though the tunnel to the sea shore. She felt so guilty, but she was at an age where playing with dolls wasn’t her thing. She wanted real art supplies like wooden armatures to test movement, shading and colored pencils you could dab with rubbing alcohol to get advanced effects.
Here on the shore it was so worth it. The sun was beaming through the clouds. Pleasant bells rang from the deep water buoys. Far off a family of whales crested the water line to spout water and breathe the clean air. This was such a magical day. Callisto ran among seagulls hunting for burrowing shrimp in the sand. She sees some art carved in the sand stone. Faces and animals. Surf tribe messages in far out lettering, sharks, cephalopods, whale bones. Mystical motifs of goddesses, fantasy landscapes and UFO’s. Every week it was different. Hippies and researchers from the mainland came here for bon fires. Among the dirty sand she could see smoking wood and abandoned fishing gear.
Looking to the roof of the yellow victorian where the birthing ceremony was, she saw its peaked roof over the highway. Tracing her path all the way back to the drainage ditch and sees something bizarre. There is a a tribal dancer. A woman dressed as an owl. Not like a stylized pacific northwest owl, but like an actual owl. She was playfully skipping, swooping, gliding with her arms out. On her head was an owl headdress, her arms covered in feathers and her clothing was iridescent, made of shiny stones and beads. Ignoring her this women intently twirled and glided, kicking over piles of leaves and trash in the shadow of the highway. Callisto was intrigued. Feeling drawn closer almost by tractor beam.
She got with in 20 feet and called a greeting in the local dialect. The woman smiled and continued her dance. As the sun moved and the clouds broke the owl woman had an almost angelic visage. Her black, brown and grey feathers sparkled in the beam of warm sun looking almost like they were made of white gold and silver. She smiled and waved Callisto towards her. Enraptured by some deep instinct to learn the dance Callisto mimicked her movement, hopping, swooping, twirling. Taking her hand being spun around until her feet were off the ground. She stared into the golden eyes of his magical creature. There was nothing scary. Just an other worldly feeling that if she closed her eyes she would turn into a bird and fly away. This scared her and she let go, falling into the cold, damp sand.
The woman was gone with only the sound of angel’s wings taking flight. It was a jarring moment. Back in the real world where she sees her Grandmother’s angry face. She had discovered her gone and went looking in the most likely direction. Grandma pulled her roughly with out saying a word. Grandma was not a disciplinarian and just the realization she made her unhappy was enough to make Callisto bawl into tears. Holding her hand, bringing her up to the road. Waiting for traffic to be clear and walking swiftly back to the birthing house. Callisto wanted to say she went under the highway which was much safer but she knew silence was best.
In the dark of the main room. The women where gathered around a screaming mother. The birth was difficult and as grandma washed her hands, put on her medical gown and adjusted her head lamp, Callisto watched in awe this ritual of womanhood. She smelled strange odors of blood, amniotic fluid, incense, herbs and sacred oils. She women smiled at her as this was a traumatic thing to see to a child born. With a dismissive wave grandma sent her back to the kitchen at the first sign of trouble. Callisto had dry tears on her face and went back to pour some tea on the table. Hearing the women talking in their language. She picked up there was trouble. The baby was not in the correct position. Struggling to fix it, the women gasped as the baby came out malformed.
There were cries and grandmother’s soothing voice whispering. The mother holds a black shape. Callisto has silently walked back and sees something strange. The women all rock back and forth whispering prayers and remembering the traditions of the old ways. Walking into their midst and peering at the dead baby held tightly in the mothers arms. She couldn’t look away, the mother opened her eyes looking right at Callisto and says. “Look what they have done to us. Look what their poisons, their factories and their corporations took away…depleted uranium, agent orange, napalm, white phosphorus, nano thermite, fracking, micro plastics in our aquifers.”
Callisto sees something indescribable. A birth defect so profound and sad that words would do it injustice to describe. She wants to look away. Seeing a corrupted head and legs. Arms curled more like a chicken wing and a crab claw, chewed away in utero by the toxic ground water. The still born child was totally disfigured. One red eye far larger than her own, black flesh and extremities that looked like stone or an oyster shell. Hard and calcified. It was like a mummy but part of its belly was so normal where the umbilical cord lay. This baby could have been the next President, the next Einstein or Spielberg. Now it was there lifeless.
Callisto wanted to look away. She couldn’t. Like some urge to be part of this grief she reached forward. Putting her hand on the mothers forehead. Kissing her face and took the baby away. The mother unsure, then giving her the blanket the baby was in. The baby was so heavy. Callisto asked what was the name. The mother broke into an anguished cry and tried to not scream but caught her self and quietly said. “Willow Bird.” Callisto smiled and said. “That’s your name.” The baby opened its deformed eye and cried. The baby was alive. Every one stood in awe and Callisto smiled down at the little face. Thinking maybe the owl woman decided not to take this one away.