Desert Visions

When life seems to close up around me, I like to hop on my motorcycle and head for the desert. You can't hear the call properly in the urban jungle, and with solstice getting close, I knew it was time to take a few days off work and get out.

I made it to my claim before lightning flickered on the far side of the mountain. It gave me enough time to set up a snug little camp. There's a thicket of barrel cacti I use; not even coyotes mess with those wicked hooked barbs. And it's well above the arroyos, though I would have some trouble getting back out. There's at least two washout zones on return, and a neighboring claimant who gets rather touchy about anyone approaching near his stake. He'd just have to live with my presence, I guess. We have an "understanding." I just hope he remembers that before he starts shooting.

I'd wrapped my bike in waterproof tarps before I crawled into my popup. It's nothing special, since I don't have enough money to jazz it up. No, I'm not gonna make my fortune from my little claim. It's a place to do some dry panning, a little digging, maybe come up with a bit of silver and some turquoise. I might be related to some of the more famous names to strike it rich out there, but I was born on the wrong side of the bed, if you catch my drift. I'm not heir to their fancy castles and bank accounts. This area played out on the big stuff long ago, but there are still hat mines with some nice hard blue turquoises to sell after I set them. Yeah, I see you staring at my pendant, it's one I mined myself.

So, you know, you see things out there in the desert. You will get visions, with the heat waves visibly rising off the floor far below. It collects in pools and eddies before wafting upwards in shining waves. Once, I swear I saw a mermaid swim out of one, with the sun shining on each scale. She was waving at me, but vanished before I could wave back. Puts a pang in your heart, seeing stuff like that.

Do you believe in fairies? Well, I now I carry a horseshoe, just in case. Can't "touch grass" out there, there's no such thing in the Sonora. And I don't recommend petting the plants, either, because they bite back. You only pull jumping cholla spines out of your flesh once before you figure that out.

Back to the storm. The light show was mighty pretty, but they play out fast. The ground was dry by dawn. You don't waste water in the morning out there - swallow toothpaste to keep the liquid in your body. No comb for your hair, either, just run your hand through it a few times. Who'd I have to look pretty for? It's not like I have that much up top anymore anyways.

I travel light. Food and water, that's the majority of the weight, and it goes right into you. I keep a shovel stashed up at my claim, with a few other tools. Wrap 'em well in oilcloth and bury 'em where you can retrieve 'em. I mark it with a stone that I carefully check for visitors before moving it, and still use a metal hand rake to do it. Scorpions and rattlers don't give a pitoot where you keep your tools, or where you make a latrine, for that matter.

I got some nice rough out of a pocket I'd been eyeing for a while, and I was pleased with my morning. But after lunch and a lot of hot sun, I was almost missing my fan and A/C unit back in the city. Almost.

Well, there's a mine shaft a bit up and over from my spot. Old silver mine, played out, but I can still find some decent stuff in the tailings. Don't look at me like that, I know the owner, and he doesn't care. He knows I'm respectful. He shows up sometimes, and brings a nice bottle of whiskey, and if I'm there, we'll swap stories under a full moon. You don't waste firewood out there either, there's not enough room to port it up on a bike. Full moon's better. Come on out with me sometime, and you'll see.

Anyway, I filled a backpack with food and water. Always carry some with you, if you leave your site! It's nice and cool in the entrance. I don't go too far back, because those old mines are freaking dangerous. The timbers are none too steady, and there ain't no cell reception up there to call for help. Lots of trash and broken stuff, like a smashed cart and a cog or two and a torn hat and a busted pickax. I leave the stuff alone. As far as I'm concerned, it belongs to the dead.

There's an old lantern on a hook, and I try to bring a bottle of oil and light it for remembrance. I know men died in that mine for someone else's riches; the least I can do is remember their sacrifice. And it's a cave, kinda, and there are snakes. I got some weird beliefs in the religion department, so let's just say I breathe a little prayer to Sigyn when I get there. Loki's wife, Norse goddess? Ah, check it out sometime, it's a good read. Hey, it's worked so far, I won't change it just 'cause it sounds funny. Out there, who's gonna hear me, anyway?

The tailings pile was just dropped there, right aside the entrance. So I plop on a rock nearby, convenient for sitting, and break open some rocks looking for a bit of shine. Well, there's a lot more to it than that, but I'd likely bore you to tears talking about silver ores and what they all look like. I've been doing this enough years to know what to look for, is all, and it soothes me to sit in the shade and crack some rocks open. Better than breaking heads open at work, since they tend to frown on that kind of stuff. I carry out the ore and process it and sell it, and it gets me that much closer to an early retirement.

Usually you see eagles up there, riding on the current. I was so into the rhythm of checking rocks that I didn't notice their absence. You gotta pay more attention to nature when you're out there.

The thing about geology is the old song. You know, one of these things is not like the other? You can find other stuff out there, like fossils and agates. But usually not up high on the mountain where I was, that's down in the valley or south or northwest. But when you're dealing with dark stones and see something pink and creamy, your eye's gonna get drawn to it. I saw something, and I reached for it, thinking, is that a jasp-

POP.

And I was flat on my back, finishing the word, -er?

Well, jaspers are nice and all, but seeing what I thought I saw? Glaring straight at me, popping her beak menacingly?

Since when do phoenixes take up residence in tailings piles?

She was beautiful, this phoenix. She was almost transparent, and everything was reflected rainbows. All of her, beak and feathers and claws. I got a good look at them, because she reared up a little bit to shake herself, then settle down again. That was an amazing sight! And that's when I realized what I thought was a jasper - was an egg. She tucked it back under, with the two already settled beneath her.

Oh boy. I know, if you can't believe it, how do you think I felt? I thought it must be heatstroke for sure. She sure didn't look like what they say in the stories.

Well, we stared at each other a while. She wasn't moving from her eggs, and I wasn't leaving. I didn't have my camera on me, that was down at camp on my phone, which was turned off to save battery life. And she hadn't moved the whole time I was breaking rocks, so I went back to it after a while. I tell you, she didn't even blink.

She really didn't move till I saw where the sun was, and broke some food out of my pack. Now that, she was interested in! So I shared some crackers with her, and even a little peanut butter, and put more in range for her to eat while I went back to my rock. She was a neat eater. The water went over a treat too. I put a lot in my cup and set it near her, while I drank the rest from the bottle.

I didn't want to leave, but I'm telling you, you don't want to spend the night exposed on a mountainside. It gets mighty cold up there. So I went back to my camp before the sunlight left the sky.

She was there the next morning. I spent the whole time up there with her, sharing food and water and breaking rocks. She seemed to get what I was looking for, and would shift sometimes to point at one or the other with her beak. Like, actually tapped on them with her beak. And dang me if she wasn't right, those were the heaviest rocks of all, meaning a lot of rich silver metal in the mix.

The third day, I heard muffled peeping, and three tiny popping cracks, and she moved enough for me to see her babies.

Now, I didn't know they could fly at birth. Who would believe me, anyway? But they came over for some more food and water, like they were tanking up for a long trip. They almost fought over the pretzels. They were off into the sky before I thought to say goodbye. I did wave, though.

And no, I didn't get any pics. Of what? Shimmer in the rocks? They're dang hard to see in daylight, though you saw the rainbows all over. That was pretty. Rainbows are blasted hard to photograph.

The shells were powder, so no proof there. But two things, which were a bit strange: there was a fossilized seashell in the nest. Nah, not like a scallop, those are found on the east coast. In the clay flats, in Maryland. No, this looked like those ammonites you find up north, in Canada. And it was opalized all over, and shimmered in every color of the rainbow. Opal is usually Australia's thing, little opalized shells are from our neighbor up north. This was a big one. I know how much those suckers are worth; that's secure in a safe. If I ever sell it, it'll be my version of a golden parachute. Sigyn knows I'll never see anything like that working for the suits in the city!

But the other - here, take a look.

Have you ever seen a feather look like that?