How The Wild Sees Wildfire

It rained ash for days. Coating everything and making food and clean water scarce. She didn’t know what fire was, she had never seen it before, but she knew it wasn't good. The last few days she had just kept moving, away from the smoke that never seemed to quit. Her sensitive nose quivered and twitched, smoke filling her lungs. She coughed, and stamped her feet. The fire moved faster than a coyote, and she did her best to outrun it.

She worked her way through the bramble, stepping carefully but quickly. A fox ran past her, and it didn't even look at her. Tilting her head she watched it race away. Maybe she should go faster, that fox might know something she didn’t.

Coming to the edge of the creek, she looked upstream and down. There were creatures everywhere, squirrels and chipmunks, rabbits and mink, falling out of the bushes and trees, and landing in the babbling brook. This water wasn’t deep enough to submerge themselves in, and most of the animals kept running. She stood there, waiting for something, someone, anyone. And no one came.

A young wolf raced past her, and her heart leapt into her throat. Leaping away and downstream, fearing for her life, she saw the wolf was just as scared as she was, and it clambered up the bank and south into the forest. Strange, that wolf should have shown interest in her.

Thunderous explosions rang out, booming through the branches at her, rattling leaves and trembling the ground. She ran. High, graceful, long bounces. She could cover ground faster than most of the other panicked animals racing along with her. Over her shoulder, she saw the red of the flames. A black bear cub was crying his way along, trying his best to keep up to his momma. His mother roared at him, to hurry, HURRY, and he stepped up his speed with a wailing cry.

She fell, legs akimbo, off a small ledge. She had been paying too much attention to the poor baby bear, and she hadn’t seen this coming. Crashing to her chest, she struggled. Her long spindly legs were tangled beneath her, twisted into the roots of the tree that loomed above her. Lurching back and forth, she gave a little shout, a call for help, but no one came. Taking a breath, she looked at her predicament, and realized she had no feeling in her front left leg. If a deer could swear, this one did.

Thudding onto her head, an overweight raccoon had fallen just as she had, and its impact broke the roots beneath them. Shrieking in a way that only raccoons can, it’s fur was mostly burnt away, it's skin and flesh blistered red and weeping. This was how she would end up, if they didn’t break free of this mess. Giving all her energy into a lunging jump, she tried one last leap of faith, and she was free. The burned raccoon and the broken deer, limped forwards, taking their separate paths to escape. The fire was only feet behind them.

Running out of hope, or even a way out, the smoke was so thick she couldn’t see. She could only run, three legs would do just fine, the front left leg she kept tight to her chest. It was loud, it was hot, she was scared this was it. This was worse than being eaten, this was the unknown hot beast that consumed the entire forest. Blind, choking, and broken, her hooves suddenly clacked onto pavement.

All her life she had known to stay away from this part of the world. The hard concrete under her hooves was a clear sign of danger, but it wasn’t as bad as the fire beast raging behind her. She kept going, clipping along like a small pony. The thirst within her was fierce, she needed water to keep her going. A small gravel road appeared beside her, and she took it.

Looking back she saw that the dangerous pavement had stopped the fire beast, at least for the moment, and there were two legged creatures running and shouting. She kept going. Creeping quietly, she heard voices up ahead. Those two legged creatures again, she knew to stay away from them too. They were just as unpredictable as the fire beast.

She saw the barn then, just beyond the little cottage, where she heard the voices. They were loud, and stressed. She didn’t know words, but she knew stress. She was a bit stressed herself. Picking up her gait, she limped past the cottage, and took shelter in the barn.

Water, she could smell it, it was here and it would save her life. Through the shadows she stepped, quiet as a mouse. Ears turning this way and that, waiting for a sign of danger. None came, and she saw the glimmering bucket. Full to the brim with water. She lowered her head and drank deeply.

A snort above her, beside her, it was so loud it seemed all around her. She raised her head, ears low, and came nose to nose with one of the largest creatures she had ever seen. The bull held her gaze, knowing she was running from the fire, and knowing she needed safety. He was a smart bull, a kind old man that had spent a good life in these fields.

There was no fear here, no adrenalin, no danger. She could be safe with this gigantic bovine, she knew this without being told. The bull turned his great body away from her, his two long horns almost spanning half the barn’s breezeway. His huge hooves landed on the packed dirt with a rumble, and she knew she was to follow him.

Slowly, but surely, as doggedly as a bull can walk, they left the big barn, and crossed the field. Down the hill, at the bottom of a slight sloping meadow, there was a corral. It was full of animals, of almost every kind. Predators and prey alike. The drinking troughs were full of water, some animals drinking, some laying in them half submerged, cooling their singed bodies.

More explosions rang out up the hill behind them, back to where the house had been. Down the valley sides, ringing and echoing over the roar of the fire, the booms were deafening. The creatures could see the fire moving down the mountainside, clearing a black pathway behind it. The bull snorted again, and the deer looked at him. He had brought them all to safety, hadn’t he, she realized.

Looking again at the tired and terrified animals, she walked into the corral. There were more deer, over on the side of the fence. Fawns, and some with antlers. Hope soared back into her heart like a hawk, sharp and fast. Were these her babies, was this her family she had lost back there in the chaos? She limped over to them, the fawns sleeping curled up at their fathers feet.

Hearing her, or possibly smelling her scent, they woke suddenly, eyes quick to find her. It was them, her children, and she fell to her knees, the broken leg screaming in agony, but she didn’t notice. This was all she could hope for, her young ones here and not cremated alive. These babies were her sole purpose.

The sun was setting behind the mountain top, red as an alien planet. The smoke would obscure it and darkness would fall, like night in alaska, and then the wind would shift, making the air glow red again from the alien sun.

The bull stood on the edge of the corral, surveying his work. He had known this would happen. He had been in a fire when he was quite small, and had the scar to prove it. Down his left haunch grew no hair, bare, and spotted skin, taught and wrinkled with scar tissue. It gave him a slower gait, and a bit of a gangster walk. He was a boss now, boss of the farm. Boss of this valley, too. He lowered himself to the ground, tired from rounding up scared fauna. They say animals know things, and he certainly did.

In the dusk of the apocalyptic evening, they all began to relax, sleep coming easily, as wild animals don’t have things like insomnia and 'work tomorrow' to worry about. The night came and went, not much disturbing it except the crackle and snapping hiss of the fires' wake, around them on all sides.

As the morning crept up on them, so did a young boy. He had escaped his mothers grasp sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and taken off running. Through the trees and down his road. He could hear her shouting, but he did not listen. The swath of burned destruction wasn’t even on his radar, though it surrounded him. Down both sides of the country road, it was like the end of the world. He came to his driveway, out of breath, coughing into a bandana over his mouth, and not slowing down. The sun hadn’t quite crested, and he had but one thing on his mind.

The bull.

That bull was the boy’s best friend, and the boy would not be able to cope with losing him. He saw the cottage had burned down, his family’s home, and his little heart broke a bit at the sight. All those toys, gone forever. Pulling his eyes away from the wreckage, knowing his mom would buy him more, he headed towards the barn. Tip toeing through the breezeway, peering into the shadows, he could see the bull wasn’t in any of the stables.

Calling out his name, the boy whistled. Nothing responded. The farm was quiet, save the crinkle of burning debris all around. The boy moved into a trot, and started across the meadow towards the corral. He crossed his little fingers, holding them behind his back, hoping maybe the bull was there.

Coming down the meadow, his large brown eyes, red from the smokey air, grew wide. There was his bull, but there were also so many more. A family of deer, huddled together, a murder of crows on the fence line, and a few peacefully sleeping horses. The neighbours dog was there, along with a half dozen coyotes, and foxes. He could see a few raccoons, bunnies, and curled up alongside his sleeping behemoth best friend, a little family of kittens.

His bull had not only kept himself safe and alive, but the boy knew the bull had also helped these other creatures. He walked over to him, and laid his hand on his head. The bull grunted, a soft sound so as not to wake the sleeping cats. He raised his head slightly, and looked into the boy's earnest face. The boy pressed his forehead between the great beast's eyes, and cried. Leaning in, and throwing his arms around this gentle giant, he fell into his lap. The kittens rearranged themselves, and the motley crew fell asleep again.

The sunlight began to grow, ever so slight and ever so red. The fire had passed, they had survived, and another day had come around.