New Birds

Show Time Part 6

It was show time. The start of three straight days, and he was already perspiring and irritable and wishing for a restart. He should have left for Calgary hours ago, but Tilly had lost the chick during the night, and she was now down to one incubating egg. Her quiet sobs had preoccupied his thoughts all morning. When he tried to comfort her, it only led to another argument, where she accused him again of thinking only about himself and his storks. She simply refused to see that he was trying to be sympathetic, while under a lot of pressure to get Simon to the show and settled in. As it was, it took him practically forever to capture and load Simon into the U-Haul trailer, even with Heidi's help and several choice pieces of rat. The trailer was another worry, with its rusted bolts, problematic hitch and huge flakes of blacken metal that he could pretty much put his hand through in spots. Not only was it no longer safe to transport his birds in, but it also reflected poorly on him as a professional. Having a great fowl was only part of the whole. There were many other aspects of showmanship that were just as important and it irked him that the bigger and healthier his birds got, the less pageantry he had to surround them with.

If Simon won.

No, this was the wrong attitude. When Simon won, Louis would take a small amount of the prize money and repair the trailer. And once repaired, he would paint it. A shiny metallic black with SToRKs painted white on the sides. In all caps except for the o. Clear but small lettering against the black to give the impression of sophistication. He would make other improvements around here too. Hell, he might even hire someone to help him straighten the aviary. But if he didn't leave right now, he might not make the cut-off time for registration. He also wasn't cherishing the thought of possibly arriving in Calgary after dusk. It was hard enough to maneuver through that city in the light of day with its checkpoints, security detours, and peculiar, no-entry neighbourhoods.

Louis threw his rucksack into the front seat of the Hummingbird and climbed in behind the wheel. His finger was still resting against the push start when he noticed Tilly approaching.

He called out to her harsher than he intended, "What is it? I'm late."

"I want to wish you luck and to remind you to take care." She didn't wait for a response but leaned in and gave his forehead a peck before turning on her heels and heading back towards the house. He watched her. Tilly in a ragged white poncho, with the walk of a much younger person. Earlier this morning, she was inconsolable. Now she was all business again with her head high, back straight. Above all else, Tilly was resilient.

He shouldn't have spoken so harshly. Especially after she had handed him the entry fee without a single negative word regarding his chances. Which, now that he thought on it, was unusual, especially since Simon was still acting up, albeit slightly less so. All she talked about was her lost chick and Keitin's annoying habit of making everything complicated. He knew to keep his mouth shut about her lawyer because if he had shown any agreement, she would have found it necessary to defend Keitin. The chick, on the other hand, he felt horrible about, and wished now he had said something more consoling to her than can this wait until I return from the show. I want to stay positive. Things sort of went sideways for him after that. But now, as he watched his wife walk back to the bunker, he decided she was right. He was far too focused on his own gains and had not provided enough concern over her charge.

This he vowed to correct. He would help her. Perhaps, by putting their heads together they could come up with a solution to save her cranes. He would give her a section of the aviary, if he could find enough extra netting. Of course, again, this would all have to wait until he returned from The Late Minister.

He started the motor, checked in back for the spare battery in case he failed to find an electricity supplier, and started off down the road towards the gate. He planned to stop for a small bottle of Hay River Rye once he got past the foothills since Tilly had been kind enough to provide him with a little extra in the entry fee envelope. He wasn't relishing the thought of pushing his way through his old religious sect, the Lambs of the Lord, who usually had followers stationed outside every spirit house from here to the floodwaters. The possibility of bumping into his father was small, but at this late stage, it would do neither of them good to meet up again. That was if his father was alive and still active within the sect. Still, Louis was anticipating the need for a drink to get him through the next few days, either to keep him composed if things went well, or to sate him if they didn't.