Chapter 12 Saying farewell to old man Snow
Fourteen people gathered together in Red and Jess's garden, to remember their friend, Snow. All were property owners who raised sheep and cattle along the edge of the mountain range.
Like a shadow, Prince stayed glued to Noah's side.
With his hair cut and wearing Adam’s clothes, Noah was less conspicuous now. Nevertheless, he felt awkward dressed in someone else's clothes. As if he wasn't himself. Rather, someone different. Different to himself. Different to Adam.
People were talking about him. He knew that, and it made him feel embarrassed. Thankfully, though, they were talking more about Snow and his sudden death up on the mountain.
Noah moved around the garden, as if in a dream. He passed beds of pink and purple petunias. He saw yellow pansies with their black faces turned towards the sun. He smelt freshly cut grass and heard the lazy hum of insects -- and conversation. Some sentences simply slid in one ear and out the other. Others his mind locked onto, however, later replaying them in his dreams.
"Old man Snow was a real loner. He never seemed to belong, no matter where he went."
"Except in the mountains. The rainforest was his home."
"I wonder what it was that pushed him away from people. Why he turned his back on society?"
"I heard he got badly hurt, fifty or more years ago. I think there was a girl involved. And a love affair. When it all turned sour, he went bush. He couldn't face people any more. Didn't trust anyone. Only animals and birds -- -- --."
"A broken heart can do that," said a woman, feeling in her pocket for a tissue.
In spite of being surrounded by people, Noah felt incredibly alone. More alone than he'd ever been in the mountains. He felt hollow inside and longed for his grandmother and the snug cosiness of their mountain home.
Just then, Adam joined him and Noah was brought back to the present. With Adam, words were not necessary. So the two boys stood quietly together, listening and taking in the scene.
"One morning I woke up to the sound of an axe chopping wood," said Jess, glancing around the garden to make sure everyone had a chair, "and there he was at the wood heap, splitting firewood. When Red went over and offered him breakfast, he wouldn't accept. Said he preferred bush food and could manage.
"All he wanted were a few boxes of matches and some salt. A tin of jam and some tea. He said he would never accept anything for nothing. That's why he chopped the wood."
"He never ate bread or biscuits or cakes," murmured a plump woman, patting her stomach.
"Or breakfast cereals or milk."
"He lived off the land," added Red, "but never used a gun. Fish, yabbies and wild duck were his main foods, with a bit of wild honey and spinach thrown in."
Other conversations floated about in the warm afternoon air.
"About ten years ago the old man fell out of a tree. He’d been collecting honey from a wild hive. He knocked out a few teeth and was badly concussed. But he refused to go to the doctor. He ended up -- --. "
"Another time," broke in a different voice, "he staked his arm on a dead branch. It looked dreadful! But he fixed it up with a poultice of blue clay and native berries."
"He was always doing things around our property. Mending broken fences and gates, pulling out noxious weeds. He said he was doing it for the sheep, so he wouldn't accept anything in return."
"Years ago," declared a man in a gruff voice, "a bloke told me that Snow murdered a sailor in a drunken brawl. And that the police were after him. That's why they say he's been hiding in the mountains all these years."
"That rumour was a vicious lie," said another man, in a firm voice. "Snow wouldn't hurt a fly. He's probably the kindest and most gentle man I've ever met."
"Just very, very shy," added the minister, who was ready and waiting to conduct the memorial service.
Noah felt like he'd been waiting all day for something. Waiting for something strange to happen. Without knowing what it could be. Or how it would happen.
"Look! They’ve come!"
The words exploded from his mouth. Like a cannon. Noah was shocked how loud they sounded. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud. But they burst from him, landing squarely beside the minister as he paused, mid-sentence.
Everyone looked up.
With a flap of wings and clack of bills the pelicans landed noisily and clumsily on a branch of the ancient oak. Close to where the people stood. Then the birds fell silent.
They remained like statues throughout the simple service. They remained respectful while afternoon tea was served in the garden.
The scones were hot and spread with raspberry jam and topped with cream. Jess carried them around, along with crisp white table napkins. She glanced towards Noah and smiled deep into him. Noah felt the warmth of her smile and then watched as Jess moved on among her guests. Offering. Nodding pleasantly. Catching snippets of conversation here and there.
Pointing up at the pelicans, a woman said to Jess, "I heard that old man Snow fished all day, just to feed his birds."
"That's true," replied Jess, matter-of-factly. "They were his family."
"You wouldn't think anyone would do that. Especially someone who had to hunt for his own food."
Clearly puzzled, the woman looked up at the pelicans again and then stirred her tea. The tea was black, Noah noticed, and she hadn't added any sugar.
Changing the subject abruptly, a man with a pimple on the side of his nose said, "Did you hear how he fixed up a pelican whose leg got mangled by fishing hooks and line? And then got infected?
"Apparently Snow squatted beside the bird and cut out the hooks and the fishing line. Using a razor blade. Then he cleaned up the wound, packed it with berries he'd collected in the rainforest, and bandaged it using strips of cloth he'd ripped from his shirt."
"I was nearby," said another man. "At first, I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought I was dreaming. But it happened, believe me. It was extraordinary!"
"More food, anyone?" offered Red, passing around a plate of passionfruit slice.
"I shouldn't, but they’re absolutely delicious, so I will."
Comforted with tea and her second piece of passionfruit slice, the woman said, "My husband saw it too. Apparently old man Snow stroked and crooned to the pelican all the time, like he was hypnotising it.
"He also told me," she continued, leaning forward in the dark green plastic chair, "that the other pelicans stood in a ring around Snow and his patient, with their heads bowed.
"Snow named the bird Pearl, because he said her eyes were like pearls."
"She’s the pelican with the limp and the scar. Snow saved her life. That's why he was so attached to her."
"The bond was deeper than that," said Jess quietly, as she gathered together the cups, saucers and plates. "Snow loved Pearl with all of his being."
As the funeral car -- with Snow's body inside -- drove slowly down the driveway, the pelicans made a sudden move. With a few flaps they were up in the air. In formation, the flock followed the funeral procession to the small cemetery, circled twice and then landed. They waddled slowly towards the graveside, and then, with bowed heads, watched as their friend was lowered into the hole and the casket covered with soil.
Noah approached the bird that had been Snow's closest friend. Feeling the bird’s sadness, Noah wrapped his arms around the large feathered body.
"The lad,” whispered one of the mourners. “He has the touch."
Other heads nodded in agreement.
"It's okay," whispered Noah into the pelican’s feathers. "Your friend is at peace."
Pearl puffed out her large pouch, and then worked her bill up and down Noah's leg, talking in a soft rumbling voice.
With tears crowding her eyes, Jess said, "Snow’s handed on his gift to the boy."
Unaware of the people watching him, Noah continued to talk to the pelican, saying, "Snow lives on in you and in all his other ani
mal friends -- -- --. And in me, and in all the people gathered here."
Prince nudged Noah's knee and looked up into Noah's eyes. Wrapping his arms around the pelican and the dog, Noah's face lit up. It began to glow.
With the sun sinking low in the sky, the pelicans ruffled their feathers and flexed their wings. Pearl gazed deep into Noah's eyes and then lifted her bill in farewell.
The flock took off into the evening sky. Airborne, they sailed on wings that lifted them higher and higher into the blue. Then they circled, soaring on outstretched wings until they were tiny specks in the hazy light of sundown.
Noah watched as they disappeared from sight. He stood perfectly still. As if he wasn’t there at all. But he was there, with Adam standing beside him. Solid as granite rock.
"It's time for us to go too," said Red gently, as he guided Noah towards the car.
Red was worried. The boy looked lost and deeply saddened.