It cocked its head at her with an eerie, deliberate focus.
She took a close look at the transponder on its leg and could see a grid of tiny metallic dots. McKinney looked back up at the raven, who was still watching her. “Hi, there. Where are you from?”
The bird cocked its head again, and then let out a perfect imitation of a chain saw.
McKinney laughed and looked to Haloren in surprise. “I didn’t know ravens could do sound effects.”
“Yeah, they’re great at mimicry. My thesis advisor kept a raven. Pain in the ass. Regularly trashed his office, and it hated my guts.” Haloren waved his hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”
“So maybe it’s the sound of loggers he’s imitating?”
“Probably.”
She turned back to face the raven, but it had taken off, leaving a wagging branch behind. “Why’d you scare him away?” She shut and locked the window.
Haloren held the office door open for her, but pointedly didn’t offer to help lug the forty pounds of climbing gear she was hauling. “After you…”
McKinney marched through the door. “Lock it.”
“Got it. Got it.”
In a few moments they were walking fast on the bustling dirt road running down the center of the research station. Local Maasai people in both Western clothes and traditional kanga nodded to them and smiled as they walked past. Haloren engaged them in Swahili, getting laughs out of several. Some of the Maasai were texting on cell phones, getting current cattle and mango market prices from town-an odd mix of the modern and the traditional.
Haloren kept pace easily alongside her, encumbered as she was.
“You mind helping with this gear?”
“I would, but I’m a firm believer in the equality of my female colleagues. Hey, speaking of that: Doesn’t Adwele already have a mother?”
“Yes, but he’s missing a father.”
“You applying for the position?”
“Back off, Bruce. He’s a smart kid, and he’ll need all the help he can get. Babu didn’t leave much behind.”
“I’m just curious whether you’re doing it for Adwele or for yourself. You will be leaving at some point, you know.”
McKinney studied Haloren for a moment, then nodded as she realized he really was just looking after Adwele’s best interests. “I get what you’re saying, but Babu was a good friend. He kept me safe on more than a few research trips. If I can help his family, I will. Even after I go home.”
Haloren studied her too. Then he stopped suddenly. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Hey!”
Haloren turned.
“I promise not to tell anyone you’re not really an asshole.”
He saluted before heading off. “Much appreciated.”
She smirked, shaking her head as she watched him fall in alongside another researcher heading in the other direction.
McKinney hung in an arborist saddle sixty feet above the jungle floor. A cacophony of tropical birds and vervet monkeys echoed in the trees around her. She shaded her eyes against sunlight glittering between the leaves overhead and examined the tree’s crown, looking for weaver nests. Fortunately she didn’t see any.
The lowest branches of this Outeniqua yellowwood tree-or Afrocarpus falcatus — were still twenty feet above her. Her rope hung down from a branch even farther up. She had launched a throw line over it with a crossbow and hauled her climbing rope up after it, securing both ends using climbing knots and a dual line technique she’d learned as a grad student to hook up her harness.
Readjusting her position, McKinney gazed out across the jungle from this hilltop tree at the densely forested peaks of the Usambara Mountains still shrouded in mist in the distance. There was an immense diversity of sights and smells. It was always breathtaking up here. She never failed to notice how beautiful these mountains were, wrapped in low cloud cover and jungle canopy-humid and profuse with life. Reveling in the natural world was as close to the spiritual as McKinney got. She knew it was on this continent-possibly in this very jungle-that the first hominids arose, beginning the journey that separated mankind from the other animals. Becoming self-aware. She felt humbled by the vast stretch of history this place had seen.
She looked down to track the progress of her companion, a sinewy African boy of about ten. He, too, wore a rock-climbing helmet and sat in a climbing saddle suspended from a separate rope. He was laboriously working his way up-his booted foot looped through a rope stirrup. The boy grunted as he pushed up with his leg, ascending another few inches, then readjusting his knots.
McKinney pointed. “Don’t grab the Blake’s Hitch, or you’ll lose ground. Keep your hands below it. That’s better, Adwele. Good.” She smiled at him. “How you holding up? Need a rest?”
He shook his head. “No, miss. I’m good to go.”
She nodded. Adwele was always good to go, ready to learn something new. Unafraid. “Don’t push too hard. Take your time and concentrate on form.”
He glanced down. Then looked up, flashing a white smile. “Look how high we are!”
“Check that out…” She leaned back on her rope and pointed at the hills. “This is the way birds see the Amani.”
Adwele looked out at a view he’d never seen, though he’d lived his entire life here. A grin spread across his face.
McKinney could see the wonder in his eyes, his growing fascination with the natural world. She saw so much of herself in him. It gave her pause.
A maternal pang was all it was, she knew. The lost decade of her postdoc work, the long hours and low pay of an associate professor. While other people were settling down, she’d been traveling in the remote regions of the world doing field research. It was an adventurous life, but not one suited to being a parent. Besides, there were already enough people in the world, and what she was leaving behind for future generations was her research. She took a deep breath.
“Let me see how your knots are holding up.” She walked the tree trunk to come alongside him. McKinney checked Adwele’s rig section by section. “Stopper knot’s still solid. Nice bridge. Figure-eight looks good.” She examined the Prusik knot wrapped around the main line and pushed the loops more tightly together. “Was this slipping when you ascended?”
“A little.”
“Keep it snug like this, and it won’t slip even if the rope gets wet.” McKinney glanced below them. “About time to add another safety knot too. Every ten feet. Remember.”
“Yes, miss.” Adwele nodded and deftly tied a slipknot into the rope that trailed away beneath him. There were similar knots at intervals in the line below.
She rapped on his helmet with her gloved hand. “You’re becoming a pro. Now, remember, it’s important to follow all of the steps. What happens when we get careless?”
“Hospital or worse.”
McKinney nodded. “Yes. Very good.”
“Why does Professor Haloren use a metal tool to climb instead of all these knots?”
“You mean an ascender? Because Professor Haloren is lazy.”
Adwele laughed. “He says you’re cheap.”
“Equipment can malfunction, and when it does, you’d better know how to do this yourself. Once you can tie these knots without thinking, you can use an ascender if you like.”
Adwele was already gazing past her, up into the tree’s crown. He pointed. “Look, a kipepeo.”
McKinney followed his arm to see a pink, parchmentlike butterfly flexing its wings on the leaf of a nearby tree. “ Salamis parhassus. Also called ‘the Mother of Pearl Salamis.’”
Adwele took a small notebook and pen that hung by a short cord to a carabiner on his harness. He flipped through the pages and entered a tick mark. He counted. “Fourteen more than last year so far, and there’s still a month to go. Is it the butterfly farmers at Marikitanda?”