I was familiar with the research done on the dangerous effects of alternating current’s electromagnetic field on the cellular development of zygotes. But the desire to find an easy fix to the rodent infestation in my attic led me to delude myself with the false assurances the device was safe for children and pets. I threw caution aside when I plugged in the device. It caused all the wiring of my house to give off an electromagnetic field that slowly destroyed any creatures unable to escape its force field.
Mystery Mouse died in late April. Once she was dead I left the device plugged in all the time because I didn’t have her comfort to consider anymore. I thought large creatures like myself were not affected by the field.
Within five days of leaving the device plugged in, I was ready to go to the emergency room. My ears were ringing loudly, my heart was pounding and my blood pressure was uncharacteristically high. I felt anxious and unable to sit down at my laptop to work on the memoir. I blamed writing the memoir because my symptoms got worse when I worked on the computer due to all the electricity required to run it and the peripherals.
About that time the roofers came to fix the front roof of the house. The roofing foreman noticed the lights we use in the engine compartments of our cars at night to keep away the pack rats. I told him about the plug-in device, and he said his roofing company used the same plug-in device. It worked great, he said, no rodents, not even birds would fly inside their warehouse anymore.
That was when I let go of my self-delusion and realized what was wrong — it wasn’t the writing of the memoir that set off my pulse and blood pressure. The anti-rodent gizmo’s electromagnetic field utilized all the electrical wiring in my house to create a strong wave signal twenty-four hours a day. No wonder the spiders indoors had virtually disappeared; even the assassin beetles were gone. The rattlesnakes didn’t leave because they lived under the floor below the grid-work of electrical wiring in the walls.
CHAPTER 42
The Quicholi festival for Mixcoatl, the Maize Mother, is a celebration that uses a great many arrows which are made and offered to Huitzilopochtli, Lord Hummingbird the Warrior, and to all warriors who died in battle to commemorate the descent of the stars into the interior of the Earth.
On the turquoise mosaic, the outer band represented warriors who are war-like star deities such as Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli and Huitzilopochtli; so the Star Beings are linked to turquoise, which shows their status as the highest. Now astronomers say that great ice comets collided with the Earth and brought all the water there is. So the comets were the Star Beings that brought life to Earth; without water there can be no life as we know it, and no turquoise.
I thought the rattlers wouldn’t climb up the tall clay pots but my neighbor found a big rattlesnake in one of her large clay pots on her wooden deck. About that time I watched a really big rattler crawl over — not around — a stack of bricks by a flowerpot which means the snake could easily climb into my tall flowerpots if it wished. Fortunately the snakes seem to prefer the dirt that dampens between the flowerpots under the mesquite tree to the flowerpots themselves. My neighbor’s wooden deck gets too warm and is probably the reason the snakes crawled up into her flowerpots. The snakes here haven’t done that yet. Not yet. But I now look before I reach in the flowerpots to test the dampness of the soil.
The big rattler was lying in the shade in wait for a mourning dove. He was on the other side of a big pot with gourd sprouts in it. I couldn’t see him. I was wearing my sound cancelling headphones when I stepped outside to the porch; I think the cockatoos had been screeching so I left the headphones on.
Although I barely heard it I felt the vibration of the rattling. I took off the headphones and located the snake before I stepped around the big pot and found myself face to face with the big snake. I don’t like to be surprised by snakes; it means I’m not paying enough attention to my surroundings.
The light! The light! This first morning of June on the stretch of the big arroyo just above the old iron culvert that resembles a coffin, bright in the sunlight I found a small cabochon of turquoise in the shape of a heart on a gravel bar I’ve walked past a number of times recently but never saw. Was it there those other times? When did it appear? Was it visible only in the 6:20 a.m. light? Maybe the light at 8:30 a.m. is brighter but the wrong angle, and so bright the turquoise stones appear to be enameled.
Now the misty breeze smells just like the ripe prickly pears boiled for syrup. The rain smells of wet cactus. The wind came from the east and there was little thunder or lightning. It was a gentle rain that soaked into the ground. The air had been so hot but now suddenly the breeze off the rainstorm feels almost icy. The palo verde covered with dainty yellow flowers sway in the wind; at their feet the drifts of fallen blossoms swirl.
The cooler air lingers in the low-lying places, the arroyos. It feels delicious on my face and is lightly perfumed with the late-blooming catsclaw bushes in the arroyos. The wild flowers that bloomed in February, March and April are dry stalks, their seedpods the shapes of spiders, bees and stars. They are luminous — backlit by the rising sun — as lovely in this light as they were in flower.
At 5:15 a.m. the sun is up but not quite over the Catalina Mountains. To walk or not to walk? I tell myself the more walks I take the more material I will have for the manuscript. Yes, no. I decided yes, a slow walk. I didn’t have any coffee. I left the dogs indoors but I uncovered the one-legged macaw’s cage.
I started out and felt a bit odd on the first hill from not eating. But I can think of no better place to die than out on the trail in these hills with the saguaros and all the other beings I love. But after the first hill I get warmed up and feel better the longer I walk.
The low angle of the rising sun through clouds filters the light through a yellow shimmering haze that makes the early morning golden. The dry stalks and leaves and the seedpods were backlit by the sun and transformed to flora of light in another dimension.
I saw a set of large boot-prints on the trail. A big man. Size 13 DDDDD. I see little tracks of night insects and night rodents in the fine dust inside the boot-print; he was here yesterday.
After the Gila Monster Mine the boot-prints stopped, and I saw only rabbit and javelina tracks and those of insects on the trail which filled my heart with relief and happiness. At the javelina dance place I found no dancing tracks. They dance here because the soft sand feels good and there are no pebbles or stones to stub their cloven hooves. They take their dirt baths in select spots where the runoff moves the rocks and pebbles and leaves only the finest soft sand and clay which they carefully prepare by pawing it with their hooves and rooting it up with their snouts and curved incisors.
The morning after the first rain I will be sure to walk to see what sorts of gatherings went on here last night. From the fresh tracks in the damp sand, I can tell the deer reared up on their hind legs and danced in mock combat with one another. They frolic because the rain fills them with joy and erotic excitement.
For years I rode my horse along the trail I now walk. The horse watched the footing and did all the work while I enjoyed the view from the top of the horse. Now I walk and I keep my eyes on the trail while scanning up and around from time to time. I stop now and then to listen as my father taught me for deer hunting.