Название: Feed My Dear Dogs
Автор: Emma Richler
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Вестерны
isbn: 9780007405633
isbn:
I feed the little kid with great patience, walking her over to the window seat with her napkin tied around her neck, and offering up tiny portions of peas the way I’ve seen my dad feed Gus, turning the fork into a racing car or aeroplane or other exciting mode of transport, and in between bites, I prod the window open a little more, so she can feel closer to home, and because I have the keys to the jail and I can tell the difference between a small kid and a felon. I know this kid is dreaming of home. The kid has a homing instinct. The kid is Harriet.
I remember it, how her eyes glazed over and she fell so quiet as I tried to feed her, I thought about the bird in the box, the one who had death throes and lost her bird identity and became a mere ball of feathers with stiff little legs and no life. I wanted to throw open the windows. Run, Harriet! But she had never worn that path alone. Later, I looked up homing instinct, in case of eventualities, in case my sister has to make her way home without me one day. Be prepared.
Homing instinct. ‘See migration, animal.’ OK.
Migration. ‘The mechanism of navigation and homing is not completely understood. In birds it seems to involve sighting of visible landmarks, such as mountains and vegetation, as well as a compass sense, using the sun or the stars as bearings. Land mammals may lay scent trails for local direction finding.’
This may be an animal thing only, though humans are land mammals and this business of scent trails certainly reminds me of how I think about Jude, how I know his smell and so on. Sometimes you look a word up, a word or a person in history, and you get some bonus information, answers to things you did not even know you had questions about. I love that. Jude is a land mammal leaving scent trails for me and my sister swims like a fish. She may go astray but she will not go missing because when it comes to homing, Harriet reads the stars, Harriet is a bird.
‘Jude? Where’s Harriet? Where is everyone?’
‘Oh yeh. Forgot. Mum was going to Jarvis. Took Harriet and Gus.’
‘She did? Did she ask if I wanted to come?’
‘We were busy. Did you want to go?’
‘No. I’m with you. We’re busy’
‘Right.’
I hate it though, when she leaves without telling me. I hate it.
‘So we’re having fish tonight,’ I say. ‘Fish pie or something. I hate fish pie. It’s spooky.’
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