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[algae-soup]

Chapter 1

He paused the meditation playlist and turned his eyes to the night. A moment later he heard again through the darkness, Wap pop pop pop pop pop. Wap pop pop pop pop pop. The woods were full of snaps and rustles but this mysterious voice cracked loudly through the near silence. It hooted once more after no reply until a far off rival, who now called back from the distance, hooted wap pop pop pop pop pop!

 Gumbo sat up and leaned back into the live oak. “Gotta get to the marina tomorrow if I wanna catch the ferry” he said, hitting play on LoFi birdsong to relax/study to.

“Oh yeah” said the owl, close by but still invisible. “Time to pull the trigger huh?”

“Yeah, gotta see my guy first though. Stock up again” he said, sliding his hand over his pouch even though he just checked the stash ten minutes ago.

“Aw well. Come visit whenever, you can crash in my tree”

“Hell yeah thanks. It’s perfect here, I just want to go home for a bit you know”

“You should consider migrating. I know it’s not your thing but some seasonality might be nice. Not my thing neither but sometimes you need a lil structure. Wap pop pop pop pop pop pop. Should I go beat this stupid freak?”

“I won’t be there forever. Another day or two in the city and I’ll take off. But yeah I’ll be back down someday” Forest covered mountains burst out of the sea in his mind. Pink and orange cliffs glowing in the morning sunlight as the icy prisms clinging to his fur glisten and melt. “Get his ass. I’ll hit you up later”

Wap pop pop pop pop pop pop! The branch creaked and the bird was gone. Gumbo turned off the music and fell asleep looking up at the moon through the sweeping branches.

The nice thing about trees is they’re perfect. Perfection is everywhere in the rhythm and disorder of the coast and the delta. Thousands of islands scoured away by the tide and pulled upward again out of the sea for hundreds of years, the region was locked in continuous transition. It was a place of endless adventure and mystery, and it was cool ending up here for a while. It’ll be nice heading home too. Morning came and Gumbo sat up. You could just see the shore through the brush and where the cotton candy sky met the ocean in between the innumerable islands. After watching the sun rise through the trees, he ate some berries and moss for breakfast before gathering some more and stowing them in his pouch. It was humid and sticky already and he set off toward the beach, brushing the detritus out of his ass fur. 

As he turned away from the open ocean more islands appeared. He walked along the beach towards the end, and continued walking into the water until he was nearly submerged. At seven feet tall, he was able to slowly walk his way across several channels paddling with his hands to propel himself. Larger channels were too deep so he swam, long strokes and sometimes on his back. After a while he got the the island where he last stowed the raft. He pulled it from the brush into the water and continued up the creek. The tide rolled him along as he paddled, doing most of the work and often moving him in the correct direction. Schools of fish passed by and flocks of shorebirds bobbed in the wake in the shady coves waiting to poke around for grubs when the tide went out. He smiled and waved at everyone, stopping to wrestle with an alligator pal and he had kelp salad for lunch with an ancient snapping turtle, after giving her a nice shell rub with a handmade oil of his. He veered the raft between mangroves and watched the fish do the same, but more nimbly. It was a perfect morning in the bayou.

He made it to the marina in the afternoon. “Hey Bucky. What do ya know?”

“Leaving in five minutes, I’ll get you a seat. Bark! Bark!” Bucky ran toward the docks. 

Gumbo crossed his eyes and mumbled to himself, heartworms, flea bites, fur matted down; give me the mangy tail of a hound. Gumbo crouched down and leaned forward onto his hands. He exhaled deeply and slowly, channeling his focus inward. He felt his haunches shrinking down and his muscles condense into tightly wound springs. His next inhale was through a snout. The cattle dog sat on his hind legs where a bigfoot had just stood and sniffed the sweet salty air. He trotted around on four legs to adjust to his smaller stature and began panting in the heat. Gumbo pissed on a tree and ran off after Bucky.

  Gumbo the dog stepped off the ferry into New Orleans. The sun was setting and the evening air hung heavy with moisture and was full of colorful noises from inside the marina and around the docks. There was movement everywhere; fishermen mending nets and preparing for the morning, dockhands swinging around crates, smoking and talking and laughter in every direction. The ocean breeze mingled with the smells of hot fish and exhaust. Gumbo stretched and walked along the river edge and turned down an alley. A midden of clamshells stood at the back door of one shack where plumes of smoke billowed out of the open door. Music was blasting over the clattering and yelling from inside the kitchen as Gumbo approached, and he barked into the thick hot cloud of fumes.

“Whos that! Whatchoo want?” A wrinkly bearded face appeared through the grease fog. “Oh mon amie, como ca va?? Lemme fix you something!” He disappeared into the smoke and rematerialized with a steaming bowl and stepped out into the alley.

He set the bowl at Gumbo’s feet, “Beans n rice, no flavor, just for you” he winked at Gumbo.

“Thanks Francois” Gumbo said before chowing down, “busy night?”

Francois dabbed his forehead with the inside of his apron, “not too bad for a Saturday. Not like you’d know about Saturdays you bum” he laughed.

“Dat’s right baby, every day is Saturday” Gumbo said with jowls full of beans. “jambalaya slaps, thanks”

“Merci beaucoup! It’s even better with the fixings,” Francois said “scallops, shrimp, boudain… you’re missing out. Get me anything special down der?”

Gumbo licked his chops clean and stuck his snout into his pouch, pulling out a mouthful of pearls. Ivory, sapphire, bronze, and one glossy black. Francois crouched down and Gumbo dropped them gently into his open palm.

“Oh mon amie, these are beautiful. Bon chien!” He stood up and flicked his wrist and the pearls were gone. “I’ll save these for something special. You wanna come grab a drink? Powdered pearl milkshake, for vitality! Got a big night ahead of you?”

“No thanks, I’m on my way to see Bordo and then I’m heading up north in a couple days” Gumbo said.

“Way up north to Baton Rouge yeah?”

“Bit farther” Gumbo said, “shooting to get to Acadia by the end of the summer”

“Mmmmm” Francois’ pursed lips turned to a warm smile, “long long ways, bet you’re walking too huh. Well if I don’t see you before you go, I better give you this now” he reached into his pocket and retrieved an antique oyster knife. Steel blade with a walnut handle inlaid with an intricate geometric design, and covered in a thick coat of slime. “Shucked a lot of oysters with this Gumbo, it’ll treat you well. Just point and shoot” he said with another wink.

“Wow this fuckin rocks, thanks man” Gumbo took the knife in his mouth and stashed it into his pouch.

“Keep in touch chouchou! I gotta get back to it. Lotta fish to fry”

“For sure. Bon soir” 

Francois returned to the kitchen and Gumbo continued up the alley. It was two miles walking up the greenway and a few city blocks to Temple Cemetery. The city lights dimmed as he entered under the tree canopy, and his eyes glowed yellow, adjusting to the dark. He trotted off down the earthen path.