LAIMA – cuckoo of the Lime tree
“The Cuckoo is a fine bird,
She sings as she flies;
She brings us good tidings,
She tells us no lies.
She sucks little birds’ eggs
To make her voice clear;
And when she sings
“Cuckoo,”
The summer is near.”
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Do you like the wilderness? It’s peaceful. There’s almost a spiritual component to it if you allow yourself to see it. I love the outdoors, it’s been a refuge for me. I would run away to the fields, or the trees, or the water. Id find myself surrounded by acres of wildflowers and a gentle breeze, or maybe at the top of the tallest tree on othe edge of the forest line just so I could feel bigger. One day, I found myself at the edge of a pond I couldn’t remember. There was a linden tree on the edge. A large bird nest perched in the furthest limb, overhanging that pond.
My name is Jonas. I was always a small boy. I’ve been picked on ever since I could remember. Anytime another child felt an insecurity, I was the resting place for that. I had bright spastic orange hair that my mama called handsome. So many freckles, that I matched the red dirt. I didn’t look much like my 3 brothers. I was 2nd oldest, yet they were all taller with blonde hair and square jaws. Freckles just dotting their noses, in the perfect arc across a face that didn’t look like mine. They were my only friends, and they only tolerated me at best. Oldest of us was Mahlon, then me -Jonas, William and our youngest brother Edmund. The only thing we all shared were our blue eyes. Mama always said I took after her daddy, my grandpa. daddy said I was the milkman‘s.
Daddy didn’t like me much. He’d make me get up earlier, stay in the fields later. Even though my skin burnt and my brothers didn’t. He didn’t care. He’d say, “throw on another shirt, boy. I can’t be bothered with your scrawlin’ tonight”, and he draw out the words with such menacing disdain that I piled on clothes until I melted underneath that scorching Oklahoma sun.
We were all farm boys, my brothers, daddy, and me. We lived on a 290 acre corn farm, in the most southern part of the state near an Indian reservation. Most people had kept going west, headed to the cities. When we landed here though, my daddy said this was it. It was a decent patch of farmland located at the base of some hills that ran into mountains. At the time, it was only me and my eldest brother, Mahlon, but daddy said if mama was willing to give him some more boys, we would live like kings and queens. A dream my family had been trying to make real ever since we immigrated here from Poland in 1830s.
So, we bought this farm, and all it’s equipment, and tried our hand at corn in the red clay. Mama kept up her end of the bargain giving daddy William an’ Edmund. It was grueling hard work with just the 6 of us, but that isn’t the scary story I’m here to tell y’all today.
I love it out here even though the sun hates me with a might, the moon is my friend. I’d find myself wandering the woods early mornins when my family was still tucked away and dreamin. Any time I lost myself in thought, i’d be at the edge of that pond when I came around. The tree was squat, but a beautiful majestic thing with mix of copper leaves and plump green lime fruit that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the towering cedar, oak and cypress trees.
One day, I told mama about it. She laughed at me. “Son, I’ve walked this land for years, there ain’t no pond out in those trees. And there ain’t no lime tree either.” She’d snort, anxiously wringing the kitchen rag she held. Mama was a kind soul, but daddy was not. I watched her harden over the years to keep up. I love my mama, but I don’t miss her much. Hell, I guess my mama didn’t know these woods like she thought she did …or maybe she lied. Don’t matter now.
Another time, I told youngest brother, Edmund. He really believed me. I think he was the only one who ever did. He went out into the woods with me night after night, but we could never find the pond or the tree when he was with me. Daddy finally caught on when Edmund fell asleep on the tractor. Daddy whipped us both good for “sneakin round for girls” when we was ‘posed to be sleepin. I didn’t sneak out for a long time after that.
During that time, I tried to convince myself that I had all made it up. It was just a place I dreamt about when I would sleep under the trees because I needed some place like that. A peaceful place, that didn’t exist.
The nasty summer months had ended, and the leaves were starting to release themselves from their places on the branch. The hills were a grand mix of ambers, burgundys, and oranges. As soon as harvest was done, Id found myself restless at night. my body had become accustomed to the summer heat, and now that it was cooling off, I wasn’t as exhausted at the end of the day. I would toss and turn in my top bunk, feeling a pull to that sacred place. Edmund on the bottom, telling me to quit my squirmin’ so he could get to sleep. One night I let the feeling take me.
I wound my way through the woods, under branches over thorn thickets. I floated past a river, and through briar patches so tangled a mouse couldn’t tip toe through. It was so surreal, I felt as if I was in a dream. I found myself at the edge of that pond. The same proud linden tree perched over the edge to the left, the large bird nest I had seen earlier in the year thicker and more robust. To my surprise, there was a large bird perched in the tree behind the linden tree. I swear it wasn’t there when I had arrived. there had been no commotion upon her arrival. I’m not sure how I could’ve missed something so ethereal.
She was as beautiful and as out of place as the linden tree. Although she was large, she was not as big as an eagle. Her feathers were a beautiful slate grey with fiery blue edging. Her eyes and beak were a glowing gold. They matched the leaves fluttering off of the trees around her in the gentle wind.
“Hello”, she said. I backed away slowly.
She flew down to perch on a large rock that jutted from the water. The image of her sitting there, glowing under the full moon will never leave my mind.
“Don’t leave, Jonas. I have many stories to tell you. Old and new.” A melody my ears couldn’t meet. Her voice a birds song, but words as well. “Tidings for all of you. My name is Laima, please listen to my calling.” Almost sickeningly sweet as it dripped from her beak. I wanted to turn tail and run, but I simply could not.
I listened to her until the sun started to peak over the horizon, and I had no choice but to scamper as fast as I could back to the barn where was my daddy was expecting me. The bird told me of only good things that first night. I stood in that there barn with a stupid grin on my face, I’m sure. Full of naive childish pride, and ‘ I know something y’all don’t know’ ego. My mind brimming with things like I was going to be an uncle soon. My younger brother William, only 15 had made a girl with child. The baby was a boy, and he was to be born healthy!! Edmund‘s ankle would heal faster than the doc bad thought, and that our farm would do more than just make money, it would be passed through the generations though William.
All of this special information, revived me. I felt like a God in my own right. I knew things. Those next few months were the most wonderful of my life. I made it through the winter by visiting Laima once a week. She would sing to me through the night. Her songs full of good, bad and indifferent. I would try to ask her direct questions, but she would never answer me. She would continue to fly around the pond in circles, singing her songs. Even though I would get no rest, I would be more rejuvenated than if I had, after each time I saw my Laima.
As the spring came, work got harder and I was only able to visit the Laima once in April. She sang to me like always, but there was something different in her tune. It was almost sunrise when I realized what was different. Laima was in her nest. She was not flying about or sitting on the rock. She was sitting in the nest. It was so large now.
I wish I hadn’t noticed. I wish I had closed my eyes, let her saccharine music flood my ears, but I was a stupid naive boy. I stared at the nest. She finished her tune, and she stared at me. Our eyes met for the first time, truly. She plainly said, “Do not, Jonas.”
“Do not what?” The first rays of sun shone through the bottoms of the trees.
“DONT DO WHAT, LAIMA?”, I yelled, knowing full well she would not answer. I had no choice but to leave. If I stayed any longer, daddy would surely wallop me good.
The next few weeks, I stewed on her words. Do not. In all the time I had listened to her melody, she had never told me what to do, only brought me information about what might transpire. As I think back on it now, I realize it was my boyish pride that had done me in. I felt indestructible after my interactions with her. my ego had grown, and I wanted to counter her because I felt as if I could when in actuality all i was, was a worm. A soft, stupid, weak creature standing before infinite time. Do not what, Laima?
The weeks past and May rolled in, I found myself able to sneak out to her refuge. My refuge. I had become thick with self-importance. I no longer respected Laima as what she was, and felt as if she belonged to me. She would show herself to no one else, right? Her song was mine, and mine alone. As I arrived, she was not in her usual spot on the rock but in the far trees towards the back.
I spoke,” Oh, how I have missed my bird. Please, sing to me.”
She did not. She flew circles around the pond, and then disappeared into the darkness of the brush.
I screamed for her. Bellowed with agony for the release of her music. She did not return. What had become of my Laima and I? I felt betrayed. Abandoned. How dare she disrespect ME? I was her only friend in this place. I was the only one who would listen to her song.
I was seething. “RETURN to me Laima, NOW!!!” The words burst out of me in a frenzied shriek. I was outraged. My mind reeled with horrid fantasies. I grabbed a large branch and thrashed about wildly. I was destroying whatever I could get to, and then my eyes laid on her nest. I went quiet.
A nest. It was so simple. I would take an egg. She would surely see me then. She would come back to me, and then we could be what we were once. I sat on her rock for the next few hours. She refused to show herself to me. So, I did what I felt I must. I used the large branch to clear a path for myself to the large Linden tree. A large snake slithered across my path as I made my way towards it. As I stood underneath the nest, I decided that I didn’t want Laima anymore. I just wanted to her to hurt like she and everyone else had hurt me.
I shoved the sharp end of the large stick directly into the bottom of the nest. I trembled as if it was a life itself. A twist of old roots, grass and feather, wobbling to and fro as if I had punctured it. I did it again and again and again and again. I took out every bit of anger I had ever felt for every part of my existence on that nest. The fact that I was a small man. STAB. The fact that my daddy didn’t love me. STAB. The fact that no girl wanted me. STAB. Why was my life like this, Laima? Why had you wrought this upon me?
As I fell to my knees crying, pieces of the large bird nest fell upon my head, I looked up as an egg teetered on the edge of one of the holes I had torn open with my resentfulness. I caught it.
I sat there on my knees holding this pearl colored egg in my hands, like a broken record, the first rays of sunshine through the trees again. I got up, and I walked slowly to the barn. I stared at the egg the whole way there. I knew I was in trouble, but I didn’t care. I had one of Laima’s eggs.
I went straight to our bedroom and hid the egg in my top bunk pillowcase tucked up against the wall in the corner. I wanted to be sure it was going to be there when I got back from work. As I made my way to the barn, I caught my daddy in the front yard screamin’ my name. My prediction was right, I got a beatin’. Laima’s fortune tellin’ had rubbed off on me, or maybe it was the egg. All day long, I told predictions in which my brothers laughed. I knew which cow needed to be milked. I knew which chicken was gonna lay eggs. I knew what mama was going to make for dinner, but they didn’t care. My brothers said they ain’t predictions when they were what happened every day. I yelled at them that I had a special bird, her name was Laima and knew things because of her! That’s when Mahlon put me on my ass.
“You’ve always been such a fuckin’ varmint”, he said as he spit on me. William and Edmund hung their heads, but did nothin’. I laid there, defeated as they walked off into the sunset.
It was then, I remember the egg I had hidden in my bed. Not to bring attention to myself, I drug myself slowly pass my brothers in the backyard. I went in through the back door and into our bedroom. I sat on my top bunk, glaring at that egg. I hated all of them. My mama, my daddy, my brothers, the world and especially Laima. She brought good tidings, but where were mine?
I ate her egg. It one bite. It was a tad bit smaller than a hens, and I gingerly popped the whole thing in my mouth. As I bit down, all I felt was pure hatred. I wanted her to know what I was doing.
That night I never fell asleep and by the time I felt her pull, I was already walking to her myself. I scoffed at the feeling. It was as if I was in a trance, but still cognizant to my hate, my fury. I followed the same path, through the briar patch to the edge of the pond.
As I entered the space, I could feel deep sorrow.
I walked down to the waters edge and I looked up in the trees for my bird. She was not there, and I surveyed the damage I had done the last night. It was not pretty. I had ravaged all of the flowers and delicate ecosystems a long the waters edge. I had ripped branches from trees, and they lay strewn across the front edge of the pond. All of the fresh growing vegetation was smashed and stunted.
I reveled in her pain.
“ I ate your egg” I spat.
There was no reply. I sat there for hours, throwing rocks into the pond. Screaming her name.
I was still alone at dawn break that 2nd night, so I made my way back to the barn. That day, I do not remember. The next thing I do recall is being back at the pond on the 3rd night, sitting on Laima’s rock. I do not know the hour, only that when I looked up Laima was flying towards me. She landed on the branch which held her nest, and she wept. Her tears brought rain clouds, and they filled the pond. I sat utop that rock the whole time. Observing her cry while being cleansed with her tears in the moonlight.
The sun started to come up, I went to move from my place on the rock. I tried again, but my body seemed frozen in place. I raised my head to Laima, ready to speak, but she spoke first, “ I was never yours, Jonas. You are mine. I have loved you, child -yet you only hate.” she whispered. I pondered that. When had things changed?
The sun had started to rise higher now, and Laima sang to it. She asked Saule to take me away from the sun forever. That I did not deserve Laima and especially not Saule. The sun sang back to her of it’s hatred for me. She put forward songs of affliction and blistering, more than I had ever thought possible. As the songs intertwined I felt myself becoming old and new. Like bolts of lighting, I felt sparks throughout my veins.
I looked down and my arms were turning a warped and melted black mix of ash and skin. The sun nolonger bothered me, it’s was like a flamethrower upon my back. The sound of Laima’s song was like hot spikes to my ears. I lifted my chin to Saule and howled in fury. I realized that my face was growing into a long gnarled snout as I felt my skin rip apart. The next moment, I was thrusting myself into the pond to get away from the world that had never wanted me.
I saw the moon rise through the watery depths of the pond. I was fearful but decided to try and make my escape back to the barn. I emerged from the pond and as I was about to takeoff through the woods I caught my reflection in the water. I was no longer the Jonas I had known. No orange hair, no freckles, and the only thing left of me were my blazing blue eyes.
I was a monster, in the true sense of the word. Almost like what my mama had described when she told me about a werewolves. I stood on my hind legs, finally tall, broad but still hunched over. I had the face of a dog, but the wings of a bat. I screamed into the night for Laima. I tried to charge her nest, but found myself yanked backwards.
I threw myself over and over towards her nest, snapping my jaws violently, trying to get at another egg. Until I realized that I had a heavy chain bound around my right ankle. The chain trailed off into the center of the pond.
I howled at the moon for solace, in which he gave none.
I’ve been shackled to this pond for over 100 years now. Sometimes I find my chain lets me go further. I sneak a chicken or cow, sometimes I find a person to frighten. Laima and Saule refuse to release me from this prison though.
It’s been a very long time, but I’m starting to hear a new song. If I sit at the bottom of the pond and stay silent on the night of a full moon, I can hear him. He sounds very sad, sadder than me. He twists melodies about his dedication to the sun, Saule, and his loss of her. Maybe, just maybe, if I bide my time, I can convince him to release me so that I may re-claim our loves for us. No, Laima- you are mine.