Hunter Lake 2/100

HUNTER LAKE 2/100 Henry and the Surveyor

Still crouched in the weeds on the northeast side of Hunter Lake, Henry protected Junior from the cold as the unexplained white trucks rolled by.

“Glebes,” Junior whined as the Western Grebes startled at the sound of the trucks and swam away. The beautiful courting ritual was interrupted. He stretched to see more.

“Tomorrow we’ll see,” Henry’s smiled enveloped his son with a blanket of warmth and reassurance as he let Junior snuggle into his chest.

Words whispered out of Henry’s mouth. “Hold it, watch.”

The rumbling of one truck after the other had drowned out the prairie sounds: lake water lapping, fish jumping, rushes whistling, gnat swarms buzzing, mating grebes screeching. Henry felt he might as well have been in the big city and glared at the trucks in disgust. The shadows from the trucks created a strobe effect from the sun.

Henry closed his eyes and waited, the rumbling stopped. Through the binoculars he saw what he needed: license plates of three white commercial box-like trucks parked end to end, the logo still not completely visible. Out of each truck popped a beige uniformed man. One carried surveyor’s tools. Three men waved at each other.

They carried the familiar tripod, a monocular, and clipboard. As they positioned their tools to map out the perimeter of the west side of Hunter Lake, it looked like they approached Henry’s location on the east side.

Henry secured Junior to his side and stood tall, he swung his binoculars over his shoulder and pulled out his cell and started snapping photos. Then, he pushed a speed dial, “Alma.”

Henry’s face relaxed as the phone rang until he heard what she had to say.

“Alma, there’s trucks here.” Henry’s face took on a chiseled look, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he listened to Alma. He shook his head back and forth as his eyes narrowed.

“Uh-huh, here’s Junior.”

“Home, talk mommy.” Junior grabbed at the phone.

Henry handed him the phone as he scooped up the boy and pressed him against his shoulder and started with a soldier’s steady march. He made his way to the “beige men.” His broad boots sunk a little into the bright green grasses of Spring, little purple crocuses popped up behind him. The ground had thawed enough for Spring flowers. The smell of wet muck from the edge of the lake rose up with each step. In the quiet of the afternoon, he could feel the wind pick up, blowing his thinning blond hair to the side in wisps as thin as corn silk, only one of his kids had that blond wispy hair he grew up with. He pulled his hat off. He was sweating. He cleared his throat and grunted a little with each step.

“Poppa, mommy talk.” Junior extended the phone to his dad.

“Yup, just lookin’.” Henry’s speech was clipped as he ended the call.

Henry stuffed the phone in his pocket and continued his march across the prairie. “You.” It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation. The man with the tripod turned toward him and waved. Henry recognized the type. Not anybody he’d seen in town, probably from Fargo.

“You’re on private property.” Henry pointed at the man.

“Just surveying.”

“What for.”

“Water Board.”

“You don’t belong here.”

“My boss asked me, just a job.”

“This is my land, you need to get off my property.”

“This is wetlands…public property.”

“Easement doesn’t mean public.” Henry’s voice became uncharacteristically louder.

“We’re done here.” The beige man folded up the tripod and signaled the crew back to the trucks.

“You better be.”

Junior pushed himself off Henry and started to run towards the lake. “Come back here.” Henry turned his back to the trucks and started after his boy.

One by one the trucks seesawed their way across the narrow paved road to turn around, no shoulder to tolerate much more. When they finally passed Henry the men dressed in beige looked straight ahead.

Henry lifted Junior high in the air, Simba like and smiled. “We’re gonna’ make this right.” He planted him on his shoulders and smiled and hummed.

“Itsy bitsy spider.”

Junior gleefully waved his arms in the air.

Henry skipped and sang. “Down came the rain.”