The Quartermaster

                        1753

Dawn Potter

At night the Wolves and Owls of the Ohio Lands

make a Great Noise, and the Forest abounds

with Turkeys. To hunt these Curious Fowl,

one must travel by Moonlight, approaching with Stealth

the Branchy Trees on which they roost.

One commonly detects Four Score or more

of these Slumbering Giants in a single Oak.

Hitherto soundless, the Hunter now fires a Shot,

and five Turkeys tumble from the Boughs.

Wakened, their Brethren do not fail to Screech—

forthwith, the Hunter stills his Anxious breath

till they relapse into their customary Doze.

Then again he shoots, and again falls Silent,

and shoots again, to the end that all are Killed.

At length his men gather the Corpses.

Staggering beneath their Unexpected Weight,

they bear them to the Canoe and, with weary

Dispatch, proceed Down-river to the Fort.

All the while, unseen among the shades,

Owls consign their vasty Wailings to the Air.

Twice or thrice, a Trembled Wing

brushes a Paddler’s face, and he Flinches:

for there is, in this Boat laden with Relics,

a general Consensus of Fear:

as if, adrift, a Phantom hath risen

from the Slain beneath our Boots

and now delivers to us a Message.

[first published in Hawk & Handsaw, no. 5 (2012)]