by LOREN EISELEY
[part 1]
// From far above it came ringing down, a sound of ecstatic, eternal joy. //
We entered that southwestern valley through the trailing mists of a spring night. It was a place that looked as though it might never have known the foot of man, but in fact scouts for our expedition had been ahead of us and so we knew all about the abandoned cabin that lay far up on one hillside.
I arrived at the cabin first. From near its entrance I could see our cavalcademostly the reflection of headlights on our collecting tins-winding in and out through the mist below. I stood on a rock for a moment, looking down and thinking what it cost in money and equipment to capture the past.
We had, in addition, instructions to lay hands on the present. The word had come through to get them alive-birds, reptiles, anything. A zoo somewhere needed restocking. My job was to help capture some birds.
The cabin had not been occupied for years. There were holes in the roof, and birds were roosting in the rafters. A cabin going back to nature in a wild place always attracts birds. They find a hole, come in side; then suddenly the place is theirs and man is forgotten.
I got the door open softly, holding a powerful torch with which to blind the birds so they couldn't see to get out through the roof. I had a short piece of ladder to put against the far wall, where there was a shelf on which I expected to make the biggest haul. As I pushed the door open, a bird or two stirred but nothing flew.
I padded across the floor and slithered up the ladder till my head and arms were over the shelf. Everything was pitch dark except for starlight coming through a little hole at the back of the shelf near the eaves. I reached my arm carefully over in order to be ready to seize whatever was there, and I put the torch on the edge of the shelf, where it would stand by itself. That way I'd be able to use both hands.
To be continue...
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