Elizabeth A. Garcia
  • Home
    • Earlier Author News
  • Books
    • I Cant Hear You
    • And Justice for Some
    • Raw Deal
    • The Trail of a Rattler
    • The Reluctant Cowboy
    • Hard Falls
    • Border Ghosts
    • Darker Than Black
    • The Beautiful Bones
    • One Bloody Shirt at a Time
  • Bio
  • Blog
  • Fan Page
  • Mystery Weekends

The Diamond-Beaked Rockpecker

9/11/2014

2 Comments

 
Picture
It started as a starry-eyed love for the Rio Grande and the jaw-dropping scenery that surrounds it. Before I knew it, I was buying a river rafting outfit.

Having a company that exists to help people have fun has got to be the best type of business. The behind-the-scenes work is daunting, though. When customers return raving about their trip, that’s not an accident. Every single thing you do is aimed at that result.

I assumed I would get to do a lot of “free” river trips, right? Wrong. I worked hard, but one bright morning a young trainee stood in front of the desk in our office. I wished her well because I knew she was going on her final “check out” run through the Rockslide rapid in Santa Elena Canyon. That meant she’d be alone in a raft. Senior guides would be with her, but not in her boat.

I should mention here that this was back in the day when the Rio carried plenty of water. We didn’t know how fortunate we were.

The new guide was tiny and beautiful. I remember her name well, but let’s call her Anne. She said, “They don’t think I’ll make it.” “They” being other river guides: big, strong men.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, “of course you can do it.”

“Why don’t you come with me? Please. It’ll be fun—just take a day off.”

What I’d meant as a pep talk turned into a case of putting my money where my mouth was. I had to go. In retrospect, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

As we glided along, my worries evaporated. I don’t think it’s possible to listen to the steady gurgle of the Rio Grande and feel stressed. Water slapping gently against oars has a lulling effect. We passed turtles sunning themselves on rocks or sticks along the bank. Wildflowers nodded their heads in the occasional breeze. The weather was perfect, not hot or cold. It was a show-off day in Big Bend. As if that wasn’t enough, we rounded a bend and a steep slope on the Mexican side was solid purple with bluebonnets. There were so many the smell was cloying.

“Wow,” Anne exclaimed. “Aren’t you glad you came with me?”

At that moment I couldn’t imagine how anything could ever be more important than spending the day on the Rio Grande.

Anne did fine, as I expected. We talked about various things, including the ways in which women were underestimated by men. Mostly, we laughed. It was hard to care about anything serious on a day like that one.

I don’t remember whether the Diamond-Beaked tale came before or after the Rockslide. It must have come after because Anne was relaxed. She had showed everybody how a tiny woman runs a rapid like a boss.

Then, of course, the lying started. River guides are full of knowledge about the area, but they’re equally full of fun. It’s hard to separate facts and fiction when their mouths start moving.

Santa Elena Canyon has one surprise after another. I’ve been through it forty times or more and it’s never the same; you never see all of it. I commented on a pocked wall on our right, the Mexican side of the canyon.

A straight-faced Anne said, “Those pockets are caused by a rare bird that drills into the wall to make a nest.”

My river guide radar went up.

“It’s sad,” she continued, “because people kill them for their valuable beaks. They’re not protected in Mexico.”

She paused a moment before coming in for the kill. “They’re called the Diamond-Beaked Rockpecker.”

I laughed.

“I know you think I’m pulling your leg, but I’m not. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it before.”

Why was I surprised that Anne would lie? She was a river guide!

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” the liar insisted.

How many times had I heard that?

When we arrived at the takeout, the company’s star birder was our shuttle driver. How perfect; I’d fix my clever little guide.

“Anne has been telling me about the Diamond-Beaked Rockpeckers,” I said, thinking he’d set her straight pronto.

“Did you see one?” He acted excited.

“Of course I didn’t see one. They don’t exist.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t get to see one.” His expression was sad. “They won’t be around long if people keep killing them for their diamond beaks.”

What was the use? They’re all a bunch of liars.



2 Comments
Danielle Corrick
9/11/2014 01:26:57 am

Ha!! SO true! What I love is when no one on the trip other than the guides knows not much of what has been said is truth.

Reply
Beth Garcia
9/11/2014 01:45:29 am

I know it! I've barely started writing about the "guides' lies!!" I used to watch our guests' faces and they believed (usually) everything their guide said. You should know. Ha!

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Elizabeth A. Garcia, author

    Archives

    April 2018
    December 2017
    November 2016
    August 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    June 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    July 2013

    Pin any image
    from this page.

    RSS Feed

    Click "RSS Feed" icon to subscribe to Garcia's Blog feed.
    #garciabooks
    use this hashtag to find  Elizabeth A. Garcia; also use it to post about her.

    Links

    Alpine Daily Planet

    Big Bend River Tours

    Familias de Terlingua

    Front Street Books

    Marfa Book Co.

    Terlingua Trading Company

    Visit Big Bend

    Categories

    All

    A prickly perch
Deputy Ricos' Mountain

Copyright © 2014 Elizabeth A. Garcia 
All Rights Reserved


ASF Sites of Coyota Consulting