Page 7 - Scene Magazine 45-07 July 2020
P. 7

 The Way I’ve Scene I
  t
BY DENISE POYER
    was mesmerized by the color worn by the water. It was a particular blue that Binney and Smith has yet to ever come close to – even in their 152 Ultimate Crayon Collection it has yet to be du- plicated. It belongs only to nature. The sky, a gradient blue also unparalleled, was crisp and clean, and a ribbon of lush green trees divided the two. Stark white gulls soared gracefully over the lake in search of breakfast. Let’s face it. Seagulls are pretty much like rats with wings, but somehow their mournful cry is hypnotic and beautiful.
the water and up at the towers as we cross it, but I can’t, because I have to make sure that the Hub is only looking at road. I don’t want us falling over the edge and ending up on the evening news.
of bread to the starving sky rat. Within seconds, there was a whole parking lot full of gulls screaming at us, and they all wanted bread. I almost died, and the Hub just shook his head as we cut our lunch short and rode on to Curtis, which is our happy place.
In 1979, I had never been across “The Bridge” before, and it was so thrilling. We have been to Michigan’s upper peninsula many, many times since then, and like all true Michiganders,
I always love the first glimpse of the Mighty Mac as she rises up over I-75. Always impeccably kept, her white tow- ers and green decking and rails usher travelers into the land of relaxation. It
is where we go for what we call a “real vacation.” I would love looking out at
We stopped at a roadside park just outside of St. Ignace that first year to have our lunch, because the bridge was in full view. I was probably jabbering like a magpie. I know I was clicking away with my Kodak Instamatic cam- era, because I just could not get enough of that beautiful view. It was on that day I learned about the conniving nature of seagulls. Oddly enough, we were the only ones stopped at that scenic turnout.
There are three small islands on the Big Manistique lake there, and two
of them are overrun by gulls. One of them has an understandably unoccupied house on it, and that thing is covered with gulls all Alfred Hitchcock-style, and I alternated between freaking out and taking pictures, because it was so eerie. The second island has no house, but from afar, its hundreds of birds in motion looked like a bubbling pot. The third island stands quiet and motion- less – kind of like that one dark house in every neighborhood that never hands out candy on Halloween. That island
is home to a bald eagle, and they leave him be, though I hear he loves gulls... I suspect he thinks they taste like chick- en. I was considering taking him a loaf of bread.
Our old
Bass Tracker
cut through the oft-present chop on Big Manistique Lake, and through eyes tightly squinted against the morning sun, I
guy’s beady eyes looked sad. He looked at the ground and then at us in alter- nating fashion. “Oh look, Tom! He’s hungry.” “Don’t do it,” The Hub replied dryly. “He’s starving,” I argued. “He just needs a little bread.” “I wouldn’t do that if I...” he replied with no chance to finish his sentence. I pitched a corner
Can You Say Ornithophobia?
Ready to stretch our legs after the 4.5 hour drive, we stood at the back of the truck and ate our sandwiches. There in front of us was a single seagull. I
am generally terrified of birds, but this
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