There was a dust storm as night fell, only it was more than that. The wind howled and the dust sliced through the cracks in the window frames, but I heard sounds that didn’t belong—a crashing, violent rumble. When the rain came, I opened the door to see. The damage was beyond the strength of howling wind. My new garden was torn apart and anything not tied down was dragged about and trampled. Hoof prints told me that a drove of Javelinas had come.
For the rest of the summer they came with the wind storms. I tried razor wire and bad smelling plants to name a few smart ideas that came to nothing. I sank two weeks pay into repairs, only to have it destroyed again in one night. With nothing left of the yard, they came right up to the house, ripped up the stucco and pissed on the doorstep. I decided it was on and left the whole place for two weeks like a war zone. While I waited, the carnage fueled my rage.
When the wind kicked up again, I pulled a chair to the window to watch. Soon I heard the grunts and snorts. The rage surged and I dashed out the door, forgetting to close it behind me. I grabbed a broken fence post, set aside for this moment and swung at anything. I connected with one of them and screamed out in fierce pleasure as it squealed and recoiled.
There was a crash inside the house and the pleasure was replaced by panic. I raced back to find several of them dashing headlong into my things. In that moment I would have beaten them to death if I could have, but trying my best made no difference. It was actually the end of the wind and the start of the rain that drove them back to the desert.
I was injured—a long gash in my leg from a sharp tusk throbbed while my blood leaked down into my socks. Through the open door I saw a lone Javelina facing me, and something real, and feral passed between us. I watched until it was out of sight and they didn’t return.
After many years, I hear the wind’s first whistle through the doorway. The pitch tells me that a dust storm is on its way and the color of the evening light turns to dusty red. I settle in my chair—the same one, many times repaired. I’m just in time to see the first burst of thick dust crash against the window. It seems too sudden to be so fierce. In a lull, I see through the billowing dust to the source. There’s a construction site—multi-level condos that will ruin my view of the hills beyond. Eddies of wind roll around its chewed up terrain, lifting up plumes of dirt, dry leaves and shopping bags.
One of those plastic bags lurches through the space between to smack in front of me before falling to the ground. While I sat there, an old familiar rage mounted, but it was directed towards the hateful condos. A violent crash in the distance roused me and I heard the grunts and snorts. They were like a dream, calling me to step out and join the fray. The sting of grittywind hit my skin and the scent of dust, with a faint promise of rain filled my nose. I saw a wraith whisk ahead through curtains of thick dust. It had a familiar shape.
It drew me to an orange mesh-fence that marked the edge of the construction site. It was wrecked—loose tendrils flapped wildly in the wind as if waving me on. More wraiths skittered around and I could feel their bearing, and hear their rage. The Javelinas had returned and I joined them.
I passed a trash can, filled with construction debris and pushed it over—the Javelinas trampled the contents before they turned on the can and crushed it. I tipped over empty wheelbarrows and passed on, buffeted by the wind until I found two tall pallets of concrete mix. I leaned into them, one after the other, until they toppled. When I paused to survey the result, broken bags lay torn with their contents spilling out onto the ground. Again, the Javelinas came behind to wreck them further. The exertion had drained me, so I sat and reveled as the sounds of destruction continued on around me. Eventually the wind began to subside. The rage went with it, so I carefully hobbled back to my home and the first drips began to fall.
In my chair by the window, I looked out to see the last of the Javelinas slink away into the desert. I never could tell who won when I had war with the Javelinas. They drew blood and did damage but I prevailed when they disappeared. I had it all wrong—I earned my place and they left me to it. The condo people would be accepted too, after they prove themselves worthy to be here. I was glad to do my part, and although the Javelinas would never tell, I considered a more legal effort, like challenging the city’s codes. That didn’t satisfy the inner rage so I gave up on deep thoughts and enjoyed the rain. As always, I look forward the next storm.
