http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/man-boat-china/

It was late afternoon, but the sun still hung on beyond the stone spires that surrounded the bay. Soon, the sky would lose its battle with the night. It would rage in rebellion, screaming its discontent in yellows and oranges and blood reds. But it would fail as it always had. Day would inevitably become night.

“Come on, put that out,” Kor said, motioning to the lantern with a wing. “You’re scaring the fish away.”

Shag snorted from her stern perch. “Your breath is scaring the fish away.”

“I don’t think fish can smell.”

Yu chuckled, and the lantern light danced. “Fish can definitely smell.”

“The science is probably still out on that,” Kor said with feigned authority.

“I can’t put it out,” Yu said. “It’s a beacon for the Bayr.”

“Sunset is at least an hour away. It’s still bright,” Kor countered. “I could even see fish under better circumstances.”

“Like if you weren’t still hungover?” Shag taunted.

“It was a party. What was I supposed to do?”  Kor replied, indignant. “And you were just as drunk!”

Shaq clicked her beak. “But you don’t hear me complaining about it.”

“I’m not complaining about my hangover! I just want to try to grab something to eat before… you know what. You guys are the worst.” Kor shook out his wings and hopped to face forward, away from his companions.

“I’m not involved in your tiff,” Yu pointed out. “I’m on an errand.”

“Oh you are?” Kor said sardonically. “And what, then, are we doing?”

“Talking me into blackened fowl for dinner.”

The birds squawked in concert. “An affront! That’s not funny, Yu.” Shag was always the first to rile up Kor, but there was a certain amount of decorum even she followed.

Yu put up a hands to concede. But quiet settled over the little skiff anyway, so he felt no real guilt. For a time, the three sat quietly and listened to the bugs and the frogs sing away the day. Eventually, they must have determined enough time passed. Kor shook his head.

“It was a party,” he said. “A celebration for the boy and the girl. It would have been rude not to have a sip.”

Shag nodded. “I should have stuck with just that one sip. That third wine put me into scene missing territory.”

“I didn’t think you were that bad,” Yu offered.

“I tried to kiss the Mayfly statue.”

Yu shrugged. “It’s not married.” Kor cackled in response, and even Shag allowed herself a grin.

“Where is this guy?” Shag asked.

“The Bayr,” Yu said, “Is not a guy.”

“Right, right. Underwater bear, guardian of the bay, keeper of the future’s secrets,” Kor rattled impatiently. “If there’s no bear, and no fishing to be done out here, then what’s the point?”

“Go ahead.” Yu motioned toward the trees lined on the inner coast of the bay. “There’s fishing if you’re desperate.”

Kor bristled, then groaned. “No,” he said, “I don’t think I could fly without throwing up.”

“It’s been all day,” Shag pointed out.

“I had four wines,” was Kor’s only reply.

Another round of quiet. Yu held the lantern and scanned the rocky, low-slung island. There was no movement, no hulking mass of wet fur to signal the Bayr’s approach. Perhaps he was indisposed.

Impatience boiled over in the birds. Wings fluttered again and again. They chirped wordless frustration.

“Why do we need to speak to the Bayr?” Shag eventually asked.

“First, we need to give his offering.” Yu tapped the basket behind him. “Honey treats go a long way with bears terrestrial and celestial.”

“Hang on,” Kor spun around. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with bears flying. Spirit-bear or not, he belongs firmly on the ground.”

Yu laughed and shook his head. “He doesn’t fly. It was only an expression,” he said, but without conviction. The birds stayed wary after that.

“And the honey offerings?” Shag prompted.

“A trade,” Yu said. “For a glimpse of what is to come.”

“Can he really do that?” Shag asked. “Tell the future?”

“The Bayr can see farther than an eagle and further than a shaman,” Yu answered. “And he can speak as well as a fishing bird, provided he’s in the right state of mind and hasn’t had four wines.”

“Don’t mention wine,” Kor said and feigned gagging. “How long do we have to wait? Flying premonition bear or not, I can’t spend all day out here.”

Yu shrugged. “He normally comes by now. I suspect we’ll not be graced with his presence tonight.”

The birds chattered over top of each other. Yu tried to pick out individual points, but it was tough to pinpoint any logic in the racket. Regardless, it was clear they were unimpressed with spending their day on the water for no reason.

“No, I’m not going home empty-beaked,” Shag said defiantly. “I’ve been rocking on a boat with a stomach full of horror for hours. This Bayr is showing up, he’s telling Yu the future, or I predict I’m going to slap his face.” With that, she spread her wings and pumped herself into the air.

Kor groaned, but spread his wings and followed suit. “We’ll find him, Yu. Sit tight.”

The old man kept the lantern steady. He watched with a small smile as his birds began to circle the rocky island, each wavering a little more than usual. He admired their youthful pluck, though he knew better than to think it would bring results.

He set the lantern down, careful not to spill any burning oil onto the wooden skiff. The birds were young, a boy and a girl tied through wine and ceremony to the recent twins born to his niece. Impractical response to disappointment was the hallmark of youth, whether avian or human. Yu knew better.

He knew how important it was that the Bayr meet Kor and Shag. Knew the impact of sharing the story of his fishing birds and the story of his niece. The Bayr would see the connection, and with any luck would have some encouraging words from the world he could see in the far reaches of days not yet lived.

But he also might not. Yu understood the risks of seeking out the Bayr. The man had lived a long time, and disappointment was, by now, a familiar shade in his life’s colorful tapestry.

The birds had not yet lived long. They screeched in frustration, their search careening toward failure. Above them, Yu watched the sky’s colors morph. The calm of blue failed under the onslaught of sunset. The day fought the night, kicked and scraped and resisted as if just by willing its desire, it could make it so.

Alas, it could not. Kor and Shag circled and squawked, and the sky blazed a final battle in brilliant yellows and oranges, in fiery reds and in despairing purples. And eventually its rage faded. Night came and disappointment, that old familiar blue, followed with it.

Yu took up his pole and began to push himself toward home. The Bayr did not come once night fell. Kor and Shag flew back, and settled on their perches, and cursed the sun and the moon and the stars and, perhaps with some justification, the grapes that were made into wine. It was typical of the young to battle disappointment they could not avoid.

Yu was not young. He would get another chance. The night only lasted until the sun rose again. They would return in a few days’ time. With any luck, they might even be sober when they did.