The following short story is an excerpt from “A Collection of Cultural Myths, Tales and Beliefs About Caribbean Birds” – a fascinating electronic compilation of stories, poems, and art that highlight the roles birds play in shaping our understanding of the natural world, social norms, and even beliefs about the afterlife. The ebook will be launched as part of our 2022 Caribbean Endemic Bird Festival (CEBF) celebrations,  held from  April 22–May 22.

Enjoy this short story by José Raúl (Jari) Montalvo Torres, titled Sweet Bird, which perfectly embodies the 2022 CEBF theme: “Loving Birds is Human Nature”.

Most of my life has been spent near or on the sea. I have always been amazed at the relationship between fish, man and bird. Ernest Hemingway used to fly a kite that looked like a bird when he was fishing to fool and catch marlin.  I have never been as close to this than the time I will now tell you about.

It was a warm summer night in 1996 when we departed La Parguera harbor in southwest Puerto Rico, straight towards Mayagüez Bay.  We sailed south through the buoys until we reached a distance of three miles from the coast. We started to head west, this would lead us two miles south of Margarita Reef, which is a safe distance to be in the nighttime.  We continued this course, 270 degrees, parallel to the south coast until eventually we changed course north towards Mayagüez Bay. 

I was a mechanic on this trip, aboard a research vessel belonging to the University of Puerto Rico. We were transporting a group of students from the Marine Science department that would be attending a class in Marine Ecology early next morning in the Mayagüez Bay.

After about one hour at sea, the electric generator started having problems.  It eventually shut off completely and everything went dark. I moved to the upper deck to try to restart the generator. We needed to keep the freezers going to keep our perishables cold. 

While I was trying to restart the generator, the swells were coming from the stern. The ship just surfed the waves creating a sensation of speed and movement.  A nice feeling in the dark, in the quiet sea. The ship remained quiet and stable.  After passing the Cabo Rojo lighthouse, the ship turned north on course towards its destination of Mayagüez Bay. Now, the swells were no longer coming from the stern.  They came from the starboard side causing the ship to roll wildly. A not so pleasant feeling this time.

The rolling was getting stronger and the boat was becoming more inclined and my position more dangerous. I was unsuccessful starting the generator, so I decided to come down to the lower deck where I would be more secure.  The ship had a crane on the top deck, and it was the crane’s strut that I used as a ladder to climb up or down from this deck.  I put my hands on the “ladder” to hold as I went down.  Just then, the crane swung to the side due to the angle of the ship. I was able to hang on to the crane for a short time but I had to let go.  

I fell into the water and immediately pushed myself away from the hull to stay away from the propeller suction.  I could feel the turbulence created by the propeller.  It must have been luck that helped me stay safe. I was not injured in the fall. I was complete, still in one piece. I briefly contemplated how much worse this could have been.  

Nobody saw my fall. I cried out and yelled people’s names, but nobody heard me. I could see how the ship was leaving me behind, a little bit further every second. I watched the stern light until it disappeared in the horizon, moving steadily north, still on route to Mayagüez.

At a distance I could see lights near Combate beach. Behind me, I could see the light from the lighthouse so clearly that I felt I could swim until I reached it.  Yet, the feeling of loneliness and helplessness took over me.  I swam every way I could to keep myself moving and calm. I swam front stroke, I swam sidestroke, I swam backstroke. I could see some lights on land and was able to align lights and use them as reference points. I noticed that the current was strong and against me, moving me away from where I wanted, and knew I should go. I wanted to swim. I felt lonely and scared.  

I was never afraid of being unable to swim to shore, but I was afraid of darkness, afraid of the place I was floating. I was afraid that any moment I could be pulled down into the deep and be dismembered.  I wanted to cry, scream, or walk over the water.  Every minute pictures of my entire life kept running through my mind, until they kept being interrupted by fear.

I perceived sounds and smells. I could hear voices around me. Every minute seemed to be so long. Sometimes, I could see the stars reflected in the water. It felt like I was swimming in the universe.  I felt part of it.  I could hear the sound that the air makes coming out of a dolphin’s blowhole.  Listening to this sound and trying to figure out where it was coming from, kept me busy for a while.  I felt consoled when I thought that I was being escorted by wandering mammals, who could sense my fear.  At different times I could feel a sweet voice, that without words kept telling me, reassuring me, that I would be safe, a promise of sorts, that “they” were going to help me.

With every minute the dawn was beginning to light up the sky.  My fear was disappearing with the coming of day, and my faith and confidence that it would all be alright were growing. I kept searching for the feeling of peace that the sound of the dolphins gave me, but my escorts seemed to have disappeared.

I could see a bit of sky. I could see the last stars of the night leaving and telling me that there was a new day coming. Then, there was a silhouette above me. It was a bird, flying very high over my head…going around and around and around.  It made me feel happy. Now I could look up instead of down.  Daylight continued increasing and I could make out that my new friend was a male Frigatebird.  I wanted to touch it, to reach it with my hands.

That sweet voice, without words, was now more real to me with every passing minute.  I did not feel fear anymore because, now, I was not alone. With every flight above my head, I could hear, feel that voice, hear that sweet voice going around and around with the Frigatebird. The voice without words stayed with me constantly, talking to me, reassuring me, telling me that it was going to help me.

Sunrise was close. I looked to the east where there was more light, where I could already see the shapes of mountains and coast. Far, very far away, I could hear the sound of a motorboat that had most likely left Combate harbor. I did not know their destination but, according to their course, they were going to pass far from me…maybe a mile away.  It was almost impossible that on this course they would find me.

This is when I noticed something strange. My Frigatebird friend decided to put on a show. The bird flew higher and higher, showing off in the air.  Its movements were very defined and almost flirtatious.  It went up so high over my head that I could hardly see it, but I could still feel the promise of hope it gave me, that it would not abandon me, that it had never abandoned me. 

The sun lit up the mountains on the coast and I heard the sound again…a far away motorboat. The only boat.  It seemed to have changed course. I could see two men putting something into the water that looked like bait…and they were coming towards me. The Frigatebird kept showing off movements over my head and I could see it trying to touch me with its beak every time it circled me. The boat was not approaching because of me, it was approaching because it thought the bird signaled fish. The fishermen wanted to troll the bait under the bird with the hope of catching something good.  I could see the boat getting closer and closer. 

Even at a distance I elevated my arms with the hope of being seen. I could hear their voices asking how could it be possible that a coconut has arms?   And being answered “don’t get too close, it could be an undocumented immigrant”. I started screaming: “I am Jari Montalvo from Boquerón!  A friend of Tano!  A friend of Tali and Annie!  I work in La Parguera! I fell in the water last night!  Come close, come close!”  

It was a local fishing boat called Petrel (another seabird).  The two fishermen who picked me up took me to Combate beach. They kept saying that they found me because the strange movements of the Frigatebird tempted them to change course. It was the bird that brought them to me. 

The “sweet voice without words” that I heard that night, with the dolphins and the bird, kept me safe, kept me calm, and kept me hopeful. I felt this voice once more since then, when I was diagnosed with and successfully treated for cancer. The feeling of faith and hope stays alive in me forever.

José Raúl (Jari) Montalvo Torres

21 March, 2020

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