image from fineartamerica.com
Talons and Horns
"When a fish-hawk strikes its talons too deep in
a fish, beyond its lift, he is carried under and
1(medium wide shot) Young Buck, twenty miles out
of camp, mounted, his blood & mud soaked fringes
on his buckskin shirt dancing in the breeze, his back
to the camera, his new .50 caliber Sharps crossed in
front of him.
2(sound cue) cello & French horn.
3(smooth crane shot) rising up over the hunter’s
back, revealing a small herd of buffalo between
arroyos below him; landscape looking like a mini-
badlands; they were out in the open, feeding at a
walk like antelope.
walk like antelope.
4(close-up) Buck’s eyes--laced with sadness.
5(close up) the Bison monarch’s pink eyes.
6(dolly-shot pulling back) the old bull was a prairie
behemoth, easily more than a ton of hair, bone &
meat--twitching his tail, his hump more than six feet
from the grass, his pelt pure albino.
7(stop at medium wide-shot) a tiny herd of ten--two
young bulls, six cows, & two calves--one of them
also an albino--a spot of adolescent snow in the
8(sound cue) clarinet & coronet.
9(cut to two-shot) Buck dismounted, his Sharps in his
right hand. Over his deerskin shirt, at his narrow waist,
he wore his cartridge belt. A dozen brass rifle shells
rowed across the back of it; pistol shells in the front on
both sides. He unlashed a burlap sack from behind his
saddle; a worn thin buffalo hide to lie on, several stick
yokes to put the hex-barrel into, a dark brown box of
cartridges for the Sharps.
10(sound cue) Voice-over (VO)--Buck: Stay loose,
Rod; stay calm & bag all the adults. If I chase them
on horseback, I’d be lucky to put down two or three
of them. That albino pelt will bring high dollar over at
11(medium wide shot) from behind him, the bison out-
of-focus in the distance. Downwind of them, he
moved slowly on foot. He stopped at about 100 yards
from them, pulling his tools out of the bag, lying down
on the pelt.
12(sound cue) soft guitar chords under Buck’s (VO):
You’ve seen this before; deep breaths--you know
that the ole’ bull will not run. The youngest bull
will break herd formation & lead the cows & calves
off in another direction-while the old albino, and the
other bull will stay & stand; possibly even charge
13(medium close up) Buck worked twelve .350 grain
brass-jacketed shells out of his belt, placing them in
a lethal row on the pelt. He wore the sawed-off by
then--taking it out of its snap-holster, & placing it
alongside the bullets of death. He picked up a pair
of cavalry binoculars, & peered into them.
14(sound cue) high notes--viola & guitar.
15(cut to round telescopic image-medium close-up)
The taurine was scarred up, covered with ancient
angry horn gashes, one back leg was crooked after
being struck by an Eastern iron horse; hanging
from one white flank was a broken Comanche lance,
it’s twin crow feathers fluttering.
16(close-up) Buck--thinking: You old monster. You’ve
lived long & beat the odds. I will hum your death song
because this morning will be your last wake-up.
17(slow rising crane shot) up to a seamless cut to a
drone shot, rising a hundred feet higher, then static
hold as Buck prepared for the kill
18(sound cue) hawk scree over violin screech.
19(hold wide-shot) two beats before a hawk drops
through the frame in steep dive; one blink before
fade to black.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN