GOATSUCKER

The farmer came home early from the fields that March evening.

It was a hardening dusk: pained, harsh, cold; like a mortician's stiffening hands.

He walked into the kitchen and set his spade next to the walking sticks. He bent to place his muddy wellingtons on the course mat by the door as he always did.

He paused when he stood up to face his wife. She had a visitor.

He was a stranger. A younger man. About 21. Come of age. Handsome, lean, bespectacled, with an intelligent furrow on his brow. Clean hands. A desk jockey.

"Hello deary, this is my friend from the Birdwatching Society, Voytek. You know, the membership secretary. I've told you about him"

"Ah. Yes, Voytek. Nice to meet you. My wife has spoken warmly of your love of .... birds"

"Likewise Sir. A pleasure to meet you. Voytek Vashtuk at your service."

Bauer nodded and began to clunk around the counter making himself a mug of tea. His wife and Vashtuk had wine so he didn't bother asking them about a hot drink. Besides, he'd sweated all day and bled a little ploughing the bottom field. He just had the top one to do that night before the morning crew arrived to sow rape. It had been tough out there on the dragged land but things had got better of late. He hoped he'd done enough.

Keeping it happy took effort so he was tired and irritable hunched over his mug.

He then noticed how annoying it was how they huddled and chuckled together over their red wine at the big kitchen table, a table he ought to be sat round drinking his steaming tea and eating a hot meal prepared by his wife.

"Are you making dinner?" he asked gruffly

Bauer's sudden question startled the pair from their reverie and his wife looked momentarily flustered. She was sorry. They'd been discussing the Society's last talk on rare birds so passionately that she'd forgotten.

The farmer grunted and noticed for the first time how flushed his wife appeared. Her cheeks were ruddy and her brow a little clammy. Similarly, the younger man's complexion seemed reddened and his shirt was oddly buttoned as if done up in haste.

Bauer's hackles rose like a kicked dog and he glared at the couple, now once again lost in their inane chatter of migrants and mating. Their faces were very close to one another's. Smiling. Laughing. Laughing at him he thought.

His animal-like jealousy erupted on the inside and something snapped. A shadow descended upon him but outwardly Bauer was calm.

"There's a rare bird on these fields at night Voytek" he blurted out as a black opening coalesced in the dark. He rubbed his massive soiled hands together and grinned.

"Yes, I've been told by Diebel its a Nightjar and quite rare in these parts. Worth seeing he reckons" Bauer continued.

"A Nightjar! Wow! That is rare round here! I don't know Diebel I'm afraid but I'd love to see one, I agree with him!" 

"Yes. Well, that's settled then. Tonight we can see it. If you want. I'll be ploughing the top field and can take you up there. We can meet Diebel. You may be lucky Voytek."

Bauer's wife looked at her husband with aroused suspicion. It just wasn't like him to be so accommodating, particularly to any of her friends from town. And Diebel. He'd recently become familiar with this tramp living up in the ruined dairy. The old goat he called him. She'd never even seen him. But why bring him up?

What was he up to? 

Oh No! Surely he didn't think anything was going on between her and this young man!. She was twice his age for God's sake. A boy! But Bauer was as jealous as a ferret and had had run-ins with her friends before. But that was years ago, when they were kids themselves! 

No, despite some recent darkening of his mood, her husband had simply made a kind offer because showing this talented young ornithologist something rare would make him feel good and lift his spirits she decided.

"I'll finish my tea and grab a sarnie and we can go up to the fields. How about it?"

Vashtuk looked at Bauer's wife and she smiled. It was a nervous smile but the young man hadn't noticed any of her apprehension. He was already dreaming of adding Nightjar to his life list. He couldn't wait. "Yes please, Mr. Bauer".

They left together, Bauer clutching his sandwich and devouring it with huge bites. "Goodnight," the young man had said gently to his wife. "Goodnight Voytek," she replied with a slight shiver. Bauer fumed. No matter. He'd see to things tonight. It would be a grand gesture.

"Damn! I've forgotten my spade!"

The older man, a widening muscled giant of a thing, reached through the door and hefted his ancient spade from where a wet spot had formed on the flags. "See you later deary," he whispered as he smiled at his wife.

He found the young man quickly in the stewing dark. "Sharp as hell," he bragged pointing at the spade. He strode briskly past him, whistling, up to the barred gate.

"Come on Voytek, That Nightjar's got your name next to it! I can feel it in my bones. Your'e going to get lucky tonight and see that old bird close up after all, just like you wanted".

They trudged side by side up the sinuous shallow slopes of the farm, going deep into the old heart towards the bottom fields freshly ploughed that day, the long furrows glistening in the moonlight like immense night worms.

"Not far to go now lad. I've heard from old Diebel that these birds where once common round here when he was a kid, sucking the milk right out of his Grandad's goats they were. Yeah, Diebel the old devil told me that these fern-owls, as they were called, could curdle the damn herd and kill the whole yield by God. An evil bird he said, an unholy 'un!"

"Your friend is mistaking the Nightjar's crepuscular behaviour for uncanny deeds Mister Bauer. A popular misconception among rural communities, where superstition is still rife I'm afraid. The so-called Goatsucker is sadly mis-represented the world over. If I can do anything tonight I can hopefully convince you that this bird is as natural and healthy as you and me. Will Diebel be joining us?"

"Yes, tonight for sure. At the top, near the tractor. You can see it there waiting on the horizon. A fine thing. And the plough! It's blades are as sharp as razors. Its been hellish land to work lad but with many small sacrifices on my part I've got it licked and up here they've cut through troublesome sods like butter these last few months!"

Vashtuk was unnerved by what he'd said and for the first time felt a rising unease envelope him. Wasn't Bauer simply showing him where a nightjar might be? Surely he didn't think there was anything untoward actually going on between him and his wife, even if he had to admit to having the beginnings of a crush on her? If it came to it he would have to come clean and apologise to the man.

"Hurry up Vashtuk. You'll miss that goatsucker if you don't get a shift on" said Bauer in a much more commanding fashion than he'd intended. He didn't want to alert the young bastard before he needed to, dammit!

But Vashtuk had picked up on the big farmer's harsher tone and especially the use of his surname for the first time on the walk. What was the meaning of that? Maybe the old billy really did think he was at it with his better half!

They ascended the top slope where the tractor stood watch. "Where's your friend Diebel?"

The older man ignored the question and pointed down to the other side, a jet-black shallow incline of earth sweeping away to the river. A standing shadow condensed on the ridge but Vashtuk was engrossed with Bauer.

The younger man peered through his glasses, straining to see what the farmer was pointing at. His binoculars were useless at this hour and it was only when Bauer produced a torch and shone it down the belly of the dark slope that he could make out a squat horned lump on the course ground, a lump with two glinting eyes staring straight at them in the beam of light.

Seeing these eyes relaxed Vashtuk somewhat. What if the old fella had really found a Nightjar? It would look great at the next meeting when he made his bird report to the committee. And Bauer's wife would be there.

The farmer had strode off again, his torch bouncing as he walked. "Come on Vashtuk!" he yelled much to the annoyance of the birdwatcher, who was making his own way silently through the stunted grass.

Bauer reached within ten feet of the thing first, Voytek Vashtuk second. "The sucker's here!" exclaimed the farmer as if informing another.

The young man asked for the torch, then stealthily approached the hump, bent down and shone the light straight at it, hoping the Nightjar would be too startled to fly off. 

Its eyes flared in the beam and Vashtuk, finding his focus, recoiled in utter horror.

"It's wings have been chopped off!" he screamed, staring at the bloodied stumps on the bird's flanks and the gored things lying on each side, severed cleanly with some sharp instrument.

"Yep, and its legs too, the little milk-guzzling bastard! Me and old Diebel got it good and proper!" growled Bauer through a gritted smile.

Voytek Vashtuk turned and shone the torch up at the farmer standing above him, a shadow stood behind. He screamed a blood-curdling shriek as the older man grinned maniacally and began to bring the flat of his spade down hard on the young man's brow. 

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

But the protest was cut short and the birdwatcher rolled onto his back next to the shuffling nightjar. 

"I told you you'd be lying next to the old bird tonight Vashtuk!" he said roaring with laughter.

"You won't be bangin' my Missus again any time soon you fuckin' little streak of piss!" 

Bauer stomped and raged and raised his huge hands high into the air "Oh! and look, the old devils's here!"

Vashtuk's eyes began to open but only to see the sharp edge of the spade sever each of his arms at the shoulder. The farmer then severed both his legs at the knee.

The young man led there bleeding into the soil, staring with incredulous eyes, glinting red in the glare of Bauer's torchlight. He died next to the bird, its eyes on the goat.

Bauer started up his tractor and set about the night's reward of ploughing the top field. The vast steel curves folded the fed loam like butter just as he'd bragged earlier that night. 

The young man's torso was curled over into the earth and was gone.

With the field successfully ploughed and the dark appeased, Bauer returned home.

"All done!" he said to his staring wife and returned his spade to the wet spot.

"I've brought you some goat's milk for supper .... deary."