There was a change in the air as the brackish smell of swamp water replaced the stench of garbage. Beyond the earthen dike that lay on her left, she saw snowy egrets wading in black-water pools. From vast tracks of marsh grass came the calls of redwing blackbirds wintering in the Carolinas—a sound that made her think of home. No more than twenty feet away, a male bird clung to a tall stock of grass. His shiny black feathers set off his red and yellow shoulder patch, and his head was thrown back as he raised his voice in song. Charlotte paused to listen and to watch. As she watched, a long, slender snout parted the marsh grass like a comb. She saw dark, scaly skin banded with creamy white, and a pair of yellow, bulbous eyes. A leap. A splash. Jaws gaped and snapped shut. In an instant, the bright singer was no more. She flinched. Charlotte was not squeamish. Back on the farm, she had dealt death to hundreds of chickens. It was partly the suddenness of the act that shook her, and partly the creature’s appearance.
