Imagination River

The Nicomekl River flows right by Shelly’s house. It goes round the bend, under two bridges, then out of sight, burbling on its way.

Shelly and her mother go for walks in the Nicomekl. They see crows and robins, squirrels and frogs, grass hoppers and butterflies. Sometimes they see bubbles and ripples in the water, and the sleek shadows of fish, making their way upstream.

“What was that?” Shelly says, whenever the water swirls. But no matter how hard they stare, they can never make out the mysterious fish. So when Ms. Bowes told Shelly’s class they were going to learn about salmon, Shelly whooped and everybody stared.

And when Ms. Bowes said they were going to paint their very own salmon, and stick them to the schoolyard fence, Shelly whooped again! “Imagination River,” Ms. Bowes said. “That’s the name of our project.” But Shelly’s thoughts went straight to the Nicomekl.

“At last,” Shelly said. “I’ll learn something about the mysterious fish that glide under the surface of my favourite stream.” After school that day, she told her mother about Imagination River. Mrs. Hawthorn whooped too. “This will be fun!” she said.

So for the next week Shelly learned there are six different kind of Pacific Salmon: Sockeye, Steelhead, Chum, Coho, Pink and Chinook. She learned that salmon migrate from the Pacific Ocean, into the Strait of Georgia, and up the Nicomekl River, by Crescent Beach.

Shelly was amazed how many dangers the salmon faced in their life cycles and how clever the sleek fish had to be just to survive. “It’s a wonder any of them make it back from the sea,” she said to her mother as they walked along one day.

Mrs. Hawthorn agreed. “Life in the wild is no picnic,” she said. “It’s always a struggle.”

Next time she saw a dimple on the water, she wondered what kind of salmon it might be, and if the fish had come up the river to spawn. She wondered where the gravel nests were, where the salmon lay their eggs, and how the alevins and smolts survived in the shallow stream.

“Aren’t you glad we live in a nice, warm house where no predators are trying to gobble us down for dinner?” Mrs. Hawthorn joked. Shelly imagined what it must be like to swim far out to sea, then all the way home again to breed, only to die. That made her sad. “Why does nature have to be so cruel?” she wanted to know. “Why do animals have to suffer so?”

“I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. Hawthorn sighed. “But I do know that the salmon are brave, and strong, and beautiful, and that they live every moment to the fullest.”

“Today we are going to paint our fish,” Ms. Bowes announced one morning, handing out wooden salmon cutouts and bright pots of paint. Shelly stared at her “fish” and wondered what to do. “Whatever you like!” Ms. Bowes encouraged. “This is Imagination River.”

But all Shelly could think of was the spearing heron, hungry seals, and gulping orca that would hunt her little fish. Yikes! She froze. “What colours will make my salmon safe?” she fretted. “What pattern will fool my salmon’s fierce predators?”

She stared at her blank cutout for a long time. Around her the other children laughed and chattered, busily painting. “Come on!” Shelly scolded herself. “It’s just a wooden cutout.” If she didn’t start soon, Mrs. Bowes would think something was wrong, and Shelly didn’t want to be the only kid who had a problem.

Next to her Lee painted bright green trees and a blue sky on his salmon. “Nice,” Shelly thought, “but it won’t help his fish hide.” On her other side Judy splashed great patches of colour onto her fish. “Pretty, but a little too showy for a salmon,” Shelly thought.

“Hmmm?” She wondered. Then looking down at her pale, white fish, she asked, “What species of salmon are you, anyway?”

“Chinook,” came the answer, and Shelly screeched, just about tipping over her desk. “I am a chinook,” the salmon repeated.

Now the last thing in the world Shelly had expected was a wooden fish that talked, so she didn’t quite know what to do. It would have been surprising even if a real live salmon started talking… but a blank, cutout salmon! That was too much!

“Shhh?” Shelly hissed, afraid someone might see her talking to a wooden fish. “What does Chinook mean, anyway? Who are you?”

“Perhaps you know me by one of my other names,” the fish answered, “King Salmon or Tyee, just to mention two.”

“No.” Shelly whispered. “I don’t know who you are or why you’ve come. Ms. Bowes will think I’m crazy if she catches me talking to you.”

“You summoned me yourself because you didn’t know how to paint a salmon,” Chinook said indignantly. “And now you want me to go!”

“No! No!” Shelly begged, grabbing her wooden fish by the tail and hanging on. Judy gave her a strange look and Ms. Bowes frowned. Chinook chuckled. “Please, help me paint you,” Shelly pleaded. “Tell me what colours I’m supposed to use to make you look real.”

“Well,” Chinook informed her. “My belly is silver and my back is green.”

“I don’t have any silver paint,” Shelly complained.

Chinook considered this, then said, “Dip your brush and see what happens.”

Shelly hesitated, then chose the white pot, dipping her brush. When she lifted it the bristles gleamed. “Wow!” Shelly gasped. “It sparkles.” She dabbed a bit on her wooden cutout, and the paint went on like glitter, taking the shape of scales and fins.

“Four five years I have swum the North Pacific, and many an enemy has mistaken me from bellow for the glint of sun on waves,” Chinook said. “Many skilled hunters have peered down into the ocean, too, and seen nothing but dark water when I glided under their boats.”

As Chinook described her long migrations, Shelly painted… and painted until she had created the most beautiful salmon she’d ever seen. “Wow! Is that you, Chinook?” she asked, amazed at what she’d done.

“That is me,” Chinook answered proudly.

That evening Shelly told her mother about Chinook, and how the spirit of the salmon had talked to her as she painted. Mrs. Hawthorn didn’t think Shelly was crazy. Not at all. She was very proud to have a daughter who could listen for the spirit in living things.

“I will show you Chinook tomorrow,” Shelly said as her mother tucked her in. “Once they have attached all our fish to the school yard fence.” That night, though, Shelly had a very strange dream. She rolled, and thrashed and shouted until her mother came into her room.

“What’s the matter, dear,” Mrs. Hawthorn asked, hugging her daughter.

“Mum!” Shelly cried. “I dreamed all the fish we made at school were swimming in the air. They circled round and round the gym, with Chinook in the lead.”

“Then they headed for the door, all the kids’ salmon following Chinook outside. The others  got caught on the playground fence, but Chinook swam around it and kept right on going, farther and farther away, until I couldn’t see her any more.”

“I ran after her until I thought my lungs would burst, but I couldn’t catch up, Mum. She’s gone, and I’ll never see her again. I know it!”

“It’s okay, honey,” Mrs. Hawthorn said. “Perhaps it was just a dream. Chinook is fine, I’m sure.” But Mrs. Hawthorn felt very sad, too.

Next day they went down to the school to look for Chinook. They checked every salmon on the playground fence. They spotted Lee’s salmon, with its forests and sky. Judy’s stood out too, with its bright patches of reds, yellows and blues.

But nowhere could they find Chinook. When they asked Ms. Bowes, she looked surprised. “All the salmon are up, Shelly,” she said. They looked everywhere for Chinook: under desks, in drawers, in closets, in cupboards… but Chinook was nowhere to be found.

“I’m so sorry, Shelly,” Ms. Bowes said. “Chinook was such a beautiful salmon. But perhaps we can help you paint another.”

Suddenly Shelly felt sorry that Ms. Bowes felt so sorry… especially since she knew Chinook had not been “lost”. “That’s okay,” she said.

“So what do you think, honey,” Mrs. Hawthorn asked as they made their way home. “Are we ever going to see Chinook again?”

Shelly thought about it. Had someone stolen Chinook? Had her fish been painted over? “I d’know,” she replied, still glum.

“What d’ya say we go for a walk in the Nicomekl, my sweet,” Mrs. Hawthorn said brightly. “That might cheer us up, don’t you think?” They stopped at Second Bridge and watched the fast flowing creek, which tumbles over some stones there into a deep pool.

“Do you think we might see her here someday?” Mrs. Hawthorn asked suddenly. “Can you imagine her leaping over the rapids, on her way upstream?”

“What do you mean, Mum?” Shelly wanted to know. “What are you talking about?”

“Chinook, hun. Do you think she’ll come back this way? After all, it is her stream.”

“Come back from where?” Shelly frowned. “From wherever she’s gone in your dream, dear,” Mrs. Hawthorn answered quietly.

Shelly didn’t know what to say, or think.

They peered into the water for a while. The pool seemed cold and dark. But then she sensed something moving down there and remembered Chinook’s words:  “Many skilled hunters have peered down into the ocean, too, and seen nothing but dark water.”

Shelly smiled, remembering her friend’s words. “Yes,” she said excitedly. “I think Chinook will come by this way someday.” She gave her mother a great, big hug, closing her eyes and picturing Chinook swimming through the cool currents of the stream.

They often go for walks in the Nicomekl, Shelly and her mum, and they always watch for Chinook when they do. More than once—they swear—they have seen a sleek, silver shape dart under the rapids and heard the splash of something much bigger than a frog upstream.

On those occasions there’s not much doubting who that mysterious visitor is. Without saying a word, they will nod their heads in agreement, and grin.

Some say Imagination River is just a dream. They think if you can’t point to something, then it dosen’t exist. But Shelly knows different. Chinook taught her that imagination is a river, too, that connects one part of the world to another. She thinks her vision is as real as the Nicomekl itself.

~ The End ~

Hello. Craig Spence Writer here. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed reading and listening to Imagination River. Please consider making a Voluntary Royalty Payment to Diana and I before you leave. And if you want to receive updates about new releases and events, visit my Connect page …