Sandra Neily here:

In my “Mystery In Maine” series, I had my narrator say this, but I think it might apply to me as well.

“Up close with wildlife of all sizes and attitudes, I liked to create conversations that took me some place I needed to go. Sometimes the effort saved me from trouble. Sometimes it got me into trouble.”  

Recently, I met with a book group who’d read my first novel, “Deadly Trespass.” The opportunity to talk intimately with people who now had relationships with my characters and the book’s contents, was exhilarating. I came home and made a list of what they liked, so I could make sure their enthusiasm got transferred and infused … in detail … with my current writing.

One woman said she very much liked the narrator’s imaginary conversations with animals … the “magical realism” of them.

Wow. Didn’t think I was doing magical realism. I only offer up animal conversations occasionally and they are short and used to reveal character, move the plot, or add to the drama of a situation.

I think most of us have conversations with animals. Often, it’s just us speaking, but sometimes we imaginatively supply their possible replies. I think when this happens, the moment is magically real.

So I thought about some special animal moments I’ve experienced and have decided they were prepping me for my author foray into magical wildlife realism.

For sure. Bigger than a kayak!

In a Florida island state park, I was kayaking with another Maine woman in a sheltered cove. All off a sudden the manatees we’d quietly been watching, started bumping into us, threatening to capsize us. Not intentionally though. “We’re mating. Go away,” seemed the clear message. “OK,” I said. “Leaving now.” And we did.

Yup. Larger than a budget rental car.

Once, on a trip to visit a Wyoming environmental education program, staff warned me to allow time and space for any cranky male I might find in the parking lot. Buffalo are really huge I thought, as one loitered near my smaller rental car. Huge. It pawed the dirt into dust and flicked its tail in a clear message. “Buzz off. Now.” I thought I was giving him lots of space but apparently not. I sent another, “Leaving now,” message and back away. “Not far enough,” my imagination had him say as he turned to face me. “Right. Going far away now,” I said out loud.

In retrospect, these moments (and others) seemed about animals claiming some space or attention in ways I needed to respect. They were teachable moments. Somehow this awareness has migrated to my mysteries.

***********

Here are some magical realism excerpts.

In “Deadly Trespass” Patton meets a wolf when she’s sleeping with her dog, Pock and then later, an angry mother partridge.

I was tempted to squeeze my eyes shut—not look at the bad headed my way—but nothing felt wrong with our lying on the ground separated by a sliver of mosquito netting.

He cocked his head. Where is the man that leaves us meat?

I exhaled. He escaped before he could be caught and caged. Why did you leave the pack?

To follow something humming in my blood.

Stray too far from this land and you will be hunted.

I am hunting now. Is the animal I smell near you available for food?

Pock whimpered in his sleep. With a silent snarl the wolf found its feet, hunched, and froze. All my pores pricked open with sweat. A scrap of nylon tent was nothing.

In the rearview mirror I saw the mother partridge charge my taillights. You driving to a fire?

You trying to reduce the size of your family?

You couldn’t know how good a roll in dust feels.

Is that an invitation? Cause it sounds better than what I’m up to right now.

I saw her hop off the road to find her family as Ian thumped his computer onto his lap.

“You won’t find a signal,” I said.

*********

In “Deadly Turn,” Patton must deal with an illegally-raised eagle and later on, a pine marten as she searches for her dog.

My dog lay wagging in front of a portable dog crate I’d last seen stored in my barn. In its dark interior, one huge, yellow eagle eye found me. Where’s my boy?

This pic was my screen saver. It said, “Get your butt in the chair and just do this.” Hahaha

I knelt before the cage. Causing trouble, but maybe not as much as you’ll cause.

Teddy swiveled his head from side to side, catching filtered light from overhead leaves. I was inches from him.  Holy cow. Your eye’s almost the largest part of your head.

He blinked. We have eyes and brains almost the same size. You should be so lucky.

Well, we’re going to need all the brain power we can find to figure out your future. You can’t stay with the boy.

I’m hungry. The boy lets me catch food.

I saw that. Nicely done.

Teddy thumped his wings against the cage’s sides and beat his beak on the front bars. Let me out.

I pulled Pock away from the cage. Sorry. Can’t do that, but I’ll see if I can find your boy.

He’s your boy too.

Claws scratched bark in my direction, and inches from my face, a small brown face popped up over a log. The pine marten and I were eye to eye. It sniffed and showed me sharp weasel teeth, scolding me with barks that sounded like quick, wet kisses.

Up close with wildlife of all sizes and attitudes, I liked to create conversations that took me some place I needed to go. Sometimes the effort saved me from trouble. Sometimes it got me into trouble. I smiled at the marten. Seen a black dog pass by here?

It snarled back at me. What’s a dog?

Like a coyote but not as smart. He had something shiny flopping around his neck.

A trap? Was it a trap? Are you a killer?

Killer? No. He’s . . . he’s . . . family. I wouldn’t hurt him.

The pine marten cocked its head and rose on its hind legs, huffing angry air at me. You’re all killers.

******

And in “Deadly Harvest” (my next), Patton and her dog Pock are trying to spend the night up in a large tree stand when they meet competition.

 I played my headlight onto the floor and saw a pile of scat. Someone had scratched a few dried leaves over it, but the black tube-like feces looked like someone had already claimed the tree. I looked up and found eyes.

The lynx snarled and settled itself on a wide limb, a leg dangling over each side. I saw you. You followed me today. On the snow. You follow me here?

           No. Finding you was an accident. Honest. I just wanted to spend the night up here.

           So do I.

          Well, we can share.

The lynx stared at Pock and, without opening her mouth, growled low in her throat. Not likely.

********

So please feel free talk honestly to animals and maybe, they will, in a magic but real way …talk back.

Sandy’s debut novel, “Deadly Trespass, A Mystery in Maine” won a national Mystery Writers of America award, was a finalist in the Women’s Fiction Writers Association “Rising Star” contest, and was a finalist for a Maine Literary Award. The second Mystery in Maine, “Deadly Turn,” was published in 2021. Her third “Deadly” is due out in 2024. Find her novels at all Shermans Books (Maine) and on Amazon. Find more info on Sandy’s website.