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108 • in the lion’s den After winning the Nobel Prize, and with the incredible success of The Old Man and the Sea, Hemingway seemed happier in his work. There was also a new contemplative mood about him. I would catch him gazing at Grís’ El Guitarrista, which hung above his bed, or looking up out of one of the large windows in his workroom, almost as if he was searching for something in the cobalt-blue sky. There were times I saw him talk to himself, laugh, and move about the room, acting out a scene much like the way actors rehearse their lines. “Don’t think I’m crazy if you hear me laughing or talking to myself ,” he told me one day after I returned with the morning’s mail and caught him standing by the window laughing heartily and talking to himself. “I’m just remembering, reliving events related to what I’m writing.” He was working on the African safari book at the time, and I suppose certain passages made him remember humorous moments. On another morning I went to his workroom to retrieve the breakfast tray. He met me by the door, pencil in hand. “Did you hear that? What was it?” he asked with a smirk. “Quails. A couple just flew by.” Papa then went into great detail about the quails’ early-morning ritual of passing by his window on their way down to the pool to drink. The following morning I woke earlier than usual and headed to the quails’ watering place. At the terrace steps, I heard a quail call followed by the quick flight of the covey. The birds flew to a safe distance and disappeared in the vegetation. I walked over to where they had hemingway’s cuban son 109 been drinking. It was then that I noticed small pebbles bouncing off my feet. I looked up and saw Papa Hemingway, in long khaki pants and shirt, hiding behind the bamboo. “Not like that. You’ll never be able to get close to them,” Hemingway said, laughing and shaking his head. “Even though you tried not to make any noise, you came in from the front. If you’re going to be a good hunter, you have to surprise your prey, not have the prey surprise you.” He told me that I should have been there at least thirty minutes earlier and then taken cover. He went into great detail of how four quails arrived first, two old couples. They were always the first. One of the old males let the rest know it was safe. After drinking water , one couple left and headed toward the tower to post guard. The other couple posted guard on the opposite direction. Then a larger and younger group came to drink. “I knew you were approaching without even seeing you,” he said. “I wanted to confirm what you told me yesterday,” I said. “I knew you would get up and look for the quails this morning. I saw the look of curiosity you had when you left my room.” Early one morning, not long after the lesson with the quails, Hemingway was waiting for me on the terrace when I returned from the pueblo with the morning’s mail. “Nothing wrong, muchacho,” he reassured me. “I was just anxious for you to return from the pueblo. I’m sure a circus came to town last night.” He saw my surprise. “You forget I’m a hunter. I caught the scent of the gaticos last night, and this morning I heard them roar. I bet you were not aware a circus had come to town last night?” I told him that the postmaster had told me this morning. I knew Papa would ask me about the circus, so I had gone to investigate before heading back with the mail. I told him that the circus tent was full of patches from different materials and colors. There were two lions, one with a great black mane, and a younger one, a lioness. All three looked skinny. There were also two Chinese crested dogs, a pinto pony, and far too many employees for such a small circus. “I’m working well this morning. When I finish around noon, we’ll go take a look at those ‘kitties,’” Papa said on his way back into the house. A little after noon, he finished working and told Mary we were going to check out the circus...

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