Griffin

Journal of Daniel Jefferson:

Day 6:

“So it’s been six days since I first went for an innocent camping trip up in the mountains near my house, but now I’m wondering how much longer it’s going to last. You know, when you go for a hike in the woods, you never know what you’re going to find, but never for a moment do you expect to find what I did.

I can’t believe that I found a real life griffin! I have rubbed my eyes as much as I think I physically can, and I can tell you for a fact, it’s real. I haven’t tried to approach it yet. I keep thinking about it, but then I chicken out and end up watching it from behind my bush.

It sleeps in the evenings, definitely not a nocturnal beast. During the day it tends to go out to hunt during the peak hours of sunlight. During those times, I have snuck out into it’s nest to see what I can see. I’ve collected some feathers and tucked them into my bag. I hope that when I get home that this is a discovery and that they don’t end up being just average eagle feathers after closer inspection.

I’ve taken some photographs on my digital camera, but I worry that those too will be said to be fakes; computer generated images.

For it’s massive size, it tends to eat very little. Very few animals, like an occasional squirrel or pigeon, and it mostly tends to collect berries with it’s front claws and then bring back the branches of them and then happily lay down and dine on them.

Like in mythological drawings, it have massive front claws, on a body that resembles a the lower half of an eagle, but its hind legs are definitely those of a lion. What’s odd are its wings and its head. In the old drawings, the griffin’s head and wings were simply those of an eagle, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Its wings resemble those of an eagle, but they’re coated in the soft looking fur of the lion, and it’s head is some sort of almost awkward, yet beautiful fusion of the two. Its eyes are definitely those of an eagle and it’s coated in the eagle’s feathers, but the shape of the head is definitely that of a lion. Its very strange, and at first I was put off by it, thinking that it should just be an eagle’s head, but then I realized how stupid a thought this was.

I was looking at a griffin! Who cares what its head looked like, it was beautiful regardless.

Its feathers are sleek and shiny. They are not like that of a bald eagle, but black, like night. They seem to change smoothly into the light, almost white fur of the lion’s body. It also has a mane. But it’s not always present. There are only few moments I’ve seen it, and it’s only been when I moved too much and made a noise to startle it. It springs up, almost like the frill of a frilled lizard. One second there’s nothing there, the next there’s this gorgeous feathered and furred mane that appears around its head, in a very beautiful, yet terribly frightening display. 

The sun is getting towards 1PM, it will be returning soon.”

Day 8:

“I think the time has come for me to try and approach it. I’ve been watching it now for six days. I need to make a move. I’ve been trying really hard to figure the proper way to approach it, and also trying to convince myself that it’s a good idea. 

The first thing that I reminded myself is that, regardless of it’s massive size (did I mention that it probably stands, on all fours, at about five feet in height?), it eats only very small prey. This, I figure, doesn’t mean that it couldn’t take something bigger down, I just hope that it means it wouldn’t.

Secondly, I haven’t seen a single reason yet to assume that it’s an aggressive animal. It seems very docile.

Thirdly, if I don’t do this, I will never let myself live it down.”

Day 9:

“Yesterday I walked out to show myself to the griffin. It went as I could’ve guessed. It freaked! It stood up on it’s hind legs, showing me it’s razor-sharp front talons, unfolding it’s massive wings (with a wingspan of at least 20 feet) and flared it’s beautiful mane, while letting out a screech/roar that was as painful as I hope you can fathom, and then some.

I stumbled back to the trees, and when I did, it lowered itself to the ground, pulled it’s wings back to it’s side, and let the mane vanish again.

I sat down by the trees and didn’t move much. It stood still, in the defensive, but eventually laid down, but never took its frightening beady eyes from my face. I don’t remember having fallen asleep. 

When I woke up this morning, it was still laying there, but its head was curled in by its chest and it was breathing heavily. I figured I’d just stay there, quiet.

It eventually woke up, looked at me, slightly confused, turning its head much like a bird, despite its lionesque features, and then took off into the sky, buffeting me with so much wind that I fell backwards and moved back a good ten feet from where I had been.”

Day 10:

“It came back and eyed me up again, but didn’t really concern itself with me. It ate it’s meal, and then laid back down, closer to me this time; still staring me down until I went to sleep. 

Same things, when I woke up, it was in the same spot, but at peace. It woke up, and took off once again.”

Day 11: 

“It follows the same pattern every day, however it’s been moving closer and closer every time it lands. It seems very interested in me, and it seems to be doing things on its own terms. I’m okay with that.”

Day 14:

“I woke up this morning and its head was up against my stomach. I was in shock. When I reached my hand out and touched its feathers on its head, it woke up quick and took off, showing me its mane.”

Day 17:

“It’s been three days of it sleeping aside me. This morning I woke up and it was laying with me, so that I was it’s little spoon, as though it was protecting me. It was warm by its belly. I can’t believe this is happening. It lets me pet it now, and it even offers me berries and expects me to eat with it.”

Day 21:

“I’m never going home, at least without him. We’ve become something. I don’t know how to explain it. It was on day 18, he bowed to me, and at first I didn’t understand what he was doing, but then I somehow just knew. I climbed onto his back and we took off. He seems to understand me, and me him. I can talk to him, and ask him to fly in whatever direction, or to slow down, speed up, and he obeys, oftentimes I rarely need to speak the words, and I also seem to understand him, not with words, but almost a feeling, if that makes sense. I suddenly will understand when to hold on tight to his feathers so I don’t fall off as he dives, as well as when he wants me to catch a passing bird in my hand. We hunt as one, we eat as one, we sleep as one. I just don’t know what to do next.”