Sunsquatch Sighting: Concord

I continue South.

Rumors reach me, sightings in Lewiston, South Portland, Scarborough. Someone tells me of a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow in Biddeford and I’m sure it’s the same yellow. Whenever they appear they seem to be accompanied by a parade of children rallying for climate action.

When a woman tells me they’ve been seen in New Hampshire, I initially assume she’s wrong, that this phenomenon is specific to Maine. But why should this mysterious golden creature care about human-made borders? So I travel down over the bridge.

I’m directed to the capital of the Granite State, where I stop to charge my car at the State House while I keep my eyes peeled for any signs of climate action. Finally I see a group of students walking down the road, whispering excitedly to each other. Their teacher is bringing up the rear and I walk over to her.

“Hi there, sorry to bother you all but . . . where did you just come from?” The teacher eyes me suspiciously which is fair since I’m still carrying my butterfly net from Katahdin and the bag of apples I bought in Blue Hill. But the kids pipe right up.

“We just had a lesson with Sunsquatch!” one girl says, and they all yell “Sunsquatch!” together. Suddenly I know this is the creature I saw.

“We learned all about the climate and the sun and how we can make electricity!”

The teacher explains to me that they’ve just come from the McAuliffe-Shepherd Discovery Center.

“Like the astronauts?” I ask, confused.

“Yes, this lesson was all about how the sun is the center of our universe and what the sun does for the Earth,” the teacher says. “We’re studying the climate right now. Sorry we have to get back to school.” And the class jogs off, still chattering animatedly about the sun.

Sunsquatch, I think, a little stunned. The yellow makes sense now, if they’re involved with the sun somehow. But where did they come from, and what are they doing now? I need to get to the bottom of this even more than I needed to see that Arctic butterfly.