Jackal and Wolf

by Shen Shixi

  All right then, little things, you can go and play for a while, she thought.

  Flame sat up on her haunches, and created a passage out of the cave. It was a silent gesture, a coded movement. The pups cheered and jumped for joy. They were out of the cave like a wisp of smoke, tumbling and chasing on the grass outside.

  But there were conditions: they had to stay near the cave, and not run off. Flame set the distance at thirty metres, and marked out the territory with military precision, marking key points with her smell. The pups were to stay strictly within the limits of this activity area. Flame climbed a small mound and found a good vantage point, where she could see everything, and her eyes, nose and ears could function in unison. She could see every rock by Buddha Belly Cave, every bush and every tree. The moment she saw the grass tremble, she would order them back to the cave. Her precautionary measures were very thorough.

  The three pups played and played on the grass outside Buddha Belly Cave. They played until they were worn out, then smoothed their fur down with tiny licks of their tongues, and jumped up to play all over again.

  Flame was the most loyal of guards, on the lookout for any kind of movement. Over on the left was a grove of spiky humilis. Although the air was still, its fine needles were trembling. Flame felt anxiety rising inside her. Keeping her eyes firmly on the suspicious humilis, she turned to tell the pups it was time to go home. A few stems were flattened to the ground, then out walked something dark, something she eventually recognised as . . . a hedgehog. Ah, thought Flame, hedgehogs are herbivores, so there’s no threat to the pups.

  She calmed down and glanced over to the birch forest on the right. In the autumn light, the leaves seemed to be plated in gold, glistening as they caught the sun. Suddenly from the forest came a crashing sound. The hairs on Flame’s back stood up in fear, her ears pricked up, on the alert, listening out, as she tried to identify this unwelcome visitor. The suspicious noise stopped and started. Only when two huge creatures appeared between the golden leaves of the birch trees did Flame recognise them as wild camels. In the autumn and winter wild camels often walk round the foothills from the desert area in the north and come south to the Gamar grasslands to look for food.

  Sure enough, the camels emerged from the birch forest, and followed the valley round to the grasslands. They were also herbivores, and would not harm the pups. Flame sighed with relief, the hair on her back slowly settled into place, but she was still on the alert, not ready to release the tension. For Flame it was an enormous responsibility looking after three pups, and she would rather attend to a thousand false alarms, than let one doubt go unchecked.

  Flame kept her eye on the ground. She checked out every single movement. But she missed the threat from above . . . a spotted eagle which made a surprise attack from the rear. This eagle must have had a lot of experience, or it would not have been able to swoop down at such a tricky angle, or have concealed itself so cleverly in the clouds. It must have been hungry, and perhaps had not eaten for days. Very possibly it was a mother with chicks in a nest high up in the cliffs, cheeping for her to return and feed them. It was a big risk to attack young pups with an adult jackal keeping watch by their side. She must have been desperate.

  The spotted eagle is the most ferocious bird of prey in the snowy mountains. It eats a wide variety of food: in the spring and summer it mainly catches snakes, rodents and birds, but in the autumn and winter, when the snakes are hibernating, the rodents have gone underground and the birds have migrated south, it will target anything it can catch. Intrepid adult eagles have a body length of about one metre, a wingspan of two metres or more, and sharp claws like iron hooks. They will often attack bharals. If a small bharal is standing on a steep rock, an eagle will swoop down and push it over the edge with its claws. The bharal falls and dies, and the eagle grabs it in its claws and takes it back to the nest for a feast. If a spotted eagle is really hungry, it will even attack the pups of a predator. It will wait for a moment of neglect, then swoop.

  It had happened before round here. A mother snow leopard had taken her two young pups for a walk in the mountains when all of a sudden a snow rabbit sprang out of nowhere on to the snowy ground in front of them. Of course, the mother didn’t want to let it get away. She had chased after it and returned with the snow rabbit between her teeth, and feeling very pleased with herself, only to find that a spotted eagle had snatched one of her cubs. It had flapped its enormous wings as hard as it could, then caught the air current in the valley and swerved up into the sky. Feeling the sharp claws in its back and neck, the cub had flailed its legs about and cried out mournfully. The snow leopard may be known as the lord of high mountains and snowy lands, but it cannot fly. The mother had been aghast. She could only stare at the sky and gasp as her little treasure had disappeared into the blue sky.

  Now Flame heard the whoosh of wings slicing the air behind her. She whipped her head round and saw a spotted eagle, its wings spread wide, gliding on its downward swoop. The spotted eagle is dark, with a line of white feathers between the tail and the wing, which give it that spotted appearance. At first glance, it looked like an old leaf fluttering down from the treetops. It flew with its legs tucked under its body, but as it came closer it stretched its legs forward, focused on Coldwind and prepared to snatch her in its claws. Coldwind was on the rock, smoothing her fur in the sun. She had no idea death was closing in on her.

  A pup sitting quietly on her haunches on a steep rock! For an experienced eagle this was an easy target, as easy as slipping your teeth through soft tofu. It should take four or five seconds at most. The eagle would fly low in a graceful arc, slip its claws round the pup’s neck, lift it effortlessly off the ground, and with an elegant flap of its wings, soar up into the sky. Poor little Coldwind would be carried off to a nest in the cliffs, a lovely meal for little eaglets.

  Flame leapt up, her powerful back legs thrusting her forward. She summoned up every scrap of energy, and leapt nearly two metres through the air, to land almost at Coldwind’s feet. There was so much power in the leap that when she landed, she could not steady herself on three legs, and tumbled over, nose to the ground. Flame curled herself up into a ball and rolled towards Coldwind just as the eagle drew close, the black shadow of death creeping over Coldwind’s body. When the eagle’s claws reached for the pup’s neck, Flame leapt up and threw herself on top of the pup, snarling viciously. Flame was not fast enough to bite the eagle, but she had certainly given it a shock. It veered away, shaking its wings and tucking its claws back in before taking to the skies. High up and out of danger, it circled in the air and cried out.

  Flame screamed at the three pups to run back to Buddha Belly Cave as fast as they could. The eagle would recover from the shock and come back for more.

  The pups were about ten metres from the cave, and although five-week-old pups have short legs they should be able to make it before the spotted eagle swooped again. Inside Buddha Belly Cave they would be safe from attack from the air. An eagle’s power is in the air, but on ground that power is reduced to a third. If they could get to the cave, then Flame would guard the entrance.

  ‘Hurry up! You don’t want to be food for the eagle. Cover your heads and scamper back to the cave.’ Flame cried. But rather than head for the cave, the pups had been so shocked by the eagle’s attack that they ran to Flame, and huddled by her side, trying to snuggle up beneath her.

  But there was only enough room for one pup, and the three of them pushed and shoved in competition, until there were three heads under her belly, and three bottoms sticking out in the open. What should she do? The pups were young and didn’t know any better. They didn’t know what to do in an emergency. Their first response was to seek the protection of an adult relative. They saw Flame’s body as a safe port in a storm.

  Up in the air the spotted eagle was circling round. As it came lower, its murderous claws stretched out from within the soft feathers below its chest, like a sword drawn from a scabbard. It would strike agai
n soon. Flame could not move fast, and if the eagle attacked, she was in a vulnerable position. How could she guarantee the pups’ safety?

  Flame opened her mouth as wide as she could and screamed like mad. Her eyes bulged. All her anger was coming out. Although on the inside she was silently praying, on the outside she looked vicious enough and she hoped to make the eagle think twice. She wanted it to feel afraid, to retreat, to give up on this attack.

  Unfortunately, these tactics did not work. This eagle was a thrill-seeking daredevil, and came whooshing down in a fearless attack and Flame had no option but to rise to the occasion, standing up on her hind legs and biting out as the eagle’s claws approached. She needed to block it. But this left the three pups without cover, unprotected in the sunshine again. Flame did not touch the eagle. It tucked its feet under its chest, skimmed the top of her head and flew off, casting a terrible shadow and emitting a string of callous whistles as it soared up into the sky. The three pups could sense the bloodthirsty threat from above. They panicked and ran for their lives. Flame roared after them immediately: ‘Don’t run away, it’s dangerous!’

  The pups heard her voice, and scrambled back to her as fast as they could. But before they could take cover beneath her body, the eagle swooped again, its massive wings chopping the sky like a cleaver, a bloodcurdling soul-snatching shriek issuing from its iron beak. Again, Flame had no choice but to rise up on her hind legs against the eagle. Again, the three pups ran for their lives. ‘I’m coming to get you!’ the bird seemed to cry smugly from the sky.

  Flame realised what was going on. This cunning eagle would make a number of pretend attacks to create an atmosphere of terror. It wanted to scare the wits out of the pups, make them run for their lives, and when they had run far enough away from Flame, from their only shelter, it would deliver its fatal eagle-grabs-prey-by-the-neck attack. The pups were already so scared that they couldn’t think straight. Flame needed to foil the bird’s plan as fast as she could, or the eagle really would grab them.

  Flame looked round, and came up with a plan for dealing with the eagle. There were some dense bushes about seven or eight metres away. It was not a big area, but the crisscrossing branches were twisted round with vines and creepers, providing a canopy, and making it a good hiding place for now.

  ‘Quickly, follow me, it’s just like hide-and-seek, let’s go deep into the bushes.’ She called them over, and instead of leading them into the bushes, she gave them a shove and a kick, landing them straight in amongst the foliage. Flame had been so tense she could have snapped. Now she could relax for a moment.

  The spotted eagle circled above the canopy of bushes, crying out. One circle, then another, and another. Its anger and frustration were reflected in her cries.

  Flame screeched up at the sky: ‘Hah, the three pups are in the bushes now, so you can forget that idea! If you’re foolish enough to think about diving into the bushes to snatch them, your body will get caught up in the creepers, and the branches will break your wings. You’ll be all wrapped up in a death sentence. It will take no effort on my part to break your neck. So, if you don’t want to be a headless eagle, get the message: fly away, a long way away. You might get lucky somewhere else, and come back laden with good things – a fat rabbit in your left claw, a dumbstruck grouse in your right – to feed to your little eaglets!’

  The spotted eagle was a stubborn bird. It did not pay any attention to Flame’s warning, but spread its wings in preparation to swoop down. It would not be deterred. Flame was still quite anxious about making preparations for battle. At least the pups had run under the canopy of bushes, and while it wasn’t completely safe, they were more protected than before, and it did offer some resistance to the determined eagle. The bushes did not cover a large area, but they were densely packed at the top, like the thick fabric of an umbrella.

  She wondered how the spotted eagle would try to snatch the three pups now. Surely it would not be stupid enough to dive in through the top of the bushes. If it did that, it would wrap itself up in a cocoon of leaves, tie itself up in a trap of doom, and there would be no easy escape. The eagle’s only feasible method of attack would be to land on the ground, stick its head into the bushes, and drag the pups out with its beak. But this would also be asking for trouble.

  Large birds of prey – like the spotted eagle – are most impressive in the air, but as soon as they land they are as clumsy as grouse. They walk with a waddle, wings half-out, neither spread out nor tucked in. Flame was not afraid of a spotted eagle on the ground. She would seize the chance to go for its neck. She watched as it prepared to swoop, waiting by the bushes, waiting for it to descend: ‘If you dare to land, I’ll have fresh eagle for dinner tonight!’

  The eagle swooped, brushed past the top of Flame’s head, and landed on the bushes. It did not dive into the tangle of branches and creepers, but stretched out a claw and grabbed one of the branches. Then it pulled its massive wings above its head and beat them up and down, fanning the air, and whipping up the top of the bushes with a fearsome noise. It was certainly an original method of attack, and Flame could barely believe it.

  Keeping its body still, the eagle continued to flap its wings, whipping the top of the bushes up into a peak. It had pulled the umbrella closed. The eagle had such power; but the pull of the bushes was equally strong. Neither was going to give. These bushes were so strong and the branches so flexible, that it would be impossible for the eagle to break them off or pull them apart. Let it busy itself a while, thought Flame. It will all come to nothing, and when it doesn’t go to plan, the bird can fly off in dejection.

  But all of a sudden, the eagle roared, and speeded up its wing-beating like a vicious whirlwind. The bushes groaned and moaned, whacked and snapped, until BANG, the top of the bushes was ripped apart. The bird snatched up a clawful of dry twigs and leaves, and flew off into the blue sky, stirring up a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, there was a large hole in the umbrella canopy at the top of the bushes. The three little pups were now exposed, and in the spotted eagle’s line of sight. The little things were terrified and started to run out of the bushes.

  ‘Don’t move! Stay where you are!’ snapped Flame. The bushes were the only cover for about twenty metres, and if they ran out now, they’d run straight into the eagle’s awful trap. Although the bushes were ripped open at the top, they still offered shelter. It was still the safest place for the time being. The pups got the message and did as they were told, huddled together and wove their way back into the bushes.

  The spotted eagle swooped again, and ripped another piece from the top of the bushes. The cloud of dust made everything a blur. Flame’s heart skipped a beat. She had leapt at the swooping eagle, but she couldn’t jump high, and she bit into the airstream created by its beating wings. She could hear the three pups’ shrill cries for help.

  The eagle carried on ripping up the bushes. As the hole at the top grew bigger and bigger, the three pups became more and more exposed. Flame knew that if this continued, it would not be long before the branches and creepers would be stripped away, and the top of the bushes would be opened up entirely, leaving only a few bald stems. As soon as that protective screen was gone, the eagle would stretch its sinful claws towards the defenceless pups. She needed to do something before the bushes were completely demolished; she needed to think of a way of getting the pups out of this danger.

  Perhaps this might be time to use the jackal’s special trick . . . of playing dead. All canines have the ability to play dead. It is a way to trick, and defeat, the enemy. There are two particular ways in which playing dead is particularly useful.

  The first is when the animal meets a hunter or predator that is too powerful to fight, and yet it cannot run away. So it plays dead, show the whites of its eyes, lets the froth drip from its mouth, let its breathing go soft and faint, until its heart appears to have stopped breathing. The so-called death is unexpected, and looks real. Hunters and predators fall for this trick. Believing the animal
is dead, they busy themselves with something else, and take their eye off the ball, at which point the ‘dead’ one seizes the moment and springs back to life.

  The second is when an animal is out hunting and spots some mouth-watering prey that is particularly hard to catch. It plays dead, but is actually laying a special kind of bait. The prey is attracted and when it comes over, the animal jumps to life and grabs it.

  Foxes are particularly good at playing dead. Flame had seen this for herself. Early one morning, she had seen a snow fox walking along under the trees when it spotted a squirrel gathering berries on the ground. The squirrel had been startled and ran up the tree as fast as it could. The snow fox watched it, slavering at the mouth. But snow foxes cannot climb trees, and the squirrel had leapt along the branch out of reach. Rolling its eyes, the snow fox had jumped into the air, then fell to the stony ground. Its legs twitched, then went still. At first the squirrel didn’t believe that the snow-fox was dead. It had waited on the branch of the tree and wouldn’t come down. Then a crow flew by. Crows have big beaks and are scavengers. They are known as the undertakers of the forest because they eat animal carcasses. The crow had circled slowly in descent. At first it looked as though it would grab hold of the snow fox with its claws, but then it had suddenly flapped its wings and flown up into the sky. The snow fox lay on the ground not moving a muscle. When the crow went to investigate, the squirrel stood on the branch watching, unable to take its eyes off it. The crow had landed on the snow fox’s back, and pecked off a clump of fox fur. Still there was no reaction from the snow fox. It really looked as though it was dead. How else could it have tolerated the crow’s plucking its fur? The squirrel had relaxed, run down the tree and carried on looking for berries. But the moment the squirrel’s paws had touched the ground, the snow fox leapt to its feet and pounced on the squirrel at lightning speed. The poor squirrel had become another victim of the forest and of the scheming plans that take place there. Weaker animals of lower intelligence stand no chance against such mastery at playing dead.