by Jill Harris
Sil finally agreed. “Tell you what, if it’s fine tomorrow night, let’s fly up to the arena after everyone’s asleep. It’ll be fun in the moonlight.”
The next day was still and sunny with a calm, blue evening to follow. Sil and Bel waited for the rest of the family to fall asleep. Mem and Pip talked for ages. Sil could hear the tiny squeakings from the egg and knew it would hatch very soon. The moon was rising above the black, scalloped bushline before his parents finally put their beaks under their wings and went to sleep.
Bel hopped silently down to join him. They waited a few minutes longer. Mem changed her position in the nest but didn’t wake. At last, the two birds dropped off the branch and started winging their way across the valley. It looked different at night — flatter, somehow — just bright moonlight and black shadow. It was harder to estimate distances and directions, thought Sil, though he could work them out through his new knowledge of the houses. When they reached the big house with lots of lights, he knew they needed to veer up towards the bush, away from the glittering sea.
As the bush came closer, Sil searched for the opening to the arena. It was much harder to recognise in this two-dimensional world of black and white. He needed to land somewhere to get his bearings. Where could they land safely? If there were possums in a tree they wouldn’t see them until it was too late. If there were cats and stoats, they could climb as fast and silently as moving shadows.
The high beech on his right would have to do. Sil beat his wings faster to make height and glided into the top of the tree. Bel landed beside him and they waited until they were breathing more easily. They were the only birds in the tree and were too high for most of their enemies.
“Will we be able to find the arena?” asked Bel.
“Of course,” said Sil with more confidence than he felt. “I’m pretty sure that’s the big pohutukawa tree up there.” He pointed with his beak.
They took off again and found Sil was right. The black bush opened out and suddenly they were flying up a canyon bathed in silver light with black, bushy cliffs on either side.
Bel looked around uneasily. “We’re very visible here,” she whispered. “I think we should keep in the shadow of the bush.”
Girls! thought Sil. Always worrying about something! He rolled to the left and executed a perfect loop, making the bush turn upside down. How he loved the feel of the cool breeze flowing across his body, and the resistance of the air as he banked his wings and spread his tail. Reluctantly he followed Bel into the blackness at the side of the arena.
Sil recognised the manuka thicket where Bron had lain injured. The pohutukawa reared up on the left, its red flowers black in the moonlight. He caught the faintest whiff of something in the air he couldn’t identify.
“We’re nearly there,” he said. “The dead totara is coming up.”
Its branches would gleam like bones in the moonlight, he thought as they approached. But something was different. He saw, instead, that it seemed to have sprouted small bunches of leaves. He stared in puzzlement and led Bel in another big loop, coming back level with the tree for another look.
And then, as the horrible reality of what he was seeing struck him, Bel swooped across, eyes wide with fear.
“Quick!” she hissed. “Other side!”
As they dived for a tree, the leaves on the dead totara stirred and became birds — large, black and white birds muttering amongst themselves.
Sil and Bel crouched in a beech tree. They could hardly breathe and their hearts thudded like drums. They kept their heads lowered over the white curls on their throats and were absolutely still. They could hear rustling and muted cawings but they dared not look up.
The whirr of wings told them that large birds were swooping and diving beyond their hiding place. If they were seen they would have no chance to defend themselves or get away. Sil felt sick. How could he have been so stupid as to fly so far from home in moonlight when he knew that somewhere in the valley magpies must be roosting.
A rustle sounded higher up in the tree. Bel uttered a tiny squeak of terror and moved closer to Sil. He waited for the attack — the fierce, stabbing beaks, the clutching talons, the terrible, giddy fall as the magpies closed in.
“More-pork, more-pork,” came a mournful call. It was answered from another tree. Sil and Bel looked up. Two moreporks flapped out of the bush and made their stately journey across the arena, straight through the middle of the circling magpies.
“Now!” hissed Bel. “Now’s our chance!” She darted further into the shadow of the tree and hopped downwards. Sil followed and they made their way deeper and deeper into the bush until it felt safe enough to fly from tree to tree. They caught glimpses of the gleaming sea and flew towards it. Birds disturbed by their passing murmured and cheeped sleepily, but there was no sound of pursuit. They had escaped.
13.
Escape
BUT had they escaped? The significance of what they had seen was dawning on Sil. The magpies had chosen the arena with great care. Here few birds roosted because the sun was so slow to warm it up. It was clear that the magpies kept away from their roosting place during the day and only returned after dark when the arena was largely deserted. Now their secret had been discovered. The magpies would be out to silence them, Sil realised. The moreporks may have distracted them momentarily but they would be out right now trying to find him and Bel. Sil went cold at the thought.
“We must stay under cover,” he told Bel, landing in a tree on the bush edge, by the field. “Get in close to the trunk and don’t move. We’re still in terrible danger.” To get home, Sil knew, they would have to leave the shelter of the bush and fly over gardens and houses to the other side of the valley. They would be seen in no time.
“Couldn’t we just wait here till daylight?” Bel whispered back. “Surely they wouldn’t attack us when everyone’s out and about. Anyway, why is it so important to keep their roosting tree a secret?”
“Because they could be taken by surprise when they’re sleeping. They’ll know we want to drive them out, and will be expecting an attack but they’ll want to be ready for it so they can fight on their terms.”
“We’ll have to wait here,” said Bel again. “We can’t fly fast enough if they chase us.”
“As soon as it’s light they’ll find us,” Sil muttered. “There are plenty of them to check every tree on the edge of the bush. They’ll be waiting for us to make a break for it.”
“Shhh!” whispered Bel urgently. “Over there — a flash of white!” Sil peered into the blackness dappled with moonlight. He saw nothing. They sat, not moving a feather. Then Sil sensed rather than saw a small movement several trees away — the merest disturbance of air. He stared intently. The moon was sinking lower and casting its dim light up into manuka bushes to his right. Were those clumps of foliage or something else? One of the bushes shivered but a second later a breeze touched their own tree. Was that all it was? No — he could just make out touches of white which weren’t splashes of moonlight. The magpies must have tracked them through the bush. Luckily, their own tree was in total darkness. He edged with Bel around the trunk.
“They’re in the manuka,” he breathed into Bel’s ear. “You can see the white feathers. We can’t possibly move now, but if the moon shines into this tree, we’ve had it.”
The moon eventually sank without illuminating their hiding place. When it was gone, they waited in the black stillness. When a breeze made the leaves around them sigh, they whispered their ideas for when the lightening came. Their only chance, they thought, was to make a dash for the treetops where magpies seldom went, then to fly around the edge of the valley instead of across it.
“There won’t be time to tree-hop,” whispered Sil. “Just dart out into the open and fly straight up.”
Bel looked frightened. “I’m not very good at that. My wings aren’t that powerful.”
“Neither are mine,” Sil whispered back, “but I can’t think of a better plan.”
Further into the bush, birds started to stir as they sensed the lightening and prepared for the singing-in. The magpies began moving and muttering, waiting for the light so they could continue their search. Sil pressed himself against the trunk and peered around it. He counted ten magpies perched in the bushes. His heart sank — ten against two.
“What can you see,” breathed Bel.
“Oh, there aren’t that many, really. I think we’ve got a chance of out-flying them.” He could see Bel didn’t believe him.
The bush was now green around them and the singing-in began. Sil wished with all his heart he was perched next to Pip on the other side of the valley waiting for his cue to join in. They would be missed by now. Perhaps Pip or Bek would come looking for them, but then he realised help would come too late. As soon as the light strengthened they would have to make their move.
The sun was just touching the top of the distant hills. “Any moment now,” he whispered to Bel. “We’ll head for that gap between the totara and the beech.”
They tensed their muscles in readiness and breathed deeply.
“Heel!” said a firm voice. Sil jerked with surprise and looked down through the tree. A woman was crossing the field with a small brown dog. It was Tom! The dog ran ahead of her, straining at the leash. “Tommy, heel!” she said again and Tom dropped back.
They walked towards the manuka bushes. Suddenly Tom stopped and growled deep in his throat. The woman jerked his lead. “Come on,” she said briskly, “I’ve got a bus to catch.”
But the dog sat back on his haunches and refused to move. His growling was louder now, his ears flat against his head, and the fur along his back sticking up.
The woman clicked her tongue. “Whatever’s the matter with you?” Tom was looking up into the bushes. He started to bark — a surprisingly loud sound for a small dog, thought Sil. The woman followed Tom’s gaze. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “Just look at all those magpies — the brutes!” She pulled at the dog again. “Come on, Tommy, I don’t think we should linger.”
At that moment, a magpie dropped on the dog. Restrained by his leash, Tom could only cower. The magpie hovered, wings a flurry of black and white, and stabbed with its beak. Tom yelped.
“You brute!” shouted the woman. “Get away! Go on, shoo!” She picked Tom up as a second magpie joined the attack. Quick as a flash, the woman unclipped the leash, dropped the dog and shouted, “Go home!” She started to whirl the leash round and round her head. It connected with one of the birds. Thwack! The bird screamed and fell to the ground. Black and white feathers settled around it. Tom circled it, barking excitedly.
The magpies rose in a cloud from the bushes and wheeled away towards the arena.
“Let’s go!” shouted Sil.
They sped across the valley but the magpies weren’t following. They had been routed. For once they were the losers.
As Sil and Bel reached the duck pond they saw Bek flying towards them.
“Where on earth have you been?” he shouted. “I’ve been searching for you since moonset!” He flew alongside them. “Hey, what’s up? You look terrible.”
Suddenly Bel and Sil could hardly keep themselves in the air. Their wings beat slower and slower and they lost height. “You can’t land here,” said Bek in alarm, “far too many cats. Can you make it to the small kowhai?”
Somehow they did, falling into its familiar branches with huge relief.
“We found where the magpies are roosting,” gasped Sil. “At least twenty of them! They tracked us down. We hid. They waited for daylight to kill us.” He couldn’t go on. The enormity of the danger they had faced, and their escape, overcame him. He trembled and shivered, gripping the branch hard to stop from falling off.
“The dog and the woman from the brown house saved us,” said Bel. She huddled up against Sil, also shivering.
“Look,” said Bek, “wait here. I need to tell Pip and Mem you’re okay, and I’ll bring you back some food. Promise me you won’t leave this tree.”
He was soon back with two cicadas in his beak. He passed them to Bel and Sil and flew off several times for more. On his last trip, he brought back flax nectar. They began to feel a great deal better. When Bek told them that the egg had hatched during the night and they had a new sister, they decided they felt strong enough to fly the rest of the way home.
“Pip’s pretty cross with you,” Bek warned them. “You really complicated the hatching by going missing.”
But when they arrived home, Bron’s father was there as well, to hear about the discovery of the magpies’ roost. Pip and Mem said nothing about the trouble and worry they’d caused, but said how thankful they were to see them safely back. Mem was distracted by squawking from the nest above, and before they did anything else, Bel and Sil hopped up and looked into the nest. A very small, pink fledgling with a very large, open beak was squirming around, peering blindly up. They stared.
“She looks funny,” said Bel. “Why hasn’t she got more feathers?”
“Did we look like that?” asked Sil. “Does she ever shut up?”
Mem leaned over the fledgling and coughed some food into her beak. There was a moment’s silence before the squawking began again.
“What’s her name?” asked Bel.
“We’re still deciding,” said Pip from below. “All suggestions welcome.”
Sil and Bel hopped back down to join the others. The horror of the night had been somewhat pushed into the background, until Pip said: “Now, tell us exactly what happened. Don’t rush it — the details are important. We want to hear everything you can remember. And when you’ve done that, you can explain to me what you were doing flying around the valley at night.”
IV
The scouts reported back on the options and by late afternoon the big bird had decided. They would take the risk and move into the big berry tree at night. Although it was visited by many birds during the day, it was deserted by sundown. Few birds lived in this part of the bush — it was too cold.
“You failed,” whispered the big bird, “all nine of you. I sent you after the tuis but you let them escape — mere children, and only two of them — but worse, you broke the rule to avoid the humans.
“As a result, we have to change our roosting place and we have aggravated the humans. You have let the rest of us down.”
He paused. “By morning, I wish to see the evidence that you nine have been punished by your fellows. If I do not, I shall myself punish nine other birds and kill one.”
The birds perched motionless except for their eyes, which darted around noting the position of the nine guilty birds.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” chorused the birds.
“Louder,” whispered the big bird.
“YES!” they screeched and flung themselves on to the nine with cruel beaks and claws. The air was filled with screaming. One bird fell to his death.
The bird with the twisted claw was sickened by the sound and smell of the violence but he felt the eyes of others upon him and flung himself into the frenzy. The small bird, he noticed, had been knocked to the ground in the rush. Would the teeth of a rat be any worse than this? he asked himself.
14.
The Blessing
SIL had to repeat his story at the singing-in next morning. There was great interest, especially in the part played by the dog and the woman. Everyone was familiar with their early morning walks around the valley, and many had seen them the day before.
“That’s the dog that drove off the magpie who tried to snatch my worm a few weeks ago,” said the blackbird who lived in the garden of the brown house. “Fancy him recognising the magpies again.”
“Oh, not all dogs are stupid,” said another bird. “They can be loud and foolish and, as we know, they can be vicious, but I suppose we have to make allowance for individual differences. Anyway, we can be grateful to that particular dog.”
“He’s called Tom,” said Sil, but nobody heard him.
“And Sil and Bel have learnt how silly it was to go out adventuring at night in full moonlight. They were exceedingly lucky not to be killed.”
Sil hung his head at this very public rebuke. Pip had already told him and Bel off in strong words the night before, and now he sensed disapproval from all the other birds. One minute they thought you were great, the next minute you were in disgrace, he thought sulkily. Tor would be loving this. It wasn’t the sort of mistake that birds with leadership potential made — oh dear me, no.
After her initial relief, Mem was pretty cool with him, too. And that wretched fledgling never shut up. Sil felt thoroughly out of sorts with the world and was even pleased when it was time to fly off to his final lesson with Old Sil. Except that Mem decided to go, too.
“I want to hear your new song,” she said. “You’ve been very secretive about it. I want to be able to imagine how it’s going at the competitions, especially as Pip isn’t going this year and won’t be able to fill me in afterwards. It’ll be a nice little outing away from the nest, too.”
They flew up to Old Sil’s tree, keeping a sharp eye open for magpies.
“You’re very isolated here,” Mem said after they’d got through the greetings. “Aren’t you worried about the magpies?”
“That trash!” replied Old Sil. “I refuse to waste time thinking about them. Anyway, what would they want with a skinny, tough, old bird like me?”
He took Sil through all of his exercises and songs without interruption.
“I can’t do any more for you,” he said when Sil came to the end. “You’re performing as well as you can. You’ve worked very hard and it shows. You should win.”