by Jill Harris
There was something in his voice which Mem picked up instantly. “You’re not sure about something, are you?” she said. “Is it his original composition? It’s certainly not like anything I’ve heard before. All those human sounds make me feel uneasy. They’re beautiful and clever — indeed, the whole song is amazing, but somehow the beauty has a dark undercurrent.”
“That’s what makes the song so powerful and disturbing,” said Old Sil slowly. “Young Sil has tapped in to something very fundamental.”
“It was a bit like flying in a gale,” said Sil. “I got blown in directions I didn’t actually mean to go. It felt dangerous and exciting at the same time.”
“It breaks new ground,” said Old Sil. “The judges won’t know quite how to respond to something so new and different. You’ve produced a very fine and unusual song.”
The three birds were silent for a moment. A sudden gust of wind brought a scattering of raindrops.
“We must leave before the wind gets too strong,” said Mem. “A gale’s been brewing from the south all the morning.”
Sil stirred and moved along the branch. He stretched out his head towards Old Sil. “I need your blessing for the competition, Old Silver Song,” he said quietly.
Old Sil raised and lowered his wings three times over Sil. He rested his beak on Sil’s head. “May the spirit of the sky, the spirit of water and wind, the spirit of the trees, the spirit of light and dark, and the protector of all plants and animals bless and keep you. May your wings never fail and your song never falter. May you always rest in the heart of the great family of the birds.”
He drew back. “Now, Young Sil, eat as much as you can over the next few days to build up your strength — it’s a long flight around the harbour. Just do basic practice each morning but don’t go flying up to the arena to practise your song. Don’t sing in the lightening. Take it easy. And remember, once we leave, I’m not your teacher any more. I become a song judge and we can’t talk about the competitions. If you have any worries, Jeb is the bird to talk to.”
Mem and Sil flew home through rain which became heavier by the minute. They stopped briefly at the flax hedge to top up, clinging to wet, greasy stalks which swayed in the wind as they plunged their beaks into the dark red flowers. Back at their tree, Mem shook her feathers vigorously before she relieved Pip on the nest and fed a beakful of nectar to the fledgling.
Several days had passed and they still hadn’t given her a name. They’d got it down to a list of three — Roz, Lil and Flo.
“Mem and I should decide ’cos she’s a girl,” Bel insisted.
“Nonsense,” Bek replied. “There are three guys in this family as well as three girls. Let’s vote.”
“Pip and I will have the final word,” said Mem firmly.
And the next morning they announced the name would be Roz. “That was my grandmother’s name,” Mem said, “and we’d like to keep it in the family.”
Mem spent a lot of time talking to Roz, Sil noticed. Roz tried to talk back but it made no sense — it was just babble. I wouldn’t waste my time, he thought. But the next time he was on nest duty he found himself doing the same. There was something in the way Roz cocked her head and looked up at him with her bright eyes. She was quite cute, really.
She was beginning to stretch out her wings and flap around the nest. It worried Sil. What would he do if she managed to climb up and over the edge? He found himself explaining to her that she wasn’t ready for that. It would be dangerous. Pip and Mem would teach her how to fly in due course. She stopped squawking and flapping and listened to him — almost as if she understood, though Sil knew perfectly well she didn’t.
He found he didn’t mind nest duty nearly as much as he thought he would. Funnily enough they all felt the same way and he was never kept waiting by his replacement. Bel, Bek, Pip and Mem — one or another would fly down beside him and say cheerily: “Off you go, my turn. Anything I should know about?”
Sil visited Bron every day and gradually got over his hurt feelings. It didn’t even matter that Tor was there sometimes. They were polite to each other. Bron would grin. “Go on, you two, have a good fight! I can’t handle the peace and quiet.”
Bron was now able to branch hop though she hadn’t tried out her flying. The kereru dropped in regularly to examine her wing. “Very nice, very nice,” she would murmur. “That manuka works miracles. The wing will be as good as before the accident.”
Bron always brought Sil up to date with the magpies. Her father was in the middle of the action. Every day she told Sil about attacks and near misses, rescues and deaths. The two-bird patrols were going out as often as numbers allowed, she said. Jeb had asked her to plan the rosters. Sil knew that Bek came home tired out and had to go off again before he’d had a proper rest. Once Tor’s brothers left for the competitions, it would put even more strain on the patrols.
“Things are coming to a head,” said Bron soberly. “If only the humans would take a hand, but since that last attack on the dog, the magpies haven’t gone too near humans — they’re cunning enough to see that’s not a smart move. They’re cruel as well as cunning,” she went on, and told Sil how the magpies attacked and wounded or killed parent birds so they could seize the fledglings. “The crying is terrible some days. We all hear it. I do wish I could join the patrols.” Sil felt guilty that he wasn’t allowed to, even though he recognised the sense of the ban. His job was to get ready to fly to the competitions and win them. It was the same for Tor.
The remaining days slipped away fast. On the evening before departure, Sil perched in the tree and looked across the harbour to where they would be in three days’ time. Lights twinkled on the distant hills beneath a pale lilac sky. The slate-grey sea moved and murmured like something alive. If they flew straight across it instead of going around the edge, they’d get there in a quarter of the time.
“Tuis are land birds,” Pip told him when he suggested it. “The sea is treacherous and dangerous. It is as deep as the sky is high and many birds — even sea birds who understand it — have died in its fearsome clutches.” Pip looked very sombre and Sil remembered that Pip’s brother had died at sea, and Tor’s father.
Try as he might to stay calm, Sil’s heart beat faster than usual at the thought of what lay ahead. Mem and Pip flew down to sit beside him.
“We wish we were coming with you, son,” said Pip. “But you’ve already done it once and you know what’s involved. We feel sure you’ll manage without us. From what Mem tells me about your new song, you’ve done something important.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Sil wearily. “I just made up what I had to, and I can’t help what other birds make of it. In a way, the competition doesn’t matter to me as much as the song does.”
“We know you’ll do your best,” said Mem. “Even though we won’t be there, you’ll be surrounded by friends and birds who wish you well. Jeb is there to sort out any problems and don’t forget that Bel is a great fan. She’ll be cheering for you.”
It’ll be a relief to leave tomorrow, thought Sil. I’ve done nothing but think about the competitions for weeks. It gets in the way of summer. I’m going to have a good time when I get back.
15.
The Journey
“SIL, wake up.” It was Bel nudging at him with her beak. He stretched his head up and fluffed his feathers. It was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds. Sil remembered. Today they were leaving for the competitions. His heart jumped.
“We’re meeting in the puriri tree by the pond,” Bel reminded him. “We’ve got plenty of time to groom ourselves — that’s why I woke you early.”
Side by side, they combed themselves thoroughly with their beaks, squeezing out the oil from the base of their tails and spreading it through the feathers. Sil knew this wasn’t something to be hurried. Their flying ability depended on it. “Spread the oil and spread the wings,” went the saying. There was something very comforting about sitting next to Bel and grooming himself.
It went right back to when they were fledglings no older than Roz. He was really glad Bel was coming with him.
Bek and Pip hopped down to their branch.
“Mem needs to stay on the nest,” said Pip. “Roz is getting very active and shouldn’t be left alone. Just hop up and say goodbye before you leave.”
“Are you nearly ready?” asked Bek. “I know Jeb wants to get away before the magpies are stirring.”
Bel flexed her wings. “Feels good,” she said and hopped up to the nest followed by Pip.
“How are things between you and Tor?” Bek asked Sil.
Sil shrugged. “A kind of ceasefire, I suppose.”
“He’s okay, you know,” said Bek. “Not as rough as his brothers, though they’re going along to provide protection. Any trouble from outside, they’ll be there to help you. Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t trust them,” said Sil. “They’ve pushed me around too often. At least that bully, Sep, isn’t going.”
“Yeah, I can understand that,” Bek replied. “Just the same, it’s their job to get everyone home safely. You’ll have a good time. I wish I was coming. Your song sounds pretty interesting. Good luck.”
Sil said goodbye to Mem and he and Bel flew off, down to the puriri tree where the rest of the party were feeding on its nectar. Sil didn’t feel like eating but he knew he had to.
“Have a good breakfast, everyone,” urged Jeb. “It’s a long flight to the next stop.”
He explained the flight plan. He and Mip would take it in turns to lead. Old Sil, Tor, Bel and Sil would fly behind the leaders and Tor’s other brother, Wol, would fly at the back. They weren’t trying to set any records, Jeb said. They would fly at a steady pace that everyone could manage comfortably. It looked as though there would be light rain, but luckily there was no wind — so far. The gulls were saying the weather would turn later in the week, though. They’d deal with that when they had to.
They would take a break in the large pohutukawa in the fourth bay along. The family whose tree it was were always reasonable and even welcoming. They liked to catch up with the news, said Jeb, especially on the return journey.
His cousins lived on the edge of a park across the big river, and would put them up for the night. There was plenty of food in the gardens nearby, as some of them would remember from the journey last year. “Really succulent stick insects,” he grinned, “deliciously crunchy!”
“And that’s enough for now. Any questions?”
Wol spoke up. “If anyone needs to stop, just wiggle your wings and I’ll let the leader know. Give us some warning if possible, as we have to find a suitable tree. Try not to leave it till the last moment.”
“Wol and I are coming along to deal with any bother,” said Mip, “so let us know at the first signs of trouble and we’ll be in there quicker than a stoat up a tree.”
“Okay, that’s it then,” Jeb said after a pause. “We’ll be climbing steeply at first because we want to fly well above the bush. He launched himself into the air, his wings beating powerfully.
The day went according to plan. The tuis winged their way steadily north, through light mist and drizzle. It was a world of green and grey, silent but for the faint hiss of air and the beating of wings. Sil found he had no spare breath for talking, and he was glad when Jeb glided from time to time to give them a few seconds of rest, usually when Old Sil and Bel had dropped behind a little.
They landed in the pohutukawa as scheduled and took a long break. The nectar tasted as good as Sil could remember, and they drank deeply from puddles on the road beneath the tree.
“No more near misses?” said the tui who lived there. He was the bird who’d growled at Sil and Bron after their game of floop some months back. Jeb cocked his head but said nothing. Sil hopped up to another branch to discourage further comments. Tor was there. Sil looked at him warily.
Another local bird joined them. “So you two are rivals again,” he said. “Who’s going to win this year?”
Neither answered.
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongues? Oh well, we’ll hear all about it when you return. Good luck to both of you.”
Sil hopped across to Bel. “How’s it going?” he asked quietly.
“I’m keeping up,” she said, “but I wouldn’t have minded stopping a bit sooner. It’s pretty amazing being up so high. You look down on the bush and think of everything that’s going on down there but all you can see is a green blur. You realise that your own valley is rather small. The sea’s awfully big, too.”
“Wait till you see the big river valley soon. It’s ten times bigger than ours with a hundred times more houses. There’s hardly any bush — just big trees growing on their own. You have to watch out, too, for the cloud from the big houses near the river — one breath of it and you can’t fly. Jeb will keep us well clear of it,” he added, noticing Bel’s worried look.
Resuming their journey, they flew away from the sea and soon left the bush behind.
Sil had forgotten just how far the valley stretched. It was a long, tiring flight, made worse by rain which started to fall as they crossed the big river. The steady pattering pressed on his wings and it was harder to maintain height. He could see Old Sil was struggling and when he fluttered his wings, Wol flew forward to tell Mip. They began to descend as Mip searched for somewhere to land. It was hard to tell how tall the trees were. From high up, blobs of green could be bushes or trees. Old Sil was flying slower and slower; they would have to land soon. Up ahead to the right, Sil could see a small patch of red. He flew alongside Jeb and pointed it out.
It turned out to be a flowering gum. They all changed direction and quite soon they were in its branches snacking on nectar. Wol and Mip kept an eye open for local birds but no one challenged their right to be there. Sil thought it was curious that such a wonderful source of food was there for the taking.
They were all glad of the rest, though Old Sil was clearly much tireder than the rest of them. He sat a little apart, pecking for insects. A good idea, thought Sil, and he hopped further up to find a likely branch. Bel joined him. They pecked away in companionable silence moving systematically towards the trunk, collecting nectar too. Sil hopped up another branch into a clump of leaves and flowers.
In an instant the air was filled with angry buzzing. He cried, “Wasps!” and heard Bel scream. Through a cloud of black and yellow bodies he saw her topple off the branch. A piercing pain shot through his chest, and another. He took to the air, flapping frantically and diving and swooping to shake off the wasps. Bel was doing the same, but falling too.
All the tuis had fled the tree and were circling in confusion. Mip flew at Bel to warn her not to land. Jeb darted around Sil, snapping at the wasps.
“Do what I do!” Jeb shouted and sped at a large green bush. Hardly slowing, he dived into the wet foliage with wings beating wildly. Sil followed. He’d never bush-bathed before, and braced himself for a battering. Ahead, Jeb twisted and turned, right out the other side and Sil found he could do the same. The wasps were left behind, but they had taken their toll. On the ground beneath the circling birds crouched Bel, unmoving.
16.
A Brush with Death
BEFORE anyone could stop him, Sil swooped down to join Bel on the ground. He knew about dogs. He knew about cats. And stoats and weasels and rats. He didn’t give them a second thought. Bel was his sister and she needed him.
She looked dazed and was struggling to breathe.
“How many stings did you get?” asked Sil, but Bel just gasped and wheezed. Sil felt afraid. What if she stopped breathing?
He looked around quickly. They were very exposed. They’d be better under the bush he’d just flown through, but it was obvious Bel couldn’t move. Sil was relieved when Jeb landed next to them.
“She can’t breathe properly,” said Sil.
“It’s a reaction to the stings,” replied Jeb.
“We can’t stay here,” said Sil. “We’d be better underneath
the bush.”
“We can carry her there,” said Jeb. “Close on either side of her, we can lift her off the ground with our shoulders and hop. Do you think you can manage that? How tired are you?”
“I’m okay,” replied Sil. “Let’s give it a go, there’s no time to waste.”
Jeb explained to Bel what they were going to do. She gave no indication she had heard as she laboured to breathe.
“We’ll do it four hops at a time with a breather in between,” said Jeb. “Lift when I say so, and I’ll count.
“Lift, one-two-three-four, stop. Lift, one-two-three-four, stop.”
Wol landed beside them. “You’re making headway,” he encouraged the panting birds. “Shall I give you a break, Sil?”
But Sil was determined to do it himself. He could feel Bel’s racing heart and straining chest, and the heat from the lumps on her body. He had to help his sister through this. “Thanks,” he gasped, but kept going.
Hop by hop they moved closer to the bush. Wol’s presence was reassuring. Sil knew that Wol would protect them if necessary.
At last they reached shelter. Mip flew down and the four birds stood around Bel, watching her fight for air. Her wings rested half-open on the ground and her head was stretched out, beak open and tongue showing. Sil felt wretched. Why did I fly into that clump without knowing what was there? he thought miserably. This is the second time I’ve put Bel in danger.
“She needs water,” said Jeb. “Help me gather some off the leaves, Sil.” They made several trips back and forth. They held Bel’s head up and dripped the fluid into her beak. Sil thought her breathing was becoming a little easier. She raised her inner eyelids and seemed to realise what was happening, opening her beak of her own accord. Sil looked at the lumps on her neck and chest. She must have had at least five stings. The white curls of feathers jumped with the pounding of her heart.