Sil

by Jill Harris

  “I’ll just check the garden,” said the man.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t bother,” said the woman. “Funny, if it was a bird, to be making such a noise at night. I hope Daisy hasn’t been on the prowl again. She brought me a baby thrush the other evening.”

  The humans went inside and closed the door. Sil let out his breath.

  “That was fantastic!” whispered Tor. “Those shrieks made my skin crawl.”

  They looked about carefully. When the moon went behind a cloud they flew on to the next house. It was already in darkness. Maybe it was empty.

  “They were here this afternoon,” murmured Sil.

  “Look,” said Tor quietly, “there’s a car round the side. It wouldn’t be there if they’d gone out, because that’s how they move around.”

  They watched for cats, but saw no movement.

  “Okay, I’m off,” said Tor, and flew fast towards the house. He looped and swooped, climbed and dived around the house, letting out blood-chilling cries. As he flashed past a window, it opened suddenly, almost catching his wing. A small human looked out. Tor flew straight up and perched on the roof out of sight.

  A light went on in the room and a second small human looked out.

  “It was a bird,” said the first.

  “It couldn’t have been,” said the second. “They don’t fly round at night.”

  “Some birds do,” said the first. “Moreporks.”

  “That wasn’t a morepork, stupid. Not that noise.”

  “I’m not saying it was,” said the first. “It was black and smaller than a morepork.”

  Another voice came from inside the room.

  “Will you kids get back into bed! What are you doing? It’s after midnight!”

  A hand reached out and shut the window with a bang.

  Tor glided silently back to Sil. “Whew, that was a lucky escape! They nearly hit me. Keep your distance from windows, is what I learnt.”

  The third house had a dog tied up in the garden. It barked furiously as Sil flew round and round giving out his harsh cries. A very angry man flung open the door and shouted at the dog. “What’s the matter with you? Scared of birds?” The dog cringed against his kennel. The man went inside, slamming the door loudly. A light went on in the house next door.

  Sil and Tor couldn’t resist one more circuit of the house, screeching loudly to tease the dog which jerked on his chain but didn’t dare bark again.

  They flew on to the fourth house, hiccupping with suppressed laughter. They were beginning to enjoy themselves. They landed in a kowhai tree to get their giggles under control.

  “Halfway through,” said Sil, “and we’re one up. We disturbed two houselots at that last place and maybe the house on the other side, as well.”

  “My turn again,” said Tor. “It’s quite hard on your throat, isn’t it? Darned if I know how you mimicked so many different sounds in your new song. It was quite something, y’know, that song — you should have won. The judges were just old fuddy-duddies.”

  For a moment, Sil couldn’t trust himself to answer. “Thanks, Tor,” he finally managed to mutter gruffly.

  The fourth house had a coop full of hens. Tor made three circuits of the house which put the hens in an uproar. But when they realised this wasn’t a magpie out to steal their chickens, they watched the display with puzzlement. The house was soon ablaze with lights and Sil could hear a baby and another small human wailing loudly. He felt a pang of guilt.

  The last two houses were among the bush on the hillside. “This is the dangerous part,” said Tor. “There’ll be a lot more enemies up here, and for all we know it might be where the magpies roost.”

  They had decided earlier to fly to a large, flowering gum, which would give them a clear view of their targets. They climbed to a good height and glided around the gum tree before landing on its topmost branches. They sat still and silent, looking and listening intently.

  The moon was sinking and they realised that time was running out. “It looks okay to me,” said Sil, “I’ll go in now.”

  At that moment, two powerful lights arced through the bush and lit up one of the houses. “It’s one of their cars,” said Tor. “Gosh, lucky escape — they could have caught you mid-flight and seen you weren’t a magpie.”

  “Bother,” said Sil. “We’ll have to do the other house first.”

  “No, wait,” said Tor. They’ll turn those lights off in a moment and walk to the house. If you stay up at roof level your calls will give them a terrific fright.”

  Tor’s tactic worked well. As the humans walked along the path, eerie screeches burst from the darkness above them.

  “Good grief, what’s that?”

  “It sounds like a bird, like a …”

  “Horrible.”

  They hurried inside.

  The two birds completed their night’s work and flew back to the kowhai tree. Others flew in from different directions. Everyone reported a successful night. They had created a lot of noise and bother and no one had been hurt. The tree buzzed with excited whispers until Jeb called for their attention.

  Looking pleased and relieved, he said: “This is going to work. You birds have done really well tonight. I could hear the noise even from here. It echoes around the valley. We’ll meet in the pohutukawa again in the morning and swap notes. Off you go now and sleep. I’ll let you know what I pick up from the singing-in in the morning.”

  Sil realised how tired he was. The excitement had kept him going but now, more than anything else, he wanted to sleep. He, Pip and Bek flew home together.

  They shared their adventures with Mem and Bel, who had stayed home. She and Bron were taking turns on duty in the supporters’ tree. It would be Bel’s turn tomorrow night, and Bron’s mother would come over to keep Mem company.

  Sil listened to the murmur of chatter between Mem and Roz. He was about to tuck his beak under his wing when he remembered Tor’s remark about his song. Tor seemed to be saying that the judges were wrong. But Old Sil had been one of those judges. If only he were still alive, thought Sil, he could have told me where to go next with my singing.

  The next day the whole valley was buzzing with stories of magpies flying around houses during the night, making the most terrible racket. The tuis had to pretend to be puzzled, too. It was unnatural for day birds to be out and about at night. What were they up to? Was this the beginning of a campaign of night attacks? Would they have to stay awake all night in case? Sil wished he could give the small birds a hint that everything was going to be all right. But he was sworn to secrecy.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. After the meeting, he and Tor surveyed the houses mid-valley to be covered that night. They picked out the best trees to wait in. They noted which houses had cats or dogs. Then they ate their fill of insects, drank at the flax hedge and flew home to have a rest.

  VII

  Their mood was edgy and sullen. This was a setback. They were afraid of what the big bird would say.

  He called them together on the broad, lower branches of the berry tree.

  “The tuis think they can outwit us,” he whispered. “They are fools and they will pay for it. There is no room for tuis and magpies in this valley. When we return with females, we shall roost in the tuis’ trees and eat their food. Their voices will be heard no more.

  “It is time for the final drive. Time to finish the business. We shall use a rush. You know what you have to do. Wait for the signal. When it comes, you will drive forward like a mighty wind. The air will be dark with falling birds. The ground will be carpeted with bones and feathers. Screaming will turn to weeping.”

  The big bird perched hard in to the trunk where moonlight did not pierce the shadows. The birds were tense with the effort to see and hear him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked them.

  “Yes!” they cried.

  “Louder!” he whispered.

  “YES!” they shouted.

  A sudden gust made the berry tree groan and
fling its limbs about.

  The big bird continued. “Where is the bird with the twisted claw? Let him stand before me.”

  The bird was pushed along the branch, up close. He knew he shouldn’t have returned after his failed attack. He should have flown away, on and on until he dropped.

  “You have forced this crisis upon us,” whispered the big bird. “You attacked the old tui and stirred up the anger of all the others. That is why they have launched their campaign to drive us out. You did this stupid thing because you are weak and could only attack an old bird.”

  He shifted closer. “You have been a burden to us since the beginning. Now we shall rid ourselves of you forever.”

  He faced the other birds. “Where is the volunteer who will do this thing?”

  “I will, I will!” shouted every voice.

  The bird with the twisted claw looked into the eyes of the big bird. His heart jumped and thudded. He gathered all his courage.

  “You are monstrous,” he said. “You will be remembered with loathing forever. You are a disgrace to the great family of birds.”

  The merest quiver ran through the listening magpies — a quick drawing in of breath, a tightening of claws on branches.

  The bird with the twisted claw pushed off from the tree and winged swiftly down the arena. He flew over the fields and out across the sea. He thought about the small bird who had paid with his life to be his friend. He remembered how the old tui had fought back and how the young tuis had come to his aid. He recalled the sound of the singing-in of the lightening. The cool night air flowed over his feathers and cleansed them. He flew on and on, heading for the sun’s resting place far, far away.

  27.

  The Strike Back

  BY the end of the third night Sil knew they would succeed. They had awoken humans, frightened, annoyed and disturbed them right across the valley.

  But the campaign was taking its toll. The birds in the assault team were extremely tired and they were losing their voices. Only a handful of them could talk above a croak.

  Jeb called them to a meeting on the fourth morning.

  “We’ll have to take a break,” he said. “We can’t keep this up.”

  “But we’ll lose momentum,” protested Bek, who could still talk. “If we pause, the humans will think the problem’s gone away. We want to drive them to desperation. Besides, the weather’s changing. The gulls say the wind will be strong tomorrow.”

  “On the other hand,” said Sil whose voice was husky even though his singing training was standing him in good stead, “imagine if we stop for a night so they start to relax, then start the noise again. They won’t know where they are.”

  Jeb was silent for a moment. “Those are both good points,” he said. “The trouble is, we haven’t got enough birds with voices left.”

  Tor spoke up. “There are about six of us who can still make the magpie cries. Do we need to cover as many houses this time? The noise carries a long way. Just hearing it in the distance should be enough to get the humans worked up. We could target houses with dogs. They go crazy when they hear us. They make far more noise than we do and the humans have to come out and make them stop. Even six of us can cause a lot of bother. I vote we keep going.”

  “I can make the calls from a nearby tree,” said Bel. “I don’t have to fly around. That would make seven of us. What about you, Bron?”

  “I’m on,” said Bron. “I think we should keep the pressure up.”

  Jeb and Pip talked together in low voices.

  “It seems we have enough birdpower to continue,” said Jeb, “but we will take a night’s rest and start again tomorrow night. Look after your voices in the meantime. Make sure you spend the day quietly, and we’ll meet again tomorrow morning.”

  . . .

  When he thought back later, Sil remembered that he felt it before he heard it. It was as though the air were suddenly thicker and the pressure made the leaves move, almost imperceptibly. He remembered lifting his head from talking to Roz in the nest and staring around him, puzzled. Then the noise began, some distance away — a whistling, whirring, rushing, rattling, pattering and tearing which rapidly grew louder. Then the screams and cries started. Before Sil could work out what he was hearing, birds rushed past him like a cloud of dust and leaves before the wind.

  “What’s happening!” he shouted but nobody answered.

  The noise behind them rose to a crescendo of fear and pain. But now, above it, Sil could hear the familiar, blood-curdling screeches.

  “Get out!” gasped a bellbird as she fled through the bush.

  “Roz!” thought Sil.

  She was cowering in the nest with huge, frightened eyes.

  “You’ll have to follow me!” yelled Sil over the din.

  She clambered out and launched herself into the air. Sil felt despair at the sight of her small, fragile wings. She couldn’t fly far. They would have to find somewhere to hide. Desperate thoughts darted around his head as he flew beside her, following the other birds. Alone, he would have flown upwards but Roz would never manage that. If they kept on this way, he knew they would never outfly the magpies. Roz was too slow. He wheeled away to the right and she followed him. By gliding part of the way, they might reach their kowhai tree further down the valley. But that would mean leaving the bush. They would be seen at once and picked off.

  Sil couldn’t think of a better plan. Roz was gasping behind him.

  “Glide!” he shouted. “We’ll head for the kowhai!”

  The sounds of terror and pursuit faded a little as they glided away down the valley. Sil saw the roof of the brown house in the distance. Nobody seemed to be following them.

  “We’re getting closer,” he called to Roz. “One more burst and we’ll be there!”

  He scanned the sky again but could see no magpies.

  “Right,” he called, “away we go,” and he started to beat his wings slowly. Roz fluttered her small wings and he wondered if she’d make it, but they got as far as the road and started to glide down over the house, towards the kowhai.

  The magpie came out of nowhere. He went straight for Sil. Sil swerved and the magpie looped up and came back, his claws spread in front of him. Sil dived and came up behind him before the magpie could turn. He flew straight at the magpie and bumped him hard with very little effect on the big, tough bird. Where was Roz? Sil wondered, but he had no time to look. The magpie came at him again, this time more deliberately. I can’t let him beat me, thought Sil. Once he’s finished with me, he’ll go for Roz.

  Deafening barking suddenly broke out and Tom dashed around the corner of the house. The magpie faltered and swept up past Sil into the cherry tree. Sil looked around frantically for Roz. She was on the lawn near Tom’s kennel. Sil went cold. She was in terrible danger. If the magpie didn’t seize her, Tom might.

  The magpie swooped on Roz. Sil dived but Tom was faster. He dashed at the magpie, snarling deep in his throat. The magpie flew up and readied for another dive.

  “Into my house, quick!” shouted Tom. “Take the fledgling!”

  This was no time for the dread that filled Sil at the thought of going in there. He landed by Roz and urged her to the kennel. But the circling magpie was not to be so easily cheated. He dived again, just as they reached the doorway, and snatched Roz up in his claws. Tom snarled again and leapt at the magpie which dropped Roz and rose up, screeching. Sil pushed Roz through the doorway and followed her.

  The smell took him back instantly to the dog attack. He was overcome by giddiness and a roaring in his head, and he fell back against something soft.

  “Sil, Sil,” whimpered a frightened voice. “Please wake up.”

  He opened his eyes to see Roz. He pushed himself to sitting, fighting for air in the dim, close space.

  “I’m okay now.” He moved close to Roz. “Where’s the dog?”

  “I’m outside,” came Tom’s voice. “There’s no room for all of us in there.”

  “Where’s the magpie
?” asked Sil.

  Tom looked in at them. “He’s flown off. He left some feathers behind, though. Big bully — he learnt a sharp lesson.”

  “Worse than bullies,” said Sil, “they’re murderers. We’ve escaped from a massacre.” He shuddered. “I have to go back,” he said urgently. “They’ll think Roz has been taken.”

  He turned to her. “I’m going to find a spot in this garden where you can hide till I get back. You can’t go home till I make sure it’s safe.”

  “Why can’t I stay here?” Her voice was small and scared.

  Sil could scarcely hide his horror at the thought of leaving Roz in here. “Because birds hide in trees not in kennels.”

  “But we didn’t,” said Roz.

  “Don’t argue!” snapped Sil. “Just follow me.”

  He and Roz hopped out into the open. Tom stood wagging his tail.

  Sil fought down his panic at being so close to a dog. “Tom, you saved our lives today. You were a true friend. I’m sorry I have so much trouble trusting you.”

  “I could see it was hard for you to hide in my house,” replied Tom, “but the only bird I’d ever hurt is a magpie.”

  Sil took Roz up to the edge of the roof by the karaka tree. They sat there until he was sure they weren’t being watched, then hopped deep into the tree. There Sil found the blackbird’s empty nest. He felt a pang of sadness for his friend. There would be lots more empty nests around home, he thought grimly.

  “Stay in the nest and don’t make a sound,” Sil told Roz. “I’ll get us some karaka berries before I leave. If the blackbird comes back, tell him you’re my sister. I’ll come back when it’s safe for you to move.” He hopped around, knocking karaka berries into the nest, and they ate their fill. There were several left for later.

  Filled with dread at what he was likely to see, Sil took off for home.

  He smelt the blood before he saw it. It was smeared on branches and in sticky spots on the ground. He landed on the edge of the bush, concealing himself in leaves. The stillness and silence were so complete he could hear himself breathing. Peering into the dimness he began to see what had happened. A nest was torn apart and hanging from a branch. The ground was littered with feathers. Leaves hung in tatters where desperate birds had torn through them.