David Yates’ serialisation of The Last Bullfighter continues this weekend with chapter seven. Ed
In the Atlas Mountains, with six days left to go, great things were starting to take place. Bluey, Eric and the swallows had spent two days scanning an enormous area south of Tangiers, looking out for any bird who could help in the forthcoming attack.
There were flocks of swallows and starlings, masses of ducks and geese, hundreds of pigeons, sparrows, thrushes and blackbirds. There were even smaller flocks of jays, bee-eaters, kingfishers and owls. When they heard Dickie and Mucky’s story of the bullfight, and the plan to seek revenge, they came from far and wide.
Food for such a large gathering of birds might have been a major problem, as they knew the scant resources already in the mountains wouldn’t last long under the pressure of numbers. However, what seemed like an insurmountable hurdle at first, was quickly solved when Baz and Gaz ‘acquired’ a couple of mobile phones.
Bluey rang Rory. Rory spoke to Margarita, and Margarita rang some friends of hers in Tangiers. Baz and Gaz ‘acquired’ the keys to some lorries of grain, and Margarita’s friends accidentally on purpose crashed the lorries when driving down a steep mountain road. The grain was scattered for nearly two hundred yards, and created the biggest bird table the world’s ever seen. Baz and Gaz still couldn’t get rid of any talking watches though!
As the food arrived, so did more birds. An enormous party arrived from South Africa – under the leadership of a great cormorant called Nelson. Flocks came from their fishing grounds in the Atlantic, and others even travelled from India as the news spread. As they heard the bugle calling them to arms, birds came from everywhere, and as the birds started to arrive, so the training started in earnest. Eric and the swallows concentrated on coordinating the different flocks so that they could fly in formation, and improve a bird’s greatest offensive asset in the air – its bombing power.
Most trainees learnt quickly, but others were much slower – or even impossible. Eric encountered one really bad case when teaching the young thrushes to flick thorns.
“Don’t flick the thorn like that. Flick it like this.” The thrush tried again – and still messed it up. “On second thoughts,” said Eric, shaking his head, “You can stay at the back of the flock and use the thorn to clean your beak.”
As news of the impending attack spread around the world, the birds already in the mountains were joined by several foreign legions from overseas. Amongst them were 622 Squadron of the Royal Flying Rats – a large flock of pigeons banished from Trafalgar Square by the London Mayor, Ken Livingstone. Their leader, Roger, had no time for Mr Livingstone.
“Damn scoundrel,” he pronounced. “What right has he got to kick us out of the square? We’ve been there since Nelson’s column was put up. Damn cheeky upstart. We’ll teach him to call us flying rats. We’ll poop all over him when we get back!”
The training camp was also graced by the late arrival of a flock of Japanese ring-necked ducks, calling themselves the Rising Sun Squadron. Their leader was ‘Emperor Kurosawa’, or just Akira to his friends. He said he’d had a dream many years ago, when he was a bright yellow duckling, that one day all the birds in the world would rise up together and stop men shooting them with guns.
“This,” he announced on his arrival in the mountains with his squadron of ducks, “Is my chance to see that dream come true.”
Preparations were going well on the southern side of the Mediterranean, and on the northern coast they were going equally well. Yul’s birds spent the days exercising the bulls and practicing their close-order drills – though exactly what for, the bulls weren’t quite certain. Randy, Tommy, Dud the Stud and Interesting Bob joined twenty-six other selected bulls to practice a special battle drill out of earshot in the far corner of the field. All were sworn to secrecy, of course.
The more the bulls exercised, the more food they required, and that presented a problem. Maria flew to see Rory back at the rancho when the shortage started becoming acute. Margarita was at work and they needed to act fast. Maria had an idea, Rory thought it would work, so they set off to put it in motion. The birds had all agreed not to go anywhere near Valera on the days leading up to the battle in case he got suspicious. But this was an exceptional case. Rory needed to memorize Valera’s voice.
A team of sparrows acting as stooges directed them to Valera’s office in the bullring. The birds sat outside on a window ledge – where they couldn’t be seen – but from where they could hear what he was saying.
“Yeah, that’s right my friend. You come down to the beach on Saturday morning. I’ll be mixing with the best people in Spain. I’ll be on national TV. Everyone will be there. Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay for everything.”
Once Rory had heard enough, they took off to use Margarita’s phone at the rancho. Maria looked up the biggest cattle-feed centre in the phonebook, and Rory did the talking, using Valera’s voice.
“Hello sweetheart,” he began, in his best Valera-is-putting-on-the-charm-voice, how are you doing today? Is that right? Never! You don’t say! Anyway, I’d like to increase the food orders for my six farms around the town. Double it. No. Triple it, will you? Yes, I know that’s a lot of food. Yes, yes. Let the farmers have whatever they want for the next four days. Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for everything.”
Find out what happens next tomorrow in Part Two.
