Yesterday the birds made their way down to the Botanic Gardens and met with a raven named, Yul. In part two they head further south and make more friends. Ed
Yul led the birds a short distance away, and there, locked behind a large wire panel, was a colourful macaw. The blue-chested bird squatted in the far corner of the cage, his head bowed, with his eyes shut, pretending to snore.
“Hey Bluey,” shouted Yul. “Wake up, we’ve got a job to do.” Bluey didn’t move a feather.
“These guys need help to take on a gang of men with guns down south. Are you interested Bluey?”
Bluey opened his left eye, and said in broken English that most humans could have understood, “I’ve got nothing better to do. Count me in.”
Yul quickly picked the lock of the cage with a small rusty nail he found on the floor. The increasing flock of birds quickly took to the air and began to cross the English Channel to France.
The flight across the 45 miles of sea took the birds nearly two hours. Swallows, seagulls, ravens and macaws normally fly at different speeds, but these stayed together – within talking distance. Dickie and Mucky told Jack, Yul and Bluey everything they knew about the men with guns. What beach they used, what time of day they crossed the sea, how many birds crossed – and how many fell to the guns. By the time they crossed the coast of France at Cherbourg, they all had a very clear idea of what lay ahead.
“I once saw some pictures of men attacking a big white building in London,” announced Yul. “I saw them on a television set in a man’s conservatory while I was perched on the glass roof. It showed how just a small handful of men – all dressed in black, with masks on – had attacked a building that was full of hostages. The voice coming from the television set called them S.A.S. I think we will need to fight like the S.A.S if we are to beat these men with rifles.”
* * *
The birds flew inland a few miles, across a quilt of small flat fields – each surrounded with its own protective hedgerow. They eventually landed on top of an old castle and stopped to survey the scene in the town that surrounded them. It was now late afternoon, and they hadn’t eaten since leaving the Botanical Gardens. They were extremely hungry and thirsty.
“Look!” cried Mucky. “Over there. A market. There’s sure to be some food and drink for us there.”
Yul flew into Falaise market first to make sure it was relatively safe. Once given the all clear, the others joined him. They found scraps of bread and cheese, some water in a dog’s bowl, and some Calvados cider in a glass. Their bellies were soon full, and they flew back to the top of William the Conqueror’s Castle to decide where to head for next. Sitting there, preening their feathers, Yul suddenly noticed a rook attacking a young female wren. The others noticed too.
“Hang on here a minute, I’m going to investigate,” said Yul.
The black raven flew down to the outskirts of a small park, and quickly chased away the smaller rook. “What’s up?” he called out to the wren.
“Teet-teet-teet – My name is Meme, and I’m trying to get a drink from that small fish pond over there, but a gang of rooks won’t let me into the park.”
“Oh won’t they,” said Yul. “You just fly up with me to the top of that castle for a second, and we’ll soon sort something out.”
Up on the battlements, Meme explained to the other birds how the rooks would not let her near the fish pond because they felt the young wren was far too small to drink from a fish pond with the larger birds.
“Tee-tee-teech – I didn’t know it was reserved for rooks,” said Meme. “They are all big bullies.”
Meme started to cry, as she went on to tell them about the number of times she’d been attacked by the rooks, who never let her anywhere near the fish pond.
“Okay,” said Yul. “Enough. Bluey and I shall escort you. Just give us a few minutes to visit that hawthorn bush over there.”
Attracted by the arrival of the strange birds at the park, a flock of about twenty starlings settled in a weeping willow tree to get a view of the proceedings. Yul and Bluey flew off, leaving the wren under the protection of the swallows. Soon they returned though, with an array of thorns tucked into their wing feathers.
“Okay,” said Yul. “Let’s go Meme. You hop slowly from bush to bush, and Bluey and I will fly just behind you.”
The swallows looked on as the tiny wren led the way down to the park and on to the first bush. A rook flew down to block her way. Yul flicked a thorn from the tip of his wing, clipping the rook on its beak and it flew away squawking. Another rook approached. Bluey got rid of took this one with one of his own thorns.
“Two gone. How many more?” whispered Bluey.
“Up there to your left,” replied Yul. “Another rook in that oak tree.”
Bluey spun round and dispatched the third rook with another thorn flicked from the tip of his right wing.
“Watch out,” cried Yul. “Two straight ahead and one either side.” Thorns flew in all directions and all hit their targets in lightning succession. The rooks flew away, cursing loudly, “Caaah-caaah-caaah.” They would never challenge the wren again.
Find out what happens next by tuning in again next weekend for Chapter Four.
Image: Manjith Kainickara
