Chapter 16
Biltong and smoked salmon
Ed came round to a barrage of noises that covered the complete spectrum, from Tarzan’s monkey to an aviary of birds chirping in eighth notes. He felt restrained and struggled to move his arms or legs. Underneath and all around he could feel feathered, fidgety warmth that panicked and squirmed with desperation. He tried to turn over to get a better view but remained completely constrained. As he came round more, he could see a muted light leaking through beige material that completely surrounded them.
Then in a flash the material above opened, letting in floods of light that momentarily dazzled and blinded him. Instinctually he turned his head away, offended by its perverse intensity. Then he saw an overpoweringly large hand reaching through the hole and down over his whole body. Without thinking, he nipped at the invader, forcing it to retreat slightly before reaching down again, this time with more confidence and authority. All around the fervent impassioned noises rang out in a chorus of panic. He felt four massive fingers wrap around and underneath his body whilst a fat thumb completed the lock on top. He was then raised up gently out through the opening. As he fought and squirmed he began to realise he was being removed from a sort of cloth bag filled with other animals. From the noises, he assumed these were some sort of flying creatures, feathered animals, fowl or game.
Hopefully not a sparrow
, he thought as he was pulled from the bag into an all-consuming bath of vivid light.
As his body span with the movement of the hand, he found it hard to focus on his surroundings until he finally came to rest facing a middle aged and plump man full in the face.
“Don’t worry, little fella,” said the man, as he moved him down from in front of his face onto his knee, “we’re not going to hurt you; you’ll soon be back in your nest,” he said, as he turned him up, facing towards the top of the trees, bringing a second man into view. He was slightly younger, but wore a ridiculous red bobble hat which fought hard to restrain a full head of blond hair flowing out in every direction. The wind tossed it this way and that, as Ed started to feel the chill of the breeze.
“With this, we can have a good record of where they live and breed over their lifetime. With a rare bird like this it is really important. They’re just starting to reach sustainable numbers after so many were wiped out with pesticides,” proclaimed the man to his companion as he withdrew a medium pair of pliers with bright red handles from a small bag.
“Really? That’s great news. What do you know about this family?” replied the first man.
“Well this one’s quite old now, forty or fifty days or more I think. The mother was tagged living in
Chichester
cathedral a few years back.”
“Really, that far away.”
Ed listened intently, reassured by the fact that they were only tagging him and not ripping off his limbs with the pliers. It was still a mystery what bird he was exactly, but it was useful to know he was rare.
“Yes, not surprising though,” replied the man in the red hat as he took Ed’s right leg and held it still in front of him before adding,
“They are fast little mothers. Highest recorded speed of these is over two hundred miles an hour.”
“You have got to be kidding,” responded the man, as Ed mused at the possibilities.
Wow, I can fly at two hundred miles an hour. That’s bananas. How brilliant.
This is going to be something else
, he reflected as the man took out a piece of flexible bendy metal and forced it around his leg with the pliers, forming a loose and lightweight engraved anklet.
“These can’t be too heavy or else they can confuse the bird in flight. It weighs practically nothing,” declared the man as he let go of the bird’s leg. Ed looked down and saw a fearsome looking bird foot, long yellow fingers with sharp and offensive black claws, almost as long as the fingers. It looked to him like he had the equivalent to a thumb and three of these fingers but before he could properly inspect them, he was hurled into another bag which was immediately tied.
From inside Ed could hear the muffled tones of the two gents discussing what needed to be done next.
“Now we just have to weigh him and measure him and we can pop him back where he came from. We can weigh this one in the bag.”
“Great, then we can go to the pub. This is the last one isn’t it?”
“Yep, then we are free like the birds, although I don’t think we’ll see them in a pub. Imagine a peregrine falcon turning up at the bar.”
“Yeah, can I see your ID, sir, please?”
With this, the two men went about weighing Ed. A mysterious journey followed, bumping, tossing and turning as they made their way to wherever they were going to set him free.
“I bet I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since the last time I was weighed,” joked Ed to himself as they came to a halt and he felt the bag land gently on the floor. With all the kicking and jostling he could feel around him, he realised he’d been dumped on top of the other bag of birds.
“Right then, let’s get the rope and everything ready. We’ll be down this cliff in no time at all and get them all back in the nest.”
At least I’m in my own bag, not with the others
, reflected Ed before considering what life would be like as a peregrine falcon. He had seen a few documentaries on TV but hadn’t really taken it in.
If I had known I’d become one, then I’d most certainly have taken more
notice
, he thought ironically.
At this moment, he felt the bag being swooped up, and from the speedy movement, imagined they were abseiling down a rock face. Soon they came to an abrupt halt and the bag was opened as they swayed from side to side in the wind.
“This one won’t be in the nest for much longer by the looks of it, John. He’s much bigger than the others,” shouted the man to his companion on the top of the cliff. He reached into the bag, grabbed Ed and plonked him out on a cliff edge barely as wide as his body. An uncomfortable, twiggy mattress was all that kept his bum from the white chalky surface as the wind battered him from every side. Instinctually he turned away from the gusts to protect himself, not particularly bothered to miss the cliff top sea view.
One by one he heard the other birds placed back on the cliff before the man abseiled back up to the top.
“Are any of you Transients? Are any of you Transients?” he shouted at the top of his voice amidst the deafening noise of the wind and the endless penetrating bleats coming from the other birds.
“Fuck it, this is not going to be much fun,” he reflected as he tried to protect himself from the elements. Just at this moment, a larger bird arrived and perched itself next to him. It was stunningly exquisite, a beautiful, light brown front with tiny black spots and grey back. The feathers fluffed up slightly as the frightening looking yellow and black claws clung on to the side of the tiny rock ledge, steadfast in the gale force conditions. The bird’s head was a dramatic grey with light brown under the beak and tasteful yellow trim around the eyes and face. The piercing shiny black eyes peered out at Ed as it moved closer with some sort of edible treat hanging from its mouth. Instinctually he found himself opening his mouth as wide as he could as the big bird stuffed the food into him.
Great! A bite to eat, and then I’ll fly inland and get away from this abusive
wind
, thought the bird, as he consumed the offering and watched his new friend fly down from the rock and out to sea.
Oh my god, it tastes like biltong crossed with smoked salmon. I’ve no idea
what I’ve just eaten but it was certainly tasty
, thought Ed, turning back away from the brutal wind, wondering how difficult it would be to fly.
Mmmm, that’s a point. I’ve never flown before. That will be a real test of
nerve. I guess I just fall off and see what happens
. Ed settled down into a ball, curled up his body and tried to protect himself from the elements as best he could.
I’ll try and sleep here for now, build up my energy and maybe there’ll be less wind when I wake up. I have a few days after all – unless I end up killing myself immediately cos it turns out I can’t fly – that would be really stupid.
Anyway, if I can sleep
here then I can sleep anywhere
. With this, Ed resigned from the day and settled for a symphony of wind to send him to sleep.
***
When the morning came, it was indeed less windy. He turned around away from the cliff to assess the situation. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sun had just meandered into the sky. The temperature was cold but his feathers seemed to divert the worst of it around him. He stretched out his wings for the very first time and shook his body with a stretching yawn. They were massive and felt like they stretched the whole width of the white chalky cliffs. He flexed and flapped them gently and felt their power ripple through his whole being. He looked down at the hundred or so feet drop to the rocky shore below. He might well have become a bird but his human consciousness had retained its fear of heights. He thought back on the terrifying rope ladder climb with Yedida just a day or so earlier. How useful the wings would have been then.
I just have to jump off and trust in nature. I’ve got wings like a 747. What could possibly go wrong? Even if I did die, I’d just come around again anyway.
With this reassuring thought, Ed moved a little closer to the edge of the tiny ledge, looking down at the terrifying sheer drop.
Well here goes, bungee without the cord. Arrrrggghhhhhhhhh.
Off he went, plummeting straight down towards the rocks, coming dangerously close to crashing back into the cliff face. He flapped his wings frantically, but nothing.
Oh my god, this is crazy. Get hold of yourself. You must be doing something wrong.
Ed stopped flapping and decided to glide, wings stiff and erect like a small aircraft. In no time he was in the flow and becoming one with the air. It was like diving into a swimming pool without the resistance of water. He glided freely, swooping down to the left and speeding just a few feet over the tide drenched rocks before soaring to a dizzying height, looking down on the cliffs like it was toy town. Instinct guided him to glide on the various air currents, using virtually no energy whatsoever but travelling at a phenomenally blinding speed.
Up and down he went, descending, plummeting and falling before climbing and surfacing back into the heights, only to once more repeat the process.
I could live with this. This is brilliant. It makes my tortoise incarnation feel even more miserable. Weeyyheeyyyy
, he thought, as he cut into and out of the wind streams like a fighter jet.
“I’m the racing car of the sky, the bullet train of the clouds, here we go again,” he gasped as he swooped down low over the top of the breaking waves before reaching back up to the top of the cliff and coming to rest on a protuberant, grass-topped, chalky rock.
I guess I must be somewhere on the south coast, probably
Eastbourne
or
Dover
. That’s some way from where I died. I should pay a visit to the area though, just like Jahani suggested. This is the ideal opportunity to get an overview of the whole scene, for better or for worse.
Ed considered his options and decided to fly inland, get his bearings and try to gather some more information on the circumstances surrounding his death.
Two hundred miles an hour, that would take me a very short time to get to the M3. I would just need to follow the A27 towards
Portsmouth
and then pick up the M27 and then on to where it meets with the M3. It won’t take long at all.
The falcon swooped down off the cliff before ascending high into the sky and heading inland. It was a bright autumnal day. The trees had half shed their browning, crumpled leaves, and the colours of autumn adorned the landscape below. Ed surveyed the splendid palette, reds, browns, yellows and greens randomly arranged as if targeted by a wacky paintball gang. He wove into and out of breezes and winds, left and right, up and down. In no time he had picked up what he assumed was the A27 and followed its path along the coast towards
Portsmouth
.