Tales from the wild: An Eagle's Worst Fear

For a long time now, I have wanted to write stories for young children, pre-teens and teens that will introduce them to and engage their interest in nature and wildlife. This is my first attempt at it. I must gratefully note that many friends have been extremely encouraging, already urging me to publish my writing. I am not sure how well the writing itself will be received. So I am putting this story up on my blog, asking for feedback. Please let me know what you think about this. Pick out flaws, point out errors (even if it is a spelling error), pat me on the back or tell me this is no good.

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Sharp-y was having an awful day. He hadn’t found anything to eat in the morning and he had come flying all the way to his home tree to see if his luck would change. It had been a while since he had been to the home tree. He settled down on his favourite branch which spread out strong and wide out into a golden meadow. This was a good watch-post and he liked the view he got from there. But something wasn’t right here either. There was too much noise today – a long-drawn squawking and screeching blared out from one of the top branches. “Mynas? Parakeets? These noisy birds are bickering all the time.”, Sharp-y thought, a little annoyed at not having the peace that he had come to expect in his home ground. He tried to concentrate on the meadow but his gaze couldn’t stay on for two seconds; the noise was too overpowering. He looked up.

“Hello, you birds! Could you choose a different battleground to flex your warring skills, because your vocals aren’t helping me find food and I am hungry!”

All went quiet. Having vented out his frustration, Sharp-y too felt calmer inside. An instant later something green dropped down to the branch from the branch above, right next to him. He didn’t pay attention, thinking it was a leaf falling. But the ‘leaf’ uttered an alarmed ‘kwok’ when it realised who Sharp-y was, nevertheless bravely proceeded -

“I am sorry. But I am in terrible pain. I was hoping my family would come back and help me. Hence the noisy calls.”

Startled, Sharp-y turned around. “You’re a Parakeet!”

“Rose-ringed”, the bird said craning its neck to show the pink-ring that offered a testimonial to its words, as though this would somehow save him from being swatted by the great aquiline talon. Normally, the Parakeet wouldn’t have had anything to fear from this large bird, but with a broken wing he had reasons to be worried.

But the Eagle seemed in no mood to inflict any violence on his companion. He quietly stared at the Parakeet for a second.

“You mean, you were the only one crying out all this time? I thought there was an army of you up there.”

“No, only me. My folks were here too, but they left after they were done foraging around here. I couldn’t fly so I was left behind. I have been calling for help since.”

“What happened?”

“Well, my step-brothers were bullying me and kept pecking at me; my wing got hurt. I lied down in a sort of a wedge and dozed off. I woke up and saw that it still hurts when I try to fly.”

“I am sorry. It’s a little lonely on this side of the forest. I am not sure if you are going to find help soon. What will you do?”

“Call out to the skies like I was doing. Folks of my tribe keep flying overhead. Someone will hear me.”

Sharp-y shuddered at the thought of more deafening screeches.

“Er...let me see if I could so something. What do you need to heal your wing?”

“Well not much. I am sure it will be alright in a couple of days. I need to give it some rest. But I am afraid of starving these two days and then finding myself too weak to fly when my wing mends.”

“Hmm. Well, I could ask a friend of mine to get you something to eat I suppose. He will be here soon. The sun will be right over our heads anytime now.”

“Err...thanks a lot. You know, you are very uncharacteristically kind, but I am afraid any friend of yours may not be able to help. You see, I don’t eat meat.”

“I know that. My friend is a Squirrel. He eats the same kind of food as you...I think. At least, he too doesn’t eat meat. You can speak to him and figure out your nutritional differences.”

“Squirrel! Sacred Tree of Figs! You are friendly with a Squirrel?! You are the weirdest Eagle I have come across!”

Sharp-y was annoyed.

“And you are friendly with a lot of Eagles, are you?”

“Er, no. I must admit you are the first one I have got this close to. Not very social folks, you Eagles. But I always heard Squirrels and the like ended up in your breakfast menu. Did I hear wrong?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t known many Eagles either. Except my mum and my brother. And we have always been partial to snakes and toads. Toads, myself.”

“Ow! Ow Ow Ow!”

Sharp-y was alarmed at this fresh outburst of squawking. But this time, the Parakeet looked more excited than pained.

“ I get it. A Snake-Catcher, aren’t you? Fruity-fruits! I had never seen one sitting. But I guess I would have known if I had seen you flying!”

Sharp-y, despite his grumpy mood, was amused.

“It’s no wonder you didn’t eat me!”, continued the Parakeet, relieved at having finally solved the puzzle.

“I am not used to having feathers and fur as accompaniments for dinner. Messy eating, they must make.”

“Well, well, well...what a tale I am going to tell my folks back home. I met a Snake-Catcher who has a Squirrel for a friend!” He nodded his head disbelievingly, perhaps anticipating the reaction he would get from his tribe.

“You are still thinking of joining your folks after they injured you and abandoned you?” It was time for Sharp-y to be puzzled.

“What else would I do?”

“Safer to be by yourself, I’d think”

“Ow no no no! I couldn’t do that. I would go mad without folks of my kind around me. You aren’t suggesting that I live alone?”

“Isn’t it better than being beaten to incapacitation or death?”

“No. Yes. Well, I don’t know. Being alone is the same as being dead.”

“You are strange, you flock birds”. At that moment a discreet chirp somewhere down on the tree caught Sharp-y’s attention.

“Feather?”, he called out.

“Sharpy! You are home!”, squeaked a tiny rodent, who was gliding up the tree, his smooth back glistening in the sun, his plume-like tail twitching slightly.

“That’s a funny name – Sharpy.” the Parakeet butted in.

“It’s Sharp-y. Sharp Aye. Only Feather calls me Sharpy.” The Eagle’s irritation returned at the Parakeet’s intrusive chatter and he made up his mind that he wouldn’t let this audacious little bird call him Sharpy.

“Feather, here’s...er...sorry, what was your name?”

“Trippe.”

Sharp-y wasn’t sure it was a word. More like an inadvertent sound one lets slip through one’s mouth when bored. “Sorry?”

“Trippe. That’s my name.”

Feather wasn’t sure about helping a stranger, but he couldn’t refuse Sharp-y.

“I have a store filled with figs. Can you eat figs?”. The question seemed absurd to Trippe.

“Can I eat figs??? I can devour them! I haven’t seen a fig tree in three days and I was getting cranky.”

“Oh, alright then. I’ll get some.” Feather scuttled away quickly out of sight. He made sure he didn’t let the stranger see the direction he took, lest he give away the location of his store. He needn’t have worried. Trippe could only move by hopping and he had no hope of getting to the next tree until he could fly again. Feather’s larder was firmly hidden in a tree three big branches away in the direction of the Stream. Nobody could have seen the little hole in the tree that far away. Not even Sharp-y.

“Alright then, I’ll move along now. Haven’t eaten anything since last night, I’ll have to get a bite soon.” The Snake-Catcher took off with a swoosh into the sky, trying to think which watch post would be his best bet.

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A large Sal tree next to the Stream provided a cool shade and the calmness Sharp-y enjoyed. He had forgotten, momentarily, his unusual encounter with the Parakeet on the previous day. His stomach and heart filled, he thought why this tree couldn’t be his home tree. Why had mum chosen that other tree next to the meadow? Perhaps she liked the meadow. It was a good thing, though. He wouldn’t have met Feather – Feather! Trippe! Sharp-y suddenly remembered the previous day’s incidents. It had felt good to get away from the Parakeet’s chatter. Sharp-y himself had talked more in those few minutes with Trippe than he had done in months. It had tired him out. Worse, his hungry stomach had fueled his irritability. He was so glad when he finally got away. Now, rejuvenated by wholesome meals and a calm surrounding, he felt kinder towards the injured bird.

Trippe felt a pang of fear when he saw a pair of broad, dark wings speckled with white swoop over him, but was relieved to find it was his benefactor, returning to the branch he had left abruptly the previous day. Trippe had felt very lonely all evening and this morning. Feather had been generous in his supply of delicious comestibles, but he was too timid and shy to hold long conversations with. Moreover, Trippe got a feeling that Feather didn’t take too keen an interest in forming new friendships. He wondered what had prompted the little rodent to form this highly unlikely bond with a great raptor like Sharp-y. Oh what stories he could carry back to his flock, if only Sharp-y would share them with him! The tales would be the stuff of all gossip for a whole month, a whole year, perhaps. So, it was with great delight that he welcomed the Eagle on his return. The yellow eye of the huge bird scanned Trippe’s wing closely.

“Feeling better?” he enquired.

“Oh a lot better. Thanks. I can stretch the wing a little now without much pain. You and your friend have been so kind. All those nutritious figs have restored my energy. I really thought I would be dead when I found my flock had left. Who would have thought I would be rescued by an Eagle? That’s going to be the story of the decade.”

Sharp-y almost regretted having returned to this flood of chatter.

“A great friend, Feather, isn’t he?” continued Trippe, hoping to elicit a narrative about the origin of Sharp-y’s friendship with the Squirrel, from the Eagle himself, but none came forth.

“Yes”. Sharp-y had decided to be reticent today.

Twenty-four hours of loneliness had been too much strain on Trippe’s endurance, so he wan’t going to give up so easily. But even direct questions didn’t help him get the scoop he was hoping for.

“There’s nothing much to tell. We’ve just known each other for a long time.”

Trippe suspected that there was more to it than that, but gave up. He sensed that Sharp-y just didn’t want to tell him.

He decided to settle on a lighter subject. “So, did you get anything to eat? You said you hadn’t eaten all morning.”

“Yes, I found myself a good meal as soon as I left.”

“And a good meal to you is not a bunch of figs, I am sure.”, cackled Trippe, hoping Sharp-y would find it funny.

“Toads.”

Suddenly, Sharp-y felt terribly sorry for the poor Parakeet. He couldn’t understand or explain the little bird’s seemingly insatiable need to talk, but he felt a surge of sympathy for him. Sharp-y himself wasn’t wired to be talkative, he could go on for months without speaking to a soul, but this creature seemed to thrive on endless tittle-tattle. He also found a slight curiosity to understand how these flock birds managed to speak about everything they felt and thought. At a moment’s impulse, he decided to find out, by doing something he never imagined he would do. He opened up his little box of secrets.

“Toads. That’s what I eat almost all the time.” He knew the last remark would trigger a series of questions. He didn’t have to wait even for a second.

“Snakes?”

“No. I never eat snakes.” That rejoinder elicited a gasp from the injured bird.

“No snakes? Why not? Aren’t there any snakes in this part of the forest?”

“There are plenty. I just don’t catch them. They aren’t scared of me. Why do you think you didn’t see many nests around here. Or didn’t you notice?”

“I didn’t.” Trippe shook his head in befuddlement. “What is the problem? Are you not a Snake-Catcher? Are you some other bird that looks like a Snake-Catcher but isn’t? Or did something go wrong with your tummy one day? Some orange-spotted yellow snake didn’t agree with your stomach, so you stopped eating snakes altogether?”

This bird has some imagination, Sharp-y thought. Not only does he talk a lot, he thinks a lot too.

“No. I am afraid of snakes.”

That’s it. He had said it. Sharp-y never believed that he would disclose this secret to any living thing in his life. Even when he had tried to, he couldn’t. It demanded a lot of effort from him. But here he was, telling a chatterbox of a Parakeet, calmly that he had a phobia of food. Years of terrifying nightmares of snakes constricting the life out of him had culminated in one simple statement. Now that he had put his fear into words, it seemed as ridiculous as an elephant saying it lived in mortal fear of Bamboo.

The next instant, Sharp-y regretted having revealed too much. What was he thinking? It was a Banyan Tree of Blunder to talk about his secret to this stranger, who indulged in so much chatter. Now, the whole world would know about his phobia and he would be a laughing stock. Any interest Trippe had shown in his life was only because he wanted to gossip about it with his folks when he returned. They would all cackle with amusement at his pathetic fear. That’s all it was worth to them – a round of laughter. However, he realised that now that he had revealed the secret, he would have to go on and explain it. He couldn’t possibly allow the world to think he was a little sparrow-hearted bird hatched out of an Eagle’s egg by mistake.

“Seeds of poppy!” The red, rounded beak remained open forming a tiny hollow. “What could you be afraid of? What can snakes do to a big, powerful bird like you? They must shiver in their scales at the thought of you!”

“And I shudder at the thought of them.”

“You are weirder than I thought!” Trippe couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming.

“You are a grateful bunch of feathers, aren’t you?” Sharp-y was visibly annoyed at Trippe’s growing audacity.

“I am sorry. I really am. But I am just flabbergasted. How could this be?”

“Look, I am not insane. I have not imagined myself into this phobia. I am afraid of snakes because I know what they can do. Even to birds like me. I have seen it.”

For once, Trippe was quiet. He knew, this time, there was a story coming and he didn’t want to interrupt the flow. The Eagle may decide to not tell the story, if his mood changed.

“My brother got killed by a serpent.”

This was like a non-stop series of thunder and lightning. Just when you had recovered from a startling shock, here was another. Trippe still didn’t want to interrupt. The round beak remained open in anticipation.

“It is unusual for Eagles to have siblings, so my mother used to say. So she was very proud and happy that she had two eggs to boast of. When I emerged out of one, the other egg was still unhatched. It remained that way for more than a week and mother began to get worried. She asked Father if anything was wrong, but he didn’t know anybody who had had two eggs, so he couldn’t tell. My brother emerged out of his shell two weeks later and mum was the happiest bird I knew for a long time. I look back and see, it must have been tiring feeding two babies but she didn’t care. Slant-y, naturally, was smaller and slower than me. So I got to do a lot of things much before he did. I tried out my first toad diet days before him, I started flying much before him. One day, when mum was away and I was practising flying, Slant-y must have felt an urge to follow me and try flying himself. He had watched me fly for weeks now. He hopped out of the nest and he immediately fell past at least a dozen branches before he was on the ground. I was alarmed. I called out to mother frantically, Slant screeched his lungs out, but mother must have been far away. She didn’t hear us. But what was to come was even more shocking. There, hidden in the leaves, on the ground, something moved. I had failed to spot it, it was so still. Now, it moved with such speed and circled round Slant’s body. I had never seen a Python before. I was scared out of my wits.”

A faint gasp showed Sharp-y that Trippe was hooked on to his every word.

“The Python was huge, it was...”

“Spare me, I have seen a Python, don’t describe it.” Trippe was trembling.

“Well, that’s that. The Python strangled him and within seconds Slant-y was gone. Mother was distressed. Now that I could fly she took me far away from our nest and taught me hunting. And I left, after a few days.”

There was a long pause.

“So do I look like a fool, a coward now?”

There was a very long pause before Trippe spoke.

“ I am sorry about your brother, but I still think you shouldn’t be afraid of snakes.”

“And I think you shouldn’t think so much.” With these sharp words, the raptor spread out his wings and took off in the air.

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It was two whole days before Sharp-y returned to his home tree this time. So angry was he, at himself, for having allowed the Parakeet to take so much liberty as to give him advice, that he kept flying for hours and hours without settling down. It was nearly evening when he finally sat down on a crocodile bark tree. He had reached the Grey Mountain, from where he could see, at a distance, the Stream glistening in a thin streak amidst the dark foliage of trees like the silver line that adorns dark, wispy clouds. The mild, pleasant breeze of the meadows, here on the Grey Mountain turned into gusty winds. As the strong currents of the wind hit Sharp-y on his face, he felt his rage cooling down slowly. His worst fears had come true. Despite listening to the traumatic story that had given him the phobia, the Parakeet had thought he was being silly. He hadn’t expected anyone to understand, but he didn’t want advice either. He was terrified of being strangled and that was that. It wasn’t as though Sharp-y hadn’t tried to overcome his weakness. But the sight of a slithering scaly body sent shivers in his body. There was that incident when he forced himself to hunt down a rat snake. But it was no use. As he pounced on it, the snake had lashed out; its long whip-like body curled round the Eagle’s chest. This contact was enough to stop Sharp-y’s heart for a moment with paralytic fear. He dropped his quarry and flew off.

It wasn’t like his mother hadn’t tried to teach him to hunt snakes. She was adept at hunting down even a large, powerful serpent. She could swing it by its tail and play hoopla with it. But no amount of demonstrations of reptilian hoopla had helped Sharp-y. And here was this little frugivore telling him he had no business being scared.

It was quite unintentionally that he had returned to the home tree. He had simply wandered when his anger cooled down and returned to the meadow. The Parakeet must have left by now, the Eagle thought. He sat down on his usual perch and noticed the Parakeet was indeed gone. But he was wrong. Trippe floated down to the branch after a few minutes.

“Hello, Sharp-y. I thought you would never return. I am very very sorry. I must have sounded very judjmental. I am a Parakeet you know. I can’t help shooting my mouth off.”

“How’s your wing now?” Sharp-y was curt.

“It’s perfectly alright. I can fly now. I had gone foraging around in the morning.”

“I thought you would have left.”

“I intend to. But I didn’t want to leave before seeing you. You have been very kind and I have been very ungrateful.”

Sharp-y couldn’t remain stern any longer.

“It’s alright. I suppose it is difficult to understand. It must seem very strange to you.”

“No. I thought it was strange at first. I have had two days to think it over. And I don’t think it’s that strange at all. You were young and helpless and something happened to make you believe very strongly that you would remain forever weak and helpless. We believe in a lot of things long after they cease to exist.”

“Well, if a python tried to strangle me now, I would still be as helpless.”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t. A python can’t fly. Your brother couldn’t fly. Even back then, you weren’t as weak as he was.”

“That may be true. But I still can’t help being paralysed when I am near a snake.”

“Hmm. I can understand why that happens. You tell yourself so many times that you are inacapable of handling a snake, that when you really see one, you do become incapable. That’s what you believe. But in reality, you are a strong bird, a bird born to conquer snakes. So you can’t be all that weak.”

“You mean, just because I am born an Eagle, I can hunt snakes just like my mother?”

“Of course yes. Parakeets are born to talk. You can’t keep a Parakeet in a hole all his life and expect him to become quiet. He will talk to himself.”

A glint of amusement appeared on Sharp-y’s golden eye. The cheeky little bird could have thought of a better metaphor, Sharp-y knew. He felt grateful to Trippe for his attempt to lighten his mood.

“I think the trouble is that you are a lonesome bird.”, Trippe concluded with great confidence in his diagnosis.

“Aw now you are losing it. Don’t tell me I have caught some madness because of loneliness. Because all Eagles are solitary. We are not flock birds. I would go mad if I were to hear your chatter for the rest of my life.”

“I believe you.” Trippe didn’t mind the bluntness of the remark one bit. “What I am saying is that your problem could be cured if you were a flock bird. Since you are not, the fear has stayed on for so long.”

“And how would a flock of Eagles have helped me believe I can hunt a snake, Oh Wise One?”, said the raptor half-mockingly.

“Well, I have thought this over. We flock birds keep reminding each other of our strengths and failings almost every day. Oh Trippe, you found an orchard nearby? You are a good tracker. Oh, ask Trippe where we could find good water. He is great at tracking, you know. You hear from others what makes you a good Parakeet. But here you are, left to your own devices and all you have been telling yourself is what a lousy Snake-Catcher you are. Doesn’t help at all. So you will have to change that, you know. Tell yourself that you are born a Snake-Catcher. No python is going to change that. If you are not a Snake-Catcher, you would be dead. Like your brother.” As Sharp-y’s black crest on his head bristled with the surging anger, Trippe was quick to add, “You know, you are alive and you matter more now than your brother. I am sorry he had to die, but you survived because you were stronger and more capable. You will have to believe that.”

Sharp-y didn’t speak for a long time. When he did, it wasn’t what Trippe had expected him to say.

“You know, if being in a flock is such a great thing, why did you end up with a broken wing, left to die of hunger?” The tone which was more curious than angry, told Trippe that the question wasn’t a sarcastic one.

“Oh well, I admit it’s not a perfect life. But it’s easy for you to live alone. I am not born to lead a solitary life. I depend on my family in more ways than you can imagine.”

“But they are gone now.”

“Oh well, I can find them. It will take some days. But I will get back.”

Sharp-y was puzzled beyond words.

“Nothing in your list of rules says you have to live with the same folks, does it?”

“It’s not a rule, but that’s how it always is. I must find my folks. I will be comfortable with them. Some of them are nasty to me, I admit, but at least I know what to expect.”

“You know...you seem to think my friendship with Feather is as strange as a flying three-horned hare, but nobody told me that I couldn’t choose my own friends. Even if they weren’t of my own kind. Do they tell you at home not to mingle with other folks, folks who would treat you with respect and love?”

This time, Trippe couldn’t bring himself to speak for a very long time.

“You are a clever bird, Trippe. If you can track a rich orchard and sweet water, you can find good friends too. If you ever need to talk to a snake-catching friend though, you know my home tree. Now, it’s time to grab a meal...”

With these parting words, the raptor flapped his huge, dark wings in the air, launched himself into the cloudless sky, his piercing eye looking for a slithering body on the ground, his heart pounding the words, “I am strong and capable...”

On the other side of the Stream at dusk, there was much chatter in a flock of young Parakeets as they tried to extract all news and gossip from a new friend they had just met. He told them he knew of a mango orchard just round the bend of the Stream and he could guide them all to it. This news was greeted with more excited chatter. A dozen voices said in a chorus how glad they were to find a new member who was so wise and who knew the ways of the world...