“Eleanor, for the last time, stop asking if you can go out on Friday night. You are just banging your head against a brick wall. There is no way you can go to party” argues Mum.
“I hate you, I hate you. You are mean” yells Eleanor
Eleanor pivots on her red strappy sandals and storms out of the kitchen. She flings the door back onto its hinges and stomps up the wooden stairs. Even though she is only tiny, she sounds like Mali, the baby elephant. Up in her room she slumps into the uncomfy wooden chair. She thinks about putting her feet up on the table, but changes her mind. She tugs at the pink and yellow duvet and drags it onto the floor. She flings herself onto the bed and furiously punches the yellow daisy pillows. She can’t sit still. She flings open her window and yells at Judy, her dog. She slams the window shut, the glass shudders in the frame. She storms back to the uncomfy chair.
She puts her feet up on the table, surveys her red sandals and thinks of Mary and Jane going to the party. Mary’s Mum has bought her a new purple cotton shift and Jane looks simply wonderful in that white trouser suit.
“How can I go too?” she muses
“I must. I need to”
“I need to be cleverer than Mum”
Eleanor starts to think. Who can she collude with? Who will take her to the party? Mum and Dad will be out, the baby sitter will arrive at 5 pm.
“That’s it, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll get Joanne to take me. To baby sit me at the party. It’s only round the corner, we can walk”.
“Phew” and Eleanor relaxes. “It will be easy peasy”
Eleanor starts to read her favourite book “Gulliver’s travels”. Now she is curled up on that uncomfy wooden chair, but she doesn’t notice the pain.
Unconsciously, she starts to rub her forehead.
“ooh, that hurts, oh no, my headache has come back”.
Eleanor has been sick for 2 weeks. She’s been in bed for most of that time. The doctor said it was a type of flu. Of course that’s why Mum had said no to the party.
She can feel her face getting hot and sweaty, little tears run down her face and run into the corner of her mouth. They taste salty but comforting. She wipes her face with her sleeve and pushes her blond ratty pigtails back behind her ears. Her head is thumping now, just like a couple of drums beating time in her ears. She’s also feeling a bit sick.
“Oh, Mum” she mumbles.
As if by magic, the door opens softly and Mum’s lovely kind face peers around the edge.
“Darling, are you OK?”” she eyes up the room but doesn’t say a word.
“Mum, I don’t feel very well”
“Poor you. Let’s have a cuddle. You will soon be better. You’ll be able to go to the next party. Don’t worry”
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Going to the Wall (Eve)
(Write about the discovery that a 'brick wall' limitation is actually an illusion.)
As a teen-ager and well before he became a renowned swami, Yogananda was the equivalent of the 50 kg. weakling who gets sand kicked in his face while sunning at the beach. Of course there were not beaches per say in Yogananda’s native Bengal nor were there any gyms in the early part of the 20th century to build up one’s sadly flabby physique.
Besides Yogananda’s fitness regime was always going to be based on Indian tradition, more psychic than physical. Meditation and mentorship with a guru was the go.
Even as an adolescent, in the long sessions of his meditation practice, Yogananda learned to cultivate extraordinary powers of awareness. One day a vision beckoned to him; it was unmistakably his spiritual teacher. The young seeker donned his sandals and set off trudging the rocky hills, plains, and valleys of Uttar Pradesh, until one magnificent day at the end of a dry plateau, he discovered the teacher of his vision, Swami Sri Yukteswar Giri, living abstemiously in a thatched hut.
Swami Giri greeted his new pupil with a reverent Namaste and then, as Yogananda was later to describe: “We dissolved into a oneness of tranquility, words a barrier to what was for me a revolutionary new manner of dialogue – the Master communicating soundless content from his heart directly to mine.”
Thus commenced an intense year of mostly silent learning, Swami Giri mentally transmitting understanding to Yogananda. To borrow a modern notion, the process was rather like downloading the psyche of the guru into the acolyte.
Yogananda was a quick learner and with characteristic discipline practiced what are called in Sanskrit “siddhis”, mystical powers, like: clairvoyance, clairaudience, levitation, teleportation, and his personal favourite, psychometry, that is, being able to move matter just by the power of his mind.
Very nearly a year to the date, Swami Giri charged his young disciple with what would be his mission. He was to travel the world spreading his guru’s teachings on India's ancient practices and philosophy of yoga and its tradition of meditation.
By now, Yogananda was ready to take on the mantle of a great teacher himself. With his guru’s imprimatur and the powers now invested in him, Yogananda set off across the continents of Europe and North America.
New York of the 1920’s, as much as now, has the reputation for nurturing a kind of tough, cynical breed of people, not likely to be pushovers for someone selling spiritual ideals. This was the site for the beginning of Yoganada’s American tour.
As a guest speaker at the Congress of World Religious Leaders being held in the Hotel Lexington ballroom, Yogananda knew he had to stage an attention-grabber for these flinty New Yorkers.
Yogananda briefed the President of the conference who was about to introduce him, and then he left the room.
The President, at the end of his formal introduction, asked the delegates to stand, turn 180 degrees and face the wall at the back of the room. They did so slowly and reluctantly. In short order, smooth as a knife going through warm butter, Yoganada materialized in front of the delegation.
Stunned (one woman fainted), and completely silent, this group of religious seekers experienced the very cells in their brains being re-ordered to accommodate an event completely out of their ken.
Needless to say, Yogananda’s dazzling demonstration of the dissolution of matter guaranteed a felicitous welcome to New York City and entry into major city of the United States.
As a teen-ager and well before he became a renowned swami, Yogananda was the equivalent of the 50 kg. weakling who gets sand kicked in his face while sunning at the beach. Of course there were not beaches per say in Yogananda’s native Bengal nor were there any gyms in the early part of the 20th century to build up one’s sadly flabby physique.
Besides Yogananda’s fitness regime was always going to be based on Indian tradition, more psychic than physical. Meditation and mentorship with a guru was the go.
Even as an adolescent, in the long sessions of his meditation practice, Yogananda learned to cultivate extraordinary powers of awareness. One day a vision beckoned to him; it was unmistakably his spiritual teacher. The young seeker donned his sandals and set off trudging the rocky hills, plains, and valleys of Uttar Pradesh, until one magnificent day at the end of a dry plateau, he discovered the teacher of his vision, Swami Sri Yukteswar Giri, living abstemiously in a thatched hut.
Swami Giri greeted his new pupil with a reverent Namaste and then, as Yogananda was later to describe: “We dissolved into a oneness of tranquility, words a barrier to what was for me a revolutionary new manner of dialogue – the Master communicating soundless content from his heart directly to mine.”
Thus commenced an intense year of mostly silent learning, Swami Giri mentally transmitting understanding to Yogananda. To borrow a modern notion, the process was rather like downloading the psyche of the guru into the acolyte.
Yogananda was a quick learner and with characteristic discipline practiced what are called in Sanskrit “siddhis”, mystical powers, like: clairvoyance, clairaudience, levitation, teleportation, and his personal favourite, psychometry, that is, being able to move matter just by the power of his mind.
Very nearly a year to the date, Swami Giri charged his young disciple with what would be his mission. He was to travel the world spreading his guru’s teachings on India's ancient practices and philosophy of yoga and its tradition of meditation.
By now, Yogananda was ready to take on the mantle of a great teacher himself. With his guru’s imprimatur and the powers now invested in him, Yogananda set off across the continents of Europe and North America.
New York of the 1920’s, as much as now, has the reputation for nurturing a kind of tough, cynical breed of people, not likely to be pushovers for someone selling spiritual ideals. This was the site for the beginning of Yoganada’s American tour.
As a guest speaker at the Congress of World Religious Leaders being held in the Hotel Lexington ballroom, Yogananda knew he had to stage an attention-grabber for these flinty New Yorkers.
Yogananda briefed the President of the conference who was about to introduce him, and then he left the room.
The President, at the end of his formal introduction, asked the delegates to stand, turn 180 degrees and face the wall at the back of the room. They did so slowly and reluctantly. In short order, smooth as a knife going through warm butter, Yoganada materialized in front of the delegation.
Stunned (one woman fainted), and completely silent, this group of religious seekers experienced the very cells in their brains being re-ordered to accommodate an event completely out of their ken.
Needless to say, Yogananda’s dazzling demonstration of the dissolution of matter guaranteed a felicitous welcome to New York City and entry into major city of the United States.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Animal Instincts by Peta
It was early afternoon and I awoke refreshed but ravenous after a long nap. A soft mewing sound escaped as I yawned widely. Uncurling I stretched out, arching my back. As I performed the ritual downward echidna pose, my spines came to life, the protective arrows pointing in all directions. I stood unsteadily, shaking my bootie in an effort to inject some enthusiasm into my sleepy joints and limbs. The dusty film that had settled like a blanket clouded the air around me.
As I emerged from my shelter in the rocky crevice the bright afternoon sun seared into my small dark eyes. “Ouch” I muttered blinking back tears.
Below my kingdom lay before me. The only discernable movement was the bugs and butterflies littering the airspace. Spiderwebs crisscrossed from trunk to trunk creating lacey patterns on the dry earth as the sunlight streaked through the trees. The air was stiflingly humid.
It was hard adjusting to this solitary life. Not long ago as a puggle I was surrounded by the comfort of mummy’s love and guidance. I missed the warmth of her body cuddled up to me, her heart beating in time with mine. She fed me well, kept me warm and protected. But then the spines grew and everything changed. I was cast out on my own, alone and lonely.
My tummy rumbled loudly like the night skies. Hmm lunchtime. I hadn’t yet got the hang of this hunting thing but there was nothing like an appetite to focus my attention. I quickly found the tracks of other echidna to lead me to a fertile feeding ground. I ambled along, my barrel-like body rolling from side to side. With short stout limbs, mummy had always said we were made for comfort not speed. Then that funny sensation started again. My nose was vibrating and it felt really weird. Mum had explained “the electro-receptors in your snout will let you know a meal is nearby”.
Lunch, bring it on.
Saliva pooled in my mouth and my tummy gurgled. My long tongue filled my mouth uncomfortably. It seemed to swell on queue. I stuck it out and it flicked back and forth, limbering up for the task ahead. “Natural Instincts” mum had said.
I marched on now with more determination. The vibrating was really getting strong, it must be close. Then there it was. A large ochre mound rose up from the earth before me. Ha, soldier ants are on the menu today.
With my long beak, I burrowed into the anthill, using my legs to scratch and dig at the soil. The ants dispersed in all directions. Antfantrymen attacked me. I hated this part. They ran straight up my legs biting away. When would they learn not to bother? I flicked my tongue out, up and around sucking the insects into my mouth. It was full to overflowing. Ants popped as I crushed them between the horny plates on the roof of my mouth and tongue. Delicious!
As I emerged from my shelter in the rocky crevice the bright afternoon sun seared into my small dark eyes. “Ouch” I muttered blinking back tears.
Below my kingdom lay before me. The only discernable movement was the bugs and butterflies littering the airspace. Spiderwebs crisscrossed from trunk to trunk creating lacey patterns on the dry earth as the sunlight streaked through the trees. The air was stiflingly humid.
It was hard adjusting to this solitary life. Not long ago as a puggle I was surrounded by the comfort of mummy’s love and guidance. I missed the warmth of her body cuddled up to me, her heart beating in time with mine. She fed me well, kept me warm and protected. But then the spines grew and everything changed. I was cast out on my own, alone and lonely.
My tummy rumbled loudly like the night skies. Hmm lunchtime. I hadn’t yet got the hang of this hunting thing but there was nothing like an appetite to focus my attention. I quickly found the tracks of other echidna to lead me to a fertile feeding ground. I ambled along, my barrel-like body rolling from side to side. With short stout limbs, mummy had always said we were made for comfort not speed. Then that funny sensation started again. My nose was vibrating and it felt really weird. Mum had explained “the electro-receptors in your snout will let you know a meal is nearby”.
Lunch, bring it on.
Saliva pooled in my mouth and my tummy gurgled. My long tongue filled my mouth uncomfortably. It seemed to swell on queue. I stuck it out and it flicked back and forth, limbering up for the task ahead. “Natural Instincts” mum had said.
I marched on now with more determination. The vibrating was really getting strong, it must be close. Then there it was. A large ochre mound rose up from the earth before me. Ha, soldier ants are on the menu today.
With my long beak, I burrowed into the anthill, using my legs to scratch and dig at the soil. The ants dispersed in all directions. Antfantrymen attacked me. I hated this part. They ran straight up my legs biting away. When would they learn not to bother? I flicked my tongue out, up and around sucking the insects into my mouth. It was full to overflowing. Ants popped as I crushed them between the horny plates on the roof of my mouth and tongue. Delicious!
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
The Fox and the Rabbitt--Gordon
The Fox and the Rabbit
You are an animal (pick any animal) and you are stalking your prey - write a scene from the animal's perspective
Suddenly, I heard a squeal and woke with a start.
The day was brilliant sunshine and I had had a long sleep but there was a constant wariness and readiness that left me tired. I lay on the ground in the dappled sunlight hidden in a hollow in the shade of the covering scrub. It was the perfect den.
The rabbit ran and I chased. She ran slowly at first as though nothing had happened. Then with a spurt of speed turned sharply left. Then with a confusion of left turns and right turns, turned right. There was hesitancy and more confusion, with small leaps and then runs. I was close but it was hard to turn right or left. I could lengthen my stride and gallop but the turns were very difficult. The rabbit ran for a big log lying on the ground and rapidly squeezed through a hole underneath the log. I had no chance of going through. Quickly I bounded around the end of the log and a long way before me was the grey rabbit, running through the grass, down the hill. I stood and pondered another loss.
The peace and quiet of the den seemed far away and lost in the excitement of the chase I had forgotten my three pups also sleeping in the den.
From above I had a sense of something in the sky as a tiny shadow passed before me. I looked up and a large eagle was gliding across the patch of scrub covering the den. “My pups”, I thought and I looked back. The three small pups were playing outside the bush covering the den. The eagle landed on the thin branch on the large eucalypt overlooking the bush. The branch swayed with the weight of the eagle. He balanced on it and then looked straight at the three pups. I yelped with a bark and the pups stopped and searched with a startled look. I yelped again and they came running toward me across the paddock. I ran toward the three, now scampering across the grass and oblivious to the danger from above.
As I ran at full speed, the eagle swooped toward my smallest pup and missed. With his big wings he quickly soared into the air again and turned for another swoop. This time he held his claws downward and swooped again with a crunching stop on the small pup. I raced toward the eagle and with a mighty leap bit at his neck just as he started to flap to lift off from the ground. I held tight. The great wings flapped in panic and feathers started to fly around us. I still held on tight and flipped the eagle from one side to the other. Slowly, the flapping subsided and I began to relax my grip. My pup was free and the other pups scampered back to the den. The little pup seemed dazed but not harmed. This was a lesson never to be forgotten.
I dragged the eagle toward the den and ate. The pups joined in.
Gordon MacAulay
23 February 2010
You are an animal (pick any animal) and you are stalking your prey - write a scene from the animal's perspective
Suddenly, I heard a squeal and woke with a start.
The day was brilliant sunshine and I had had a long sleep but there was a constant wariness and readiness that left me tired. I lay on the ground in the dappled sunlight hidden in a hollow in the shade of the covering scrub. It was the perfect den.
The rabbit ran and I chased. She ran slowly at first as though nothing had happened. Then with a spurt of speed turned sharply left. Then with a confusion of left turns and right turns, turned right. There was hesitancy and more confusion, with small leaps and then runs. I was close but it was hard to turn right or left. I could lengthen my stride and gallop but the turns were very difficult. The rabbit ran for a big log lying on the ground and rapidly squeezed through a hole underneath the log. I had no chance of going through. Quickly I bounded around the end of the log and a long way before me was the grey rabbit, running through the grass, down the hill. I stood and pondered another loss.
The peace and quiet of the den seemed far away and lost in the excitement of the chase I had forgotten my three pups also sleeping in the den.
From above I had a sense of something in the sky as a tiny shadow passed before me. I looked up and a large eagle was gliding across the patch of scrub covering the den. “My pups”, I thought and I looked back. The three small pups were playing outside the bush covering the den. The eagle landed on the thin branch on the large eucalypt overlooking the bush. The branch swayed with the weight of the eagle. He balanced on it and then looked straight at the three pups. I yelped with a bark and the pups stopped and searched with a startled look. I yelped again and they came running toward me across the paddock. I ran toward the three, now scampering across the grass and oblivious to the danger from above.
As I ran at full speed, the eagle swooped toward my smallest pup and missed. With his big wings he quickly soared into the air again and turned for another swoop. This time he held his claws downward and swooped again with a crunching stop on the small pup. I raced toward the eagle and with a mighty leap bit at his neck just as he started to flap to lift off from the ground. I held tight. The great wings flapped in panic and feathers started to fly around us. I still held on tight and flipped the eagle from one side to the other. Slowly, the flapping subsided and I began to relax my grip. My pup was free and the other pups scampered back to the den. The little pup seemed dazed but not harmed. This was a lesson never to be forgotten.
I dragged the eagle toward the den and ate. The pups joined in.
Gordon MacAulay
23 February 2010
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Bird brain (by Heather)
You are an animal (pick any animal) and you are stalking your prey – write a scene from the animal's perspective.
I do not take my eye off the river below.
I feel the lift of an updraft. I ride it for a moment, never letting up my watchfulness. I see the shape I am looking for, but it is too deep below the surface of the water. It is Fish. I twist my wing to draw into a circle, all the while watching, watching. Fish comes a little closer to surface. I tighten circle, banking to increase my speed. I do not take my eye off him.
Fish dives deep into the water. Bugger. I pull out of circle, easing up my speed.
Rest time. I will sit on the pier for a few moments to catch some sun. I slow the beat of my wings, I drop my tail to brake. I glide to a smooth landing.
Cousin Gull flies in immediately. Bugger. He sits beside me, not too close. I stand on one foot and fluff. Cousin Gull steps slightly away.
I fluff more. Wind whips my down feathers. Feels cool! I preen, nibbling each feather shaft from base to tip. Wind blows a feather out of position. I tease it back into place.
I secretly eye Cousin Gull. He pretends to ignore me. I turn to stare at him, both eyes. He falls forward, then soars into the air. Good riddance.
Sun warming, wind cooling. All good.
But stomach rumbling. Not good. Go look for bugger Fish again.
I check feathers. Most are smooth; one needs fix. I nibble shaft, vanes, even barbs. Perfect now.
Good to go.
I squeeze feathers small, ready to fly. I lift into the air, make wings big, open slots, flap hard. I feel for currents. Sun high now so will be updrafts. I find a thermal that wants to whisk me up. So up I go, soaring high. Getting hard to breathe, but fun! I tilt a wing and find more lift. Many sparkles on water below. I glide, glide, glide.
Many things I can do! Choice!
Stomach rumbles again; yes, I remember mission. I cast an eye to the water below. Too high to see Fish.
I fall into fast dip. Wings stretch to widest. I pitch forward, find air resistance. Want to do loop! Take wingtip and tilt sharply, go fast into loop.
Oh, right; hungry. Look out, Fish.
I level out at just right height, stare into river below. Fish will come. Fish will come. Fish will come.
Fish! Fish slides through water, not thinking about sky above. I tilt into large circle, waiting for Fish to rise a little. Fish comes higher. I tighten the circle, watching always. I build speed. My circle gets smaller and smaller until I stop completely. I sit on the air, on the wind, on my yearning.
I know how Fish will swim. I twist my head down, flap strong one time, then drop like a lightning bolt. I crash through air, wind, sun. I film my eyes as I strike the water. One heartbeat into the water I have Fish! He is easy this time, I have him by his middle. I twist to return to the air. Fish wiggles, he wants back to water, but sorry, he is mine. Cousin Gull suddenly appears beside me, gliding and hoping I will make a mistake. Can you imagine? – he would rather mooch my Fish than find his own. He has no pride. A cousin with no pride is a danger.
I swing away, leaving a trail of scorn behind me. He does not care. I care. I fly to a post where only one can fit, and carefully raise my beak to the sun. Fish still wiggles but he drops down the gullet perfectly.
Stomach will soon be happy.
Now, where was I?
I do not take my eye off the river below.
I feel the lift of an updraft. I ride it for a moment, never letting up my watchfulness. I see the shape I am looking for, but it is too deep below the surface of the water. It is Fish. I twist my wing to draw into a circle, all the while watching, watching. Fish comes a little closer to surface. I tighten circle, banking to increase my speed. I do not take my eye off him.
Fish dives deep into the water. Bugger. I pull out of circle, easing up my speed.
Rest time. I will sit on the pier for a few moments to catch some sun. I slow the beat of my wings, I drop my tail to brake. I glide to a smooth landing.
Cousin Gull flies in immediately. Bugger. He sits beside me, not too close. I stand on one foot and fluff. Cousin Gull steps slightly away.
I fluff more. Wind whips my down feathers. Feels cool! I preen, nibbling each feather shaft from base to tip. Wind blows a feather out of position. I tease it back into place.
I secretly eye Cousin Gull. He pretends to ignore me. I turn to stare at him, both eyes. He falls forward, then soars into the air. Good riddance.
Sun warming, wind cooling. All good.
But stomach rumbling. Not good. Go look for bugger Fish again.
I check feathers. Most are smooth; one needs fix. I nibble shaft, vanes, even barbs. Perfect now.
Good to go.
I squeeze feathers small, ready to fly. I lift into the air, make wings big, open slots, flap hard. I feel for currents. Sun high now so will be updrafts. I find a thermal that wants to whisk me up. So up I go, soaring high. Getting hard to breathe, but fun! I tilt a wing and find more lift. Many sparkles on water below. I glide, glide, glide.
Many things I can do! Choice!
Stomach rumbles again; yes, I remember mission. I cast an eye to the water below. Too high to see Fish.
I fall into fast dip. Wings stretch to widest. I pitch forward, find air resistance. Want to do loop! Take wingtip and tilt sharply, go fast into loop.
Oh, right; hungry. Look out, Fish.
I level out at just right height, stare into river below. Fish will come. Fish will come. Fish will come.
Fish! Fish slides through water, not thinking about sky above. I tilt into large circle, waiting for Fish to rise a little. Fish comes higher. I tighten the circle, watching always. I build speed. My circle gets smaller and smaller until I stop completely. I sit on the air, on the wind, on my yearning.
I know how Fish will swim. I twist my head down, flap strong one time, then drop like a lightning bolt. I crash through air, wind, sun. I film my eyes as I strike the water. One heartbeat into the water I have Fish! He is easy this time, I have him by his middle. I twist to return to the air. Fish wiggles, he wants back to water, but sorry, he is mine. Cousin Gull suddenly appears beside me, gliding and hoping I will make a mistake. Can you imagine? – he would rather mooch my Fish than find his own. He has no pride. A cousin with no pride is a danger.
I swing away, leaving a trail of scorn behind me. He does not care. I care. I fly to a post where only one can fit, and carefully raise my beak to the sun. Fish still wiggles but he drops down the gullet perfectly.
Stomach will soon be happy.
Now, where was I?
Monologue to the Mosquito (Kerry)
You are an animal stalking your prey. Write about it from an animal’s perspective.
-Did you hear that? That tapping noise. It’s coming from outside. I’m not going out until it’s stopped. Could be a magpie. Probably won’t be a problem but it’s better to be cautious.
-Move over a bit, will you? You’re crowding me. I don’t usually share this space. Generally a loner, see. I suppose in the zoo you were used to mobs, crowded in together.
-No need to get grumpy. The rule is whoever gets here first gets best place. That’s me, OK. This cool spot under the leaves suits me. See how I’ve hollowed out a little hiding place. Now, unless you’ve got something useful to contribute, go back to sleep.
-You awake? I can’t sleep. I’m so hungry. It must nearly be dark surely. Seems to be cooling down. Since you’re the new boy, how about you poke your nose out the end there and see how the land lies.
-Anything around?
-I mean dangerous things, of course. Didn’t they teach you anything? Kookaburras, number one. There’s often a couple sitting in the branch up above us. Snakes, number two. Slippery customers, snakes. Never seen one myself but heard plenty of stories of lucky escapes. And humans, number three. They blunder around and are easy to spot. Noisy, no respect. I know you probably think humans are the ant’s pants but not out here, buddy. Got the idea? See anything like that?
-No? Well, let’s go. You follow me. If you haven’t done this by yourself before, just watch my signals.
-Ease yourself out gently. The edge of the log is a bit rough. Now follow the smell of water. Pick it up? That cool, reedy tang. It’s strongest over this way. We should be safe if we move quickly through the long grass. Speed in the air is the key. But stay low. Strong take-off but swift. Got the idea? And break the rhythm every so often. Stay down for a bit then a couple of quick ones.
-This is going to be a good night. Plenty of moisture in the air after that thunderstorm. Pretty violent, wasn’t it? Love ‘em myself. Washed you out of your enclosure, did it?
-Hold it!
-I saw a movement. Keep your head down. It’s a human, sitting on that rock. Very restless, keeps hitting himself. Thank God for the mosquitoes. OK, he’s had enough. He’s going away.
-Now, on this last section keep the pace slow. Here near the pond is where we’re most likely to encounter a problem. I just want to get in close. There are a few special places I have in mind where I can hide and knock off the mozzies as they come in.
-Freeze!
-That was close. I forgot to warn you about ducks. They’re vicious. And fast.
-Be on guard now. Wait for the mozzie to land then flick. Tongue out, tongue in. You’ve got to keep your eye on the target. Watch me.
-Oh, yes! Delicious.
-And again. Ah, bliss!
-Did you hear that? That tapping noise. It’s coming from outside. I’m not going out until it’s stopped. Could be a magpie. Probably won’t be a problem but it’s better to be cautious.
-Move over a bit, will you? You’re crowding me. I don’t usually share this space. Generally a loner, see. I suppose in the zoo you were used to mobs, crowded in together.
-No need to get grumpy. The rule is whoever gets here first gets best place. That’s me, OK. This cool spot under the leaves suits me. See how I’ve hollowed out a little hiding place. Now, unless you’ve got something useful to contribute, go back to sleep.
-You awake? I can’t sleep. I’m so hungry. It must nearly be dark surely. Seems to be cooling down. Since you’re the new boy, how about you poke your nose out the end there and see how the land lies.
-Anything around?
-I mean dangerous things, of course. Didn’t they teach you anything? Kookaburras, number one. There’s often a couple sitting in the branch up above us. Snakes, number two. Slippery customers, snakes. Never seen one myself but heard plenty of stories of lucky escapes. And humans, number three. They blunder around and are easy to spot. Noisy, no respect. I know you probably think humans are the ant’s pants but not out here, buddy. Got the idea? See anything like that?
-No? Well, let’s go. You follow me. If you haven’t done this by yourself before, just watch my signals.
-Ease yourself out gently. The edge of the log is a bit rough. Now follow the smell of water. Pick it up? That cool, reedy tang. It’s strongest over this way. We should be safe if we move quickly through the long grass. Speed in the air is the key. But stay low. Strong take-off but swift. Got the idea? And break the rhythm every so often. Stay down for a bit then a couple of quick ones.
-This is going to be a good night. Plenty of moisture in the air after that thunderstorm. Pretty violent, wasn’t it? Love ‘em myself. Washed you out of your enclosure, did it?
-Hold it!
-I saw a movement. Keep your head down. It’s a human, sitting on that rock. Very restless, keeps hitting himself. Thank God for the mosquitoes. OK, he’s had enough. He’s going away.
-Now, on this last section keep the pace slow. Here near the pond is where we’re most likely to encounter a problem. I just want to get in close. There are a few special places I have in mind where I can hide and knock off the mozzies as they come in.
-Freeze!
-That was close. I forgot to warn you about ducks. They’re vicious. And fast.
-Be on guard now. Wait for the mozzie to land then flick. Tongue out, tongue in. You’ve got to keep your eye on the target. Watch me.
-Oh, yes! Delicious.
-And again. Ah, bliss!
Friday, 19 February 2010
The Hunt - by Rick
Man it’s good to be stretching my wings again. The missus is watching the chicks today so I’m on chow roster.
Perfect day for hunting. The cloudless sky has let the sun heat the Earth and the thermals are out in force. I’m taking this one up another 500 meters and I’ll start my soaring there. I love hunting in the mid-morning. The shadows are near perfect and help pinpoint any motion way down at the bottom. Barely a breeze so it’ll be easy to hang in place as I scan back and forth. And the rodents are all hungry too, so they’ll get careless while they graze. Might even catch me a big jack rabbit if fortune favors me.
Man the lift today is fantastic. Hardly moved a muscle getting up here. This looks like a good place to soar from. I can see the rocks over towards the river where the rabbits hang out and the grasses below with the gopher colony. Good thing I saved all that energy. I’ll need at least 4 or 5 kills today to keep the family fed and the trip back to the nest is all uphill plus cargo.
Not a lot of motion yet. Just some grasses shifting in the breeze. Patience is my middle name. I can do this all day if I have to.
There! What’s that? Looks like a gopher. Yes! Now let’s watch what it does. Still too close to its hole for a sure kill. Gack! It’s gone back down. Next time little one.
Think I’ll move over a bit towards the rocks. Not much happening in the grasses. Maybe some bloody sparrow hawk has spooked them.
Something moving, something big. Just laying on that rock sunning itself. Bad move my friend, but don’t stop. I’ll drop a bit.
Marmot! This is better than rabbit. It’s almost too big for me. Just a bit lower…. NOW.
Lay my wings back and drop like a stone. This is the best, the plunge for the kill. I’m like a lightning bolt. The ground rushes to meet me and at the last second possible I open my wings just as I sink my talons into its spine. I hear a snap as the back breaks and the marmot goes limp. I’m thankful for the easy kill.
It is big, almost too big to lift. I’m famished and it’ll make my return easier if I eat a bit first. Fat back legs. Yum. I rip off large chunks of flesh and gulp them down. The blood is delicious, the meat warm and fresh.
I quickly gorge myself. Lots left over for the family. Time to go. This part is hard work, the flight home, but I love pitting my wings against the marmot’s pull to earth. One or two beats and I’m back in my air. I’ll use the thermals too on the quick return and then it’s back to the hunt.
Perfect day for hunting. The cloudless sky has let the sun heat the Earth and the thermals are out in force. I’m taking this one up another 500 meters and I’ll start my soaring there. I love hunting in the mid-morning. The shadows are near perfect and help pinpoint any motion way down at the bottom. Barely a breeze so it’ll be easy to hang in place as I scan back and forth. And the rodents are all hungry too, so they’ll get careless while they graze. Might even catch me a big jack rabbit if fortune favors me.
Man the lift today is fantastic. Hardly moved a muscle getting up here. This looks like a good place to soar from. I can see the rocks over towards the river where the rabbits hang out and the grasses below with the gopher colony. Good thing I saved all that energy. I’ll need at least 4 or 5 kills today to keep the family fed and the trip back to the nest is all uphill plus cargo.
Not a lot of motion yet. Just some grasses shifting in the breeze. Patience is my middle name. I can do this all day if I have to.
There! What’s that? Looks like a gopher. Yes! Now let’s watch what it does. Still too close to its hole for a sure kill. Gack! It’s gone back down. Next time little one.
Think I’ll move over a bit towards the rocks. Not much happening in the grasses. Maybe some bloody sparrow hawk has spooked them.
Something moving, something big. Just laying on that rock sunning itself. Bad move my friend, but don’t stop. I’ll drop a bit.
Marmot! This is better than rabbit. It’s almost too big for me. Just a bit lower…. NOW.
Lay my wings back and drop like a stone. This is the best, the plunge for the kill. I’m like a lightning bolt. The ground rushes to meet me and at the last second possible I open my wings just as I sink my talons into its spine. I hear a snap as the back breaks and the marmot goes limp. I’m thankful for the easy kill.
It is big, almost too big to lift. I’m famished and it’ll make my return easier if I eat a bit first. Fat back legs. Yum. I rip off large chunks of flesh and gulp them down. The blood is delicious, the meat warm and fresh.
I quickly gorge myself. Lots left over for the family. Time to go. This part is hard work, the flight home, but I love pitting my wings against the marmot’s pull to earth. One or two beats and I’m back in my air. I’ll use the thermals too on the quick return and then it’s back to the hunt.
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