by Joanna Orwin
‘Then I realised keas wouldn’t attack so many ewes at once,’ said Kirsten. ‘And the damage – it was too much for keas. It was awful. Blood and bits of sheep and wool everywhere. The sheep were terrified. Cowering against the fence.’
‘Something panicked them, all right. And not long before.’ Hamish thought some more. ‘Must be dogs. More than one by the sound of it. Shit. That’s just what we need.’
It was one disaster after another. Why them? Why now? Life was so bloody unfair. That ache in his chest that came when he thought of Dad settled in his stomach, like a heavy stone.
≈ FIVE
SNOW HAD FALLEN. It lay in drifts against the fences. Fog had come in again, thick and freezing. Nothing stirred in the pre-dawn darkness. Hamish and Tama stood on the knoll in the paddock at the start of their lambing beat. They waited, straining their ears to hear. It was silent. The muffled silence that comes with thick fog. A silence that makes a listener sure sound is out there somewhere, just beyond the limit of hearing. Sound of the sort made by the Seven Sentinels when it blew nor’west, thought Hamish suddenly. Hadn’t that sound woken him in the night? A faint echo was lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. But he must have been dreaming. You couldn’t hear the Sentinels from the house.
Restless, he shifted the rifle into the crook of his other arm and tugged the balaclava down further over his eyebrows. The cold was creeping up his legs. He stamped his feet to restore the circulation.
The sudden sound startled Tama. He moved uneasily. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing – it was me.’ Hamish was glad to have the silence broken. He shifted the rifle again. ‘I don’t reckon the dogs’ll turn up here. They’ll go back to the same spot, if they come at all.’ If anyone got a shot at them, it would be Tod.
More time passed and Hamish had had enough. ‘Nothing’s likely to happen now,’ he said. ‘Reckon we could make a start on checking the ewes. We’ll have to walk the whole beat. Binoculars aren’t any use in this.’ He gestured at the fog.
Tama was equally keen to get moving. He picked up the lamb kit and followed Hamish off the knoll.
‘You take that side of the paddock, check from the middle out to the fence. I’ll take this side.’ Hamish slung the rifle over his shoulder, thinking he shouldn’t have bothered to bring it. It would be a nuisance now. He wished Storm was with them. She would pick out any sheep in trouble, regardless of the lack of visibility. But they’d left the dogs behind, not wanting them to warn off any intruders.
Time passed slowly. The fog lifted a little, making the job easier. Hamish could see Tama every now and then, a dim shape moving in the distance. Distorted by the fog, he seemed far off then suddenly closer before receding in the distance again, a dream figure, scarcely human. Apart from the occasional sheep, he was the only other being visible in this surreal landscape.
Not quite. Sudden sharp movement caught the periphery of Hamish’s vision. Startled, he swore, the words absorbed by the fog as though he had not spoken. Up there, in the direction of the Sentinels, something moved again. He narrowed his eyes, trying to screen out the fog glare.
And then he saw it.
A dark shape obscured by the fog. Backlit, so he couldn’t see more than a blurred silhouette. Bird-like but far too big for a kea. A hawk? His brain was telling him it was too big for any bird he had seen before. Hamish shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to sharpen his vision. It was too late, the shape had gone again, swallowed up by the fog.
He shook his head again, dismissing what he thought he’d seen. It was his imagination, had to be. What else could it have been but a kea or a hawk? He waited in the hope he would see it again, properly this time. But whatever it was had vanished. All he could see in that direction were the Seven Sentinels, now standing out in sharp outline against the fog, black and featureless.
Unease prickled at the back of his neck, as though something out there was watching him. He quickened his pace and caught up with Tama, not wanting to be on his own any longer.
Things were not much better inside the house. Jane MacIntyre had let the range go out. The fog’s cold breath had infiltrated the kitchen. The early morning’s dishes were still stacked in the sink. There were no welcoming cooking smells, no sign of their second breakfast. Hamish stared around the kitchen. What was going on? Before he could question his mother, Kirsten and Tod came in. They looked grim and exhausted.
Jane busied herself at the bench. She spoke without turning round. ‘It’s been chaotic here this morning. Nothing but phone calls, and then the damn range died on me. Check it out, will you, Tod? I haven’t been able to get it going again.’
She sounded okay. Hamish breathed more easily. He was getting himself into a state, reading too much into everything. She’d just had a bad morning. He watched her fill the electric jug to boil eggs and cut slices of bread for toast. Yeah, she was okay. Of course she was.
Tod, muttering curses under his breath, succeeded in getting the range to draw properly again. At last they all sat down at the table to eat the hastily prepared meal.
No one was hungry. Lamb losses were always bad, but for the MacIntyres they had come at the worst possible time. Hamish toyed with his egg, then pushed it aside. He spooned extra sugar into his mug then gulped the hot comforting brew. Despite himself, his thoughts kept returning to that shape in the fog.
Eventually Kirsten spoke. ‘Didn’t you see anything? There were more injured ewes on your beat when we came through. Those dogs were there at some stage.’
‘Not while we were. Didn’t see any sign of dogs or injured sheep,’ said Hamish.
‘I had to put three ewes down,’ said Tod. ‘The weird thing was, their lambs were missing. Two of the ewes had given birth recently, but there was no sign of the lambs. Not a trace.’
‘Could’ve been dragged off into the matagouri,’ said Hamish slowly. ‘Anyway, you wouldn’t necessarily find remains in that fog.’
‘You could be right,’ agreed Tod, but he didn’t look convinced.
‘You don’t think it could be keas after all?’ asked Hamish, still thinking about what he’d seen, part seen. Across the table, Tama’s eyebrows shot up. Hamish pretended not to notice. He hadn’t said anything to Tama about what he’d seen out there.
Tod snorted dismissively. ‘Birds? You’ve got to be kidding – they couldn’t cause this level of damage. No way.’
So that was that, then. Hamish subsided. Kirsten pushed her plate aside and stood up abruptly. ‘I’ve got something to do in the workshop.’ She rushed out of the room.
‘Isn’t that just like a female?’ said Tod scathingly. ‘Hysterical. As if emotion ever solved anything. Bullets, that’s what’s needed.’
‘Don’t be so hard on her, Tod,’ said Jane. ‘These lamb losses are a huge blow.’ She sounded distracted, as if she’d spoken out of habit rather than conviction.
Hamish looked at her, frowning. There was definitely something not quite right here. She’d hardly said a word since they sat down. Well, he had enough to worry about without adding his mother to the load. He pushed back his chair. ‘I’m off too,’ he said, not meeting Tama’s eye.
He had something he wanted to check out. No matter how he tried to rationalise it, that bird he had glimpsed was way too big. Hamish pulled a bird field guide from the bookshelves in the living room. He didn’t really expect to find any reference to something that size. But there it was.
The field guide said there had once been a giant eagle in New Zealand, in prehistoric times. Only subfossil remains had been found. The book gave no details.
Hamish stared at the brief note, then slowly closed the book and put it back on the shelf. He was losing it for sure. There was no way he could’ve seen some sort of giant eagle. What he’d glimpsed was nothing more than a fog-induced nightmare. There was so much bad stuff going on, his mind was playing tricks on him. Tod was right. What else but dogs would be attacking their sheep?
Before they did the
afternoon round, Tama baled him up. ‘We’ve got some talking to do.’
Hamish nodded unwillingly. He led the way to the wood shed. Inside its shelter, they subsided onto the chopping blocks. Without shifting his eyes from Hamish’s face, Tama took out his tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette. He didn’t say anything until he’d lit up.
‘You’re holding out on me, aren’t you, bro? You saw something out there this morning, didn’t you?’ His voice was tough, unfriendly.
‘No I’m not. Holding out on you, I mean,’ said Hamish, bracing himself. ‘It’s just … I thought I saw something, that’s all.’
‘So?’ Tama was impatient. ‘Quit stuffing around. What?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me,’ said Hamish. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t anything. I’ve checked it out.’
Tama blew a mouthful of smoke into Hamish’s face. ‘You’re full of crap, man. I’m waiting.’
Hamish hesitated. But Tama wasn’t going to let up. Reluctantly he told him about the big bird. That the only thing that size in New Zealand was a giant eagle. ‘The problem is, it’s extinct.’
It sounded seriously crazy, put in words. He held his breath, waiting for Tama’s inevitable reaction. He got it.
‘Some problem! Sounds a bit like that moa some guy saw recently, strutting its stuff.’
‘I knew you’d laugh,’ said Hamish defiantly. ‘But you did ask.’
‘Okay. Tell me more. When was the last one seen?’
Hamish shifted uncomfortably. ‘Um, about five hundred years or so ago.’
‘So where’s it been all this time?’ Tama was now openly disbelieving. ‘I mean, you’d have to be blind not to notice something that big, cruising the skies and that. Attacking the odd vehicle. Chasing skiers.’
‘Okay okay – you think I don’t know that?’ Hamish searched for something logical to say, anything to make himself seem less stupid. ‘It is possible a giant eagle could survive in some remote part of the backcountry. Some scientists think moas might still exist in parts of Fiordland.’
Tama gave this short shrift. ‘Yeah, sure. What about all those choppers out there hunting deer? Fat chance they wouldn’t spot a giant bloody eagle.’
‘Now you know why I didn’t tell you,’ said Hamish. ‘Give it a rest, Tama. It was just a dumb idea.’
Hamish felt even dumber when their neighbour Phil Coulter phoned later that evening and he answered the call.
‘Hamish? You having any problems over there?’
‘Like what?’ said Hamish cautiously, startled. It was as if Phil had tapped into his muddled thoughts.
‘I’ve lost some sheep. Looks like effing dogs. Have you had any losses?’
‘Well, yeah. We have. Yesterday, and more this morning,’ said Hamish.
‘Have you seen anything?’ Phil was speaking again. ‘From the amount of damage, I reckon it’s a pack, but they’re bloody cunning. Haven’t set eyes on the buggers yet.’
‘Er … no. Not a sign,’ said Hamish. At least this conversation with Phil was putting things back into perspective for him. Here was confirmation that it was dogs attacking the sheep. He cursed himself for telling Tama about that bird he’d seen. He just hoped the other boy wouldn’t say anything to Tod and Kirsten. He would never live it down.
Phil rabbited on for a while, then rang off, after making Hamish promise they would all attend a meeting the following evening at Rod Jamieson’s, across the other side of the basin, to discuss what action should be taken. Something about a posse. If all the locals were getting involved, they’d soon have these dogs sorted. It wasn’t his responsibility, after all.
But at the start of the next morning’s round, Hamish’s uneasiness returned. The fog clung close to the ground again, changing the shape of familiar features. He felt on edge. It wasn’t the thought of those dogs. He would welcome the chance to blast them into oblivion, his imagined bird with them. It was something else. Maybe that stone hidden in his soccer bag, his guilty conscience. As soon as he got the chance he would put it back in the shelter.
Once more, he wished they had Storm with them. He missed her reassuring rough flank pressed against his leg. They had left the dogs tied up again as Tod was hoping to get a shot at the invading pack before the posse took over.
Tama broke into his thoughts ‘It’s getting lighter.’ He stretched awkwardly, his movements impeded by the amount of clothing he was wearing.
A thin filtered light was edging under the fog. It highlighted the hoar frost and the patches of snow, making them glisten with an intensity that hurt Hamish’s eyes. But the visibility was worse, if anything. The light reflected back from the fog so that it seemed thicker than ever. Like a lumpy old duvet, it sagged just above his head. He couldn’t see more than fifty metres in any direction, but there seemed little point in waiting for improvement.
‘Right, let’s move then.’ He slung the rifle over his shoulder.
‘Same tactics as yesterday?’
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ said Hamish slowly. For some reason he was reluctant to separate. He shook himself impatiently. Any dogs around would probably sense their presence and scarper long before they were spotted.
‘Yell if you get into trouble,’ he told Tama. ‘I won’t be far away.’
‘Expecting an eagle?’ asked Tama, grinning.
‘Shut it,’ said Hamish, without rancour. He couldn’t blame Tama for seizing the chance to rub it in.
Just when he was thinking they would get through the whole beat without any problems, he heard the other boy shout. Scream, almost.
‘Keep your hair on!’ he yelled back, annoyed. Joking was all very well, but Tama was pushing it. ‘I’m coming.’
Deliberately sauntering, Hamish started across the paddock to join him. He could see him clearly now. The silly sod was running backwards and forwards, waving his arms. He stumbled and fell. Hamish stopped. What the hell was he up to? Tama got to his feet and started running again. Exasperated, Hamish picked up his pace.
Then he heard the beat of wings. A dark shape hurtled down out of the fog. The shape he had glimpsed the day before, clearly visible this time. Hamish’s heart started to pound. It was some sort of bird of prey. He could see its talons. But it was huge. The bird turned in a curving steep dive, aiming for Tama. Yelling a warning, Hamish began to run.
Ahead of him, Tama was weaving backwards and forwards again. He had his arms over his head, trying to protect himself. His attacker had circled and was coming in. Hamish ran, cursing the heavy clothing that slowed him down. The rifle bumped against his back. He wouldn’t be able to use it. The dark shape was moving too fast. And Tama was in the way.
The outspread wings loomed over Tama, dwarfing him. Hamish could see its legs clearly now, hanging down as it prepared to attack. The hairs rose on the back of his neck.
Tama couldn’t scramble clear. The giant bird struck. Tama screamed. Hamish froze for a moment. Then he ran again, this time as fast as he could. But it wasn’t fast enough.
Tama was lifted off his feet. The huge wings beat furiously as the giant bird tried to gain height. The boy was being dragged beneath it, his feet barely brushing the tops of the tussocks. Desperately, Hamish yelled as he ran, waving his arms. For a brief moment, the creature hesitated, its head turned towards the new source of noise. It was long enough for it to lose momentum.
With a final lunge, Hamish reached Tama. He grabbed his feet and held on grimly. The sudden extra weight was too much. The huge bird released its grip. As the two boys fell into a heap on the ground, it circled overhead once, then disappeared into the fog.
They lay there for a long time, not moving. Then Hamish let go of Tama and sat up slowly. ‘It’s gone.’
Tama lay still, his head buried in his arms. Hamish looked at him. His Swanndri was torn to shreds along both shoulders where the talons had gripped him. A picture of those viciously hooked talons filled Hamish’s mind. Talons hooked firmly into Tama’s clothing. Strong enough to lift him off the ground. H
e shut the image out of his head.
‘Are you okay?’
Tama rolled over, his arms still shielding his face. His voice was muffled. ‘What do you think?’ He sat up cautiously.
‘Are you?’ asked Hamish again. It was better to focus on practicalities – he couldn’t think about what had just happened. Not yet.
‘Think so,’ said Tama. He wriggled his shoulders, then turned his head to look along them. His eyes widened. ‘Shit!’ He plucked at the tattered remains of the fabric of his Swanndri.
‘Better check for damage,’ said Hamish. He helped Tama out of the Swanndri, then stood looking at the clothing beneath. It was torn too. He eased the layers of cloth away then whistled, shocked. Deep lines were scored across Tama’s skin. Beads of blood oozed from them. ‘Geez! A bit further and you’d be mincemeat!’
‘Thanks,’ said Tama wryly. He felt his shoulders. ‘Seem okay. Just a bit sore. Good thing I had all that gear on, I reckon.’ He tried to laugh and failed.
‘The skin’s broken,’ said Hamish. ‘I guess we should disinfect it. Where’s the lambing kit?’ He spoke with a briskness he was far from feeling.
‘Dunno. Over there somewhere.’ Tama gestured vaguely. He was shaking now, his face whiter than ever. ‘That was a close call. I owe you one, bro.’
Hamish fetched the lambing kit and concentrated on swabbing Tama’s bruised and scraped skin. He tried to keep his mind blank, but couldn’t shut out repeating images of that huge dark shape appearing so suddenly out of the fog. He put the disinfectant away and glanced uneasily at the sky. ‘Get dressed, Tama. I think we should get out of here, fast.’
‘Right.’ Tama needed no further prompting. He scrambled stiffly to his feet.
The two boys started walking. They’d not gone far when Tama thought he heard something. He stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Listen!’
Hamish froze. He could hear it now. The beating of wings. Getting louder, getting closer. The hairs rose on the back of his neck again. ‘It’s coming back!’ He shrugged the rifle off his shoulder and loaded it with fumbling fingers.
