A Flight of Raptors

by Ralph Vaughan

  “That is the most ridiculous idea I ever heard!” Little Kitty cried, guffawing so hard she rolled off the back of the couch, landing on her head, which did no damage. “Ninja dogs? Stealth attack? Killer Hawks soundly thrashed by a pack of dogs? Oh, give me a break, Yoda. So silly!”

  Yoda bristled, his hair making him seem twice the dog he had been. “What’s so silly about it?”

  “It just is!”

  “Settle down, you two,” Levi warned. “Despite what Little Kitty said, it is not a silly idea, but it is impractical, and even were it successful – which is unlikely – it would not solve the long term problem with the Birds of Prey.”

  Yoda gave Little Kitty, who was still laughing to herself, the stink-eye, then turned to the others.

  “Even if we could overpower the Hawk guards and free the Parrots, that would still leave the others with which to contend,” Levi continued. “They would regroup and quickly subjugate the Parrots once more.” He paused. “And there might be retribution as well.”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking very far ahead,” Yoda admitted.

  “You meant well,” Sunny consoled him.

  “There are three aspects of this problem, and we must solve each one if we are going to truly help the Lost Parrots and not worsen their situation,” Levi explained. “First, of course, we must do more than just rescue the hostages; we must end their bondage at the talons of the Birds of Prey. Second, we must neutralize the Raptor gang as a threat, not just to the Parrots but to the neighborhood as a whole.” He cast a glance at Benedict. “And we must help the Parrots find a home where they will be safe, where they can thrive…that will be the hardest part, and may be beyond our abilities. But we will try.”

  “A new home?” Benedict asked. “We have known no other home but this.”

  “Do your grandfather and the elders say the same thing?” Levi asked.

  “No,” Benedict admitted. “No, they don’t. They often tell us how we came to be here, but more often they tell us where we came from, tell stories of jungles and tropical warmth and fruit for the taking. But we cannot go back…some of the younger Parrots do not believe such a beautiful place actually exists. This cold and barren land is all we have ever known.”

  “Well, it’s something to discuss with your Grandfather when the Raptors have been taken care of,” Levi said.

  Benedict looked startled. “Then you actually believe…”

  “That the Raptors can be taken care of?” Levi finished. “Of course I do. At the moment I am unsure of how we will accomplish it, but that we will accomplish it, I have no doubt. There is no problem that can be set by the mind of a dog that cannot be solved by the mind of a dog.”

  At that moment there was the beating of great wings around the house, like a flock of birds circling a wounded prey.

  Benedict shuddered.

  “They’re here,” Levi said. “The three of us had better meet them alone; Benedict, you stay in here with the cats where it’s safe.”

  Little Kitty shook her head in disbelief.

  “Don’t worry, little guy,” Kim assured the Parrot. “I’ll keep the fur-ball with a mouth in line.”

  Levi nodded in satisfaction.

  Sunny looked to Yoda. “You ready to back Levi up?”

  Yoda grinned. “In the words of Alfred Hitchcock, ‘Bring on the birds.’”

  Chapter Three

  They were waiting in the backyard, five large Raptors on perches above the ground. Gyre and another Hawk were upon the arbor, peering down from the broad leaves and curling branches of the grapevines; two more Hawks roosted in the branches of a tree that hung down over the south fence. By the southern portion of the eastern fence, perched upon a pipe-frame trellis covered by green-bean vines heavy with pods, was an Osprey who glared at the three dogs as they entered the backyard via the garage walkway, watching their every move warily, venomously.

  “Pretty sure I’ve seen that guy before,” Yoda whispered to Sunny as the two of them flanked Levi’s lead.

  “Oh?” Sunny whispered. “Where?”

  “In the dictionary,” Yoda quipped, letting his voice rise just a bit. “His photo was right next to the definition of psycho.”

  Sunny scowled in disapproval, but she could not disagree.

  “Knock it off,” Levi grumbled sotto voce.

  No doubt the Osprey also heard Yoda’s disparaging remark, but if it moved him one way or another, he gave no indication. Since the dogs had entered the backyard the only change in the Osprey was to shift the focus of his attention from the pack as a whole to Levi in the lead.

  Once they were in the open, Levi stopped and stared at the silent Osprey.

  “What are they waiting for?” Yoda whispered, this time keeping his voice so low it carried only to Sunny’s sensitive ears.

  “Shhh,” Sunny cautioned. “You watch the Hawks in the tree; I’ll keep eyes on the ones on the arbor.”

  “They’re making it easy,” Yoda smirked. “I wonder why they didn’t spread out more.”

  “Couldn’t take a chance with the house roof or the garage,” Sunny said. “Groucho nearly made a dinner out of Gyre, and I’m sure Smokey is lurking about somewhere…he usually is.”

  “Kim-smitten kitten,” Yoda quipped.

  Levi did not let his silent gaze waver one bit from the Osprey on the pipe-frame. While many aver it is impossible for a dog to stare at anyone without turning away, that is not quite true. In reality, a dog will usually avert his gaze occasionally, if not because he is looking at an alpha, then because he is responding to a primal impulse to be ever aware of his surroundings, by vision, hearing and smell, due to the possibility of unexpected danger coming from any quarter. In this case, however, Levi knew two truths – Ripper the Osprey may be the alpha to these Hawks, but he certainly was not to any dog, and Levi was already looking at the greatest danger present.

  “That yellow dog!” Gyre finally screeched when he could handle the silence no longer. “She’s the one that attacked me, and that wild-haired fur-ball is –“

  “Shut the beak!” Ripper’s voice was coarse and sibilant, like steam escaping from a rusty pipe, or an angry cobra.

  “And there was a cat who –“

  “Shut it!”

  Though he tried to maintain his constant glare at Levi while he tossed the orders at his excitable soldier, Ripper failed. “That true, dog?” he demanded of Sunny.

  Sunny started to protest, but Levi broke in smoothly.

  “It is,” Levi replied. “And if you want to talk to someone, you talk to me.”

  “Oh?” Ripper hissed. “You’re the alpha then?”

  Levi gave the canine equivalent of a shrug.

  “My name is…”

  “I know who you are, Ripper,” Levi said.

  “Well, if you know who I am, why are you just standing there?” Ripper taunted. “Come on over, pathetic little Rover; drop like a good boy and roll on over…Rover.”

  Levi opened his mouth in a deprecating grin. “An interesting twist on the children’s poem…a bit of doggerel, you might say…but nothing that’s going to happen today, or any other. And the name is Levi, not Rover; my friends are Sunny and Yoda.”

  “My mistake, Levi, I thought you said you know who I am,” Ripper said. “Obviously you don’t.”

  “Your name came up in discussion,” Levi said. “We were told about you.”

  “Benedict been snapping his beak about me, has he?” Ripper sneered. “I suppose the little worm-puller gave you quite an earful.”

  Levi did not reply.

  “Then, as you know, we’ve come to get our little friend back from you,” the Osprey said into the silence.

  “Benedict is going to be out guest for awhile,” Levi said.

  “You would keep him from his family?” Ripper asked. “The folks will be saddened; I promised we would bring their wayward boy back to the nest.”

  “His grandfather?” Levi asked. “Word is that you killed the father
to teach all the Parrots a lesson.”

  “And that the Parrots are enslaved by you,” Sunny added.

  “Young Parrots will tell tales out of form,” Ripper said with a hoarse chuckle. “And few of them will be true.”

  “Oh, so you don’t force the Parrots to be your slaves?” Yoda challenged, his wild fur so bristling that even the afternoon’s steady breeze refused to sweep it back into what others often referred to as his ‘Fabio moment.’ “You don’t terrorize them?”

  “Hardly,” Ripper countered. “The Parrots are our friends, our clients, as it were. We protect them from the travails of a cold and cruel world, keep them from the everyday harms that come to small birds who are unequipped by capricious nature to handle what comes so naturally to our kind.”

  “By ‘our kind,’ you mean thugs, right?” Levi asked.

  The feathers which surmounted the Osprey’s head like a crown depicted by a demented surrealist quivered, but when Ripper replied his voice remained low, hoarse, and seemed dangerously devoid of emotion.

  “I’ve given you some latitude because you’re dogs and can’t rise above the limitations of your species,” Ripper explained. “Also, you’ve been told a lot of lies about us by a very disturbed little Parrot.” He leaned forward a bit on his perch and his already big eyes seemed to swell even larger. “But beware, little doggies, always remember your place – on the ground…beneath us.” He returned to his former stance and even seemed to smile slightly, though it was always hard to tell with a bird’s beak. “Now, bring out Benedict so we can take him home.”

  “Take him home?” Sunny mocked. “Is that what your Kestrel was doing when he attacked Benedict and drove him from the skies?”

  “Kestrel?” Gyre screamed.

  The other Hawks tittered in laughter, but they went silent at a fell glance from their leader.

  Sunny grinned in mute satisfaction.

  But Yoda guffawed openly. “You sure Gyre is big enough to be a Kestrel?”

  Levi’s tail wagged (nothing he could do about that) but he kept his silence. Though their experience with birds was naturally limited, he knew that large birds shared a trait with big dogs in that they hated being compared with smaller breeds, and the Kestrel was the smallest of the Raptors.

  “Your companions are quite droll, Levi, a non-stop laugh-frenzy,” Ripper quipped, “but your time is running out, fast. If you don’t produce Benedict now, you won’t be laughing, none of you. You’ll be bleeding, all of you, laid out on the grass for the carrion-eaters to feast upon.”

  “In your dreams,” Yoda sneered.

  “You don’t have to worry about being slashed to death,” the Osprey said to Yoda. “Little ones like you, we don’t go through the trouble of ripping – we just carry you up about a thousand feet and let go. Two minutes of freefall, then splat! What a rush! Not for you, of course, but…for us? Oh yes indeed.”

  “Shouldn’t make threats you can’t fulfill,” Levi cautioned. “We’re fully capable of protecting ourselves.”

  “You’re just dogs!” Ripper snapped, finally out of patience and weary of the palaver. “Just three dumb mutts!”

  “Actually,” Levi replied, “we’re the Three Dog Detective Agency, and, as I mentioned earlier, Benedict is under our protection until this matter is settled.”

  “Oh, it will be settled, Levi, it will be settled, and it will be settled the way we always settle things.” His head swiveled. “Swoop and Vortex – the yapper!”

  Instantly, the two Hawks in the tree plummeted toward Yoda in a practiced tandem attack, one with wings folded back, the other with wings extended, both with talons at the fore. While the first Hawk was accelerating, the second was slowing, ready to take on any dog who dared interfere with the attack on the Pomeranian.

  Two dogs dared interfere.

  Levi made full use of the long legs he had inherited from his sire (who was of the breed known as “Handsome Stranger”) and leaped skyward, twisting his long lean Dachshund body to keep clear of the business end of the talons while fastening his jaws high up the Hawk’s left leg and clamping hard. The Hawk dropped as swiftly and surely as if an eighteen-pound stone were suddenly attached to it. Midway through the Hawk’s involuntary plummet the saucer-sized paws of a rearing Sunny planted themselves at the base of each wing, and the last thing seen by the Hawk was the earth rushing toward him very, very swiftly; just before the Hawk went splat Levi let go and rolled out of the way. The flattened Hawk struggled, but since an eighteen-pound “stone” had been replaced by eighty-five pounds of Golden Retriever muscle it was going nowhere until allowed to do so.

  Which would not be soon.

  “Help me, Vortex!” the Hawk gabbled through a beak buried in dirt and grass.

  While Swoop was imitating a dropped pancake, Vortex sank his talons deep into Yoda’s fur…only to encounter more fur. Unable to sink further in – the instinct of the hunter is to pull back once contact is made – Vortex tried to disengage, but found his talons thoroughly entangled in such wild hair as he had never before experienced in a prey animal.

  Caught between instinct and desire, Vortex hesitated.

  Yoda rolled, taking Vortex with him.

  Yoda rolled and thrashed like crazy. He rolled about on the grass as if there were an army of fleas doing Saint Vitus’ Dance on his back. In the air, a Hawk may the epitome of soaring perfection, but on the ground, thoroughly entangled in the wild hair of a manic Pomeranian, being thrashed within an inch of his life, he is a most pathetic and ungainly fowl, miserable and screeching plaintively.

  “Don’t worry, Vortex, we’ll…” Gyre interrupted himself with a blood-curdling cry of terror.

  “What –“ Clutch’s interrogative was silenced when Gyre’s wings, extended in frantic alarm, smacked into him, knocking him back into the grapevines that swirled over the canopy of the arbor.

  “Hello, Gyre,” Groucho said from the corner of the garage’s roof. “This is my friend Smokey.”

  Seeing the two cats gazing hungrily at him had ripped the scream from Gyre’s throat, and that was also when, startled, he flung his wings wide and toppled Clutch over like an upset garden gnome. By the time Groucho uttered his salutation, Smokey had already left the garage roof for the arbor, a distance of only about twenty feet; by the time Gyre let rip with another shriek of terror, Smokey’s forepaws had landed on the arbor’s rail, but less than a moment after his rear paws alighted Smokey saw Gyre’s tail-feathers out of reach and heading eastward. Smokey swung his head about and gave the Hawk just now extricating himself from the grapevines a grin that would have done the Cheshire Cat proud.

  “You must be Clutch,” Smokey said in his low whispery voice, settling into a springing position. “I have heard so much about you and your friends.”

  Clutch tried to utter the feared Hawk hunting call, but it came out more like a tight-throated squawk.

  “You should just remain motionless,” Smokey warned.

  Clutch froze.

  Levi whirled about and faced Ripper, who had not moved a single feather during his soldiers’ ordeal. In fact, his eyes had never left Levi.

  “It’s over, Ripper!” Levi said.

  “It’s not over till I say it’s over,” Ripper said. “And I don’t say it’s over. It’s just beginning.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Levi replied incredulously. “All you have left are Gyre and Courser; and the way Gyre was going he’s probably already over Otay Lake by now.”

  They were interrupted by renewed squawks of distress from Vortex. Levi chanced a glance and saw that a series of frenzied barrel-rolls by Yoda had brought Hawk and Pomeranian against the three lattice-panels that comprised the south end of the arbor, and that Yoda was now whipping Vortex against one of the panels like a carpet being cleaned.

  “Argh!” Clutch squealed from atop the arbor.

  “Just stay where you are,” Smokey advised softly. The huge tom leaned close toward the frightened Hawk. Smokey was mostly bla
ck, but his fur was traced with the silver swirls that had given him his name. He eyed Clutch with wide bluish-gray eyes. “Just looking. You seem rather small…for a Hawk, I mean.”

  “You don’t seem to understand the way things work. Levi,” Ripper said. “But you will…sooner or later.”

  Ripper then leapt from the pipe-frame, spreading his wide wings. He soared upward, circled the yard widdershins thrice, then lazily headed east. He did not look back.

  Levi looked after the rapidly dwindling form of the master of the Birds of Prey, then at those left behind.

  Swoop had given up trying to wrestle nearly a hundred pounds of dog from atop him.

  Vortex had been battered to unconsciousness, even though Yoda still thrashed happily about, filled with boundless levels of mischievous energy.

  Clutch still remained motionless atop the arbor, keeping an eye on the cat keeping an eye on him.

  Sunny, tired of sitting, settled down into the more comfortable Sphinx Position.

  Swoop groaned.

  “I can’t believe Ripper just left without them,” Levi said with an incredulous shake of his head. “Doesn’t he care about those who serve him?”

  “Somehow, I do not think empathy rates very high with that Osprey,” Sunny remarked. “The question is, what do we do with our new friends?”

  “Let…us…go…” Swoop said, with effort.

  Sunny arched her neck until she was looking upside-down into the Hawk’s face. “Shhh. No one asked you.”

  “It’s almost dinner time,” Smokey called as Groucho leaped from the garage to join him in staring at the petrified Clutch.

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Clutch protested, though he did so without rustling a single feather.

  “Shhh,” Groucho said. “No one asked you either.”

  Yoda trotted over to Levi and Sunny. “Someone help me get his bird out of my hair; he’s cramping my style, and my coif.”