Sil

by Jill Harris

  “What’s up?” hissed Bel.

  Sil caught Tor’s eye. Tor cocked his head. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”

  “I-I,” stammered Sil, “n-no, it, it c-couldn’t p-p-possibly …” his voice trailed away.

  “Come on, Sil, spit it out!” said Bek, irritated.

  “Someone said if only the humans would help us, and I thought of a way we could maybe make that happen,” said Sil.

  “Go on, Sil,” encouraged Bel.

  “Someone at the competitions told me that humans kill magpies when they become too much of a nuisance.” He shivered. “I’m not sure what I think about that — it might be our turn one day. But if we could make the magpies a really big nuisance, the humans might kill the ones in our valley.”

  He paused to gather his thoughts. “What if we flew round the houses at night, squawking loudly like magpies? The small humans would wake up and cry and the dogs would bark. They’d have to put all their lights on again. If we did it enough, the humans would get very sick of it, wouldn’t they?”

  “Brilliant!” exclaimed Bron.

  “What a terrific idea!” said Bel at the same time.

  “Y’know, that just might work,” said Tor slowly.

  “How do we make magpie sounds?” asked another bird.

  “Like this!” said Bel, and she let out a harsh shriek.

  The tuis jumped with fright and looked around nervously. “Shhh!” said one, “you’ll bring the magpies.”

  Suddenly everyone was talking. Sil was the centre of attention — everyone had a question or a suggestion for him. Tor let the buzz go on for a while. Finally he called for quiet.

  “Well, what do you all think about the idea?” he asked. “Is it a starter?”

  The buzz broke out again. Obviously everyone thought it should be tried. Sil had a struggle to keep the grin off his face.

  “Okay,” said Tor. “Sil and I will take the idea to Jeb. I don’t need to say how important it is not to speak about this to anyone. Not anyone,” he repeated. “If the magpies get wind of it, they’ll do everything in their power to stop us.”

  “Where shall we say we’ve been?” asked one of the birds.

  “Just say we’ve been checking out the arena for signs of magpies,” said Tor. “Let’s meet here again tomorrow morning.”

  The birds flew off in twos and threes. Tor turned to Sil. “Thanks, Sil. You’ve come up with a really good idea. Let’s find Jeb and try it out on him.”

  “Tor,” said Sil. “I’m terribly sorry about what happened after the competitions. I wish I could undo it.”

  “Yeah, well, we do need to talk about it. But I think it’ll have to wait until we get this other business fixed. Come on, we need to talk to Jeb.”

  25.

  The Campaign

  JEB listened carefully as Sil outlined his idea.

  “There are a lot of houses in the valley,” Jeb said. “How would you cover them all night after night?”

  “I don’t think we could,” Tor answered. “We’d have to target a few each night.”

  “We could do it for just part of the valley,” suggested Sil.

  “How many of you would be involved?” asked Jeb. “Could you keep it up night after night? What about the risks? All our usual enemies prowl in the darkness.”

  They sat in silence, pondering.

  “I think this plan has real potential,” said Jeb, finally. “Congratulations, Sil, for thinking it up. It’s a very inventive idea. You young birds could do with help from us older birds, though — there aren’t enough of you. Not everyone will want to be involved and some won’t be strong enough, like Bron and Bel. I’d say you’d get about 12 or 13 starters.”

  “What about birds from outside the valley?” asked Sil, “They’ve offered to help.”

  Jeb looked dubious. “I appreciate their offers, but we don’t know them well — they might turn out to be a liability. The other thing is, we must keep this absolutely secret and it’s risky to trust outsiders.”

  They spent more time discussing the practical details. Finally Jeb said he wanted to talk it over with Pip. “He’s pretty busy with arrangements for the singing-in tomorrow. A lot of tuis want to pay a tribute to Old Sil, and it’s tricky organising that. I might not catch him till afterwards. Go ahead with your meeting tomorrow. Sort out the birds who think they can handle the flying but don’t discourage anyone from getting involved — there’ll be other things to do. Spell out the risks. Keep a watch out for eavesdroppers — secrecy is vital. If I’ve talked with Pip by then, I’ll join you at the meeting.”

  Jeb smiled at Sil and Tor. “You two are tops. We’re lucky to have you coming up behind us. This is a great idea — I haven’t felt so hopeful since the magpies arrived. It’ll take some careful planning, but I’m sure we can do it and the sooner the better.”

  After Jeb had flown off to find Pip, Bron joined them flying down to the flax bushes for a snack. When Sil got home, Pip and Bek were waiting for him.

  “Jeb’s just left,” Pip said. “We all think your idea will work. He and Tor will come over tonight and the five of us will start planning.” He cuffed Sil with his wing. “Just as well you’re not halfway to somewhere else, eh?”

  Sil smiled. What a flight life was, he thought, wryly. You were either diving or climbing, with the gliding bits few and far between.

  Mem flew back with food for Roz. “This won’t be enough to fill her up,” she said. “Sil, see if you can find some small insects — stick insects are too big.”

  Cicadas, thought Sil. They’re shedding their skins right now. I’ll drop in to the garden of the brown house. I wouldn’t mind having another chat with that dog.

  He flew around the garden searching tree trunks where cicadas clung while they wriggled and shrugged off their old, tight skins.

  His friend, the blackbird, was hopping across the lawn, head cocked listening for worms. Sil flew down to join him.

  “Oh, hello, Sil,” he said. “I hear you’ve had some adventures lately.”

  “Yes,” said Sil. “I’ve made some pretty big mistakes too. How are things with you?”

  The blackbird stood silent with his head down. Finally he looked up at Sil. “We had two eggs, in a nest in the karaka tree — great little spot, couldn’t be seen at all. Or that’s what we thought. Then one morning when I was out, a magpie flew in, knocked my wife to the ground, then stole one of the eggs. When I got back I helped my wife back to the nest but she died during the night. I tried to stay on the nest as much as I could but it takes two to hatch an egg and the second came to nothing.”

  Before Sil could say anything, there was a frantic barking from around the house. Sil took off instantly to the kowhai tree. The blackbird stayed where he was. “It’s all right,” he called, “the dog’s tied up. But he must have seen a magpie — they drive him crazy.”

  Sil looked all around. He hoped there was a magpie — he’d have a go at him, but he saw nothing. He returned to the lawn.

  “I’m terribly sorry to hear your story,” he said. “I hope we can drive them out soon.” He wished he could reassure the blackbird that there was a plan in the making.

  Sil found plenty of cicadas. He feasted himself, then flew back with several in his beak for Roz. He felt he’d hardly got to know her before he flew off to the competitions, so he chatted to her while he waited for Tor and Jeb.

  “Will you take me flying, Sil?” she asked.

  “Hmmm,” said Sil, “I’m awfully busy at the moment.”

  “Pleeease,” wheedled Roz. “Just a little one.”

  “I’m not promising,” said Sil firmly. “Besides, you’ve only just begun and it’s better if Mem’s with you.”

  “But she’s too busy getting food,” Roz complained.

  “Well you should be grateful,” said Sil. “It’s mostly for you.”

  “I’m getting good,” insisted Roz, “but I need more practice. Pleeease, Sil.”

 
“It’s not that safe right now,” said Sil. “But I promise we’ll go as soon as it is.”

  When Pip and Tor arrived they worked hard on the plan with Bek and Mem. They would fly in pairs for safety. Ten pairs, each tackling six houses a night, could cover sixty houses. In turn each bird would target a house while the other kept watch in a tree. They would divide the valley so it would take three nights to cover. Support birds would wait in a central tree at each location, ready to fly for help if necessary. They would repeat the manoeuvre then take a break after six days. If need be, they’d start over again after that.

  “How should we prepare?” asked Pip.

  “Line up the birds, practise dive-bombing and pulling up, and make sure everyone can mimic magpie cries,” replied Bek. “Up near the crest of the bush there’s a place too high for most other birds. We need to practise evasion techniques, too, because we’ll have to come in at window level to be heard loudly — within jumping range of cats and dogs.”

  “We’ll need rescue strategies in case anyone gets hurt,” said Jeb. “There are quite a few dogs and they’re not always tied up.”

  “I’ll have a chat with the gulls,” said Tor.

  “Don’t we need to suss out each house and work out the best angle of approach?” asked Bek. “And find the best trees for the support birds?”

  “That’ll be part of the preparation — the pairs can do it,” said Jeb.

  “It’s full moon right now,” said Pip. “We’ll have to wait until it’s darker or hope for a cloudy night. We certainly don’t want to be seen — by humans or enemies. We can’t do it in wind or rain, either.”

  They talked long into the night. The moonlight shone on their white feathers and gleamed in their black eyes. It glinted on the leaves around them and patterned the ground with black, shifting shadows — or were they stoats or rats slinking stealthily about?

  Sil felt himself nodding off. It was the second night he’d stayed up late talking. He’d been asked to sing at the lightening tomorrow, and he wanted to say something about Old Sil as well. To his amazement, at that moment Old Sil himself floated down gently and landed close by. Around his neck was a garland of kowhai flowers.

  “Old Sil?” murmured Sil. “I thought you were dead.”

  Old Sil made no answer. He simply smiled at Sil, and Sil felt a deep calm and happiness. He knew he was supposed to take the garland for himself. He hopped across but the garland had disappeared. Then Old Sil was gone, and looking around him, Sil realised the darkness had turned into pearly-grey and it was time to get ready for the singing-in.

  The singing-in was a great event. The birds in the valley would talk about it for many years to come. The usual rivalries between the birds were put aside and all the families were represented. The Chief Song Judge had even sent a tribute. The songs and speeches were splendid. Bird after bird spoke of Old Sil’s life: his kindness, his wisdom, his wonderful singing.

  When it was Sil’s turn, he spoke simply about the teacher he’d known. “He believed in me. He would have helped me get over losing the competitions. He would have told me how to make up for my terrible mistakes.” Sil’s throat closed up and he couldn’t go on for a moment. “I loved him,” he said finally. He found he couldn’t sing as he’d planned so he tapped his beak on the branch to indicate he had finished.

  As he sat listening to the other tributes, Sil thought he saw a flash of white a little way off. How dare you come near, he thought. You are responsible for this. Your days are numbered.

  When the singing-in was over, Pip and Jeb moved discreetly from tree to tree asking for volunteers to join the younger birds. Birds flying to the meeting were asked to make their way there inconspicuously. The large number of visitors in the valley helped to mask the departure of so many tuis for the arena.

  Sil counted 29 tuis in the pohutukawa when he arrived with Bel and Bron. There was a quiet murmur of conversation. Jeb held up his wing for silence and thanked them for coming. He spoke quietly, and the birds moved closer to hear him.

  “Using an idea from Sil, a small group of us have come up with a plan for ridding the valley of magpies,” he began. “It will take courage and daring. We shall need all of you to help, some to do the more dangerous work and others to support them. The most difficult job involves every one of us.” He paused for effect. “If it is to succeed, this has to be kept absolutely secret. I shall be asking each one of you to swear an oath to speak to no other bird about our plan.”

  He continued: “The plan will involve at least six nights of work from dark till early morning. That’s a big commitment and I realise not everyone will be able to make it. Now is the time to pull out if you want to, and everyone will understand if you do.”

  Not a bird moved. Sil felt a lump in his throat.

  “I’m proud to be leading you in this,” said Jeb. “Please come in closer. We don’t want to be overheard.”

  He took the birds through the plan slowly and clearly then asked for questions. There were none. He called for birds who felt they would be able to keep up the assaults on the houses night after night. Nineteen offered, including Bron.

  “If you can handle it, so can I,” said Bel defiantly to Bron, but Tor hopped over to them.

  “You might be fine,” he said, “but you might not. If you had to dip out, it would create a problem for the rest of the assault team. Would you two organise the support team instead? It’s a critical job and a lot of work. One bird alone couldn’t do it all, but you two should work together well and you’re good with other birds. Bel, you could train others to do the magpie calls. You’ve got it just right.”

  Within the hour they had two teams, and every bird had been sworn to secrecy. The assault team was briefed and flew straight off to its first practice with Tor and Bek. Sil went with them, leaving Bel and Bron to organise their team into pairs to fly around the valley and find the best trees for the support birds.

  They decided the moon would have waned enough in three days for them to carry out the first flights. There was little leeway to get everything done. The planning committee met at night to check progress. Four of the committee were in the assault team and it was tough doing the training as well. Jeb was coordinating everything, with Pip as backup.

  The magpie attacks went on. There were new reports every morning. The tuis longed to tell everyone that something was being done about it. As soon as the singing-in was over, the teams would spring into action, more determined with each fresh attack to succeed.

  On the third morning, they all came together at the pohutukawa tree to review progress: some birds were better at imitating magpie calls than others; there were nine pairs, not ten, so they wouldn’t be able to cover as many houses as they’d planned.

  Should they target the upper or lower windows in the very high houses? There was a huge, ferocious dog in one house — should they leave that house out?

  Jeb dealt with all the questions patiently and came up with sensible solutions. “You have been just amazing,” he finally said. “I can hardly believe so much has been accomplished in three days. The gulls tell me the weather will hold for the next four days, so we’ll be able to cover the whole valley at least once. After that we can expect wind. We’ll make a decision about that when we have to.

  “I can’t be everywhere at once, though I will be moving around. It’s vital for you to look after one another. Everyone has a buddy — you must know at all times where your buddy is. You know what to do if someone gets hurt. You know where to report back to at the end of the night. Remember, if you don’t do that, we will search till we find you. We don’t want to find you in your tree with your beak under your wing!

  “I know you’ve all got last-minute things to do this morning but by lunchtime you should be at home resting. Make sure you eat and drink a lot.

  “We’re going to do brilliantly tonight,” Jeb concluded. “Don’t forget what we’ve said, and said again: surviving is more important than completing the mission. If t
hings go wrong, get out fast!

  “Now off you go, and good luck!”

  26.

  Night Flights

  SIL and Tor sat side by side. The moon slipped in and out of the clouds. They were waiting for the last light in the big, old house to go out. Sil was to take the first turn. “Your magpie cries are better than mine,” Tor had said earlier that afternoon.

  They had met up as soon as it was dark and flown silently to a bottlebrush tree by the gate. They watched as, one by one, the lights in the house went out — all but one.

  “We can’t wait too long,” whispered Sil. “We’ve got five other houses to do,” but as he spoke the light went out.

  “Okay,” whispered Tor. “The coast looks clear.”

  Sil’s heart beat faster. He launched himself and sped towards the house. At the last moment he looped upwards. Coming level with the windows, he let out a harsh magpie’s call. Now for the window where the light had been, he told himself, and flew round the side of the house. He climbed higher, then swooped, fitting in three piercing shrieks before he pulled out of the dive. Once more, he thought, and repeated the manoeuvre.

  He flew swiftly back and forth, sending out the wild cries. That was enough. He climbed steeply over the roof and dropped back into the bottlebrush tree. A great bubble of laughter built up inside him and he started to giggle. He couldn’t stop himself.

  “Sshhh!” whispered Tor, “somebody will hear us.”

  Sil felt the laughter subsiding. In the house the lights had come on again. Then the door opened and light cut through the darkness. Two humans stepped out and looked over the garden.

  “Whatever was it?” said one. “Such a terrible noise to wake to.”

  “Unearthly,” said the other. “Like a bird but not one I’ve ever heard.”

  The birds sat like stone, hardly breathing. The moon sailed out from behind a cloud and filled the garden with brilliance. Could they be seen?