by Lewis, Gill
Rob, Euan, and I sat down at a spare computer and searched under ‘castles’.
‘How about Edinburgh Castle, that’s a good one,’ said Euan.
‘Nearly everyone did that last year,’ said Mrs Wicklow. ‘I want something diff erent.’
Euan muttered under his breath as Mrs Wicklow left the room.
Rob was spinning in his chair next to us. I searched through all the kids’ web pages, but nothing really grabbed me. All I could think about was where Iris was right now. What could she see? Had she made it over the Pyrenees?
‘Come on, Rob,’ I said. ‘Don’t expect us to do all the work.’
Rob whizzed over and bashed his chair into mine.
‘OK, budge up,’ he said.
He tapped in Iris’s code.
‘Not here, Rob,’ I hissed. ‘We don’t want anyone to see.’
‘Come on,’ said Rob. ‘Troll-face isn’t here.’
The computer took ages initializing into Google Earth. The clock timer spun over and over.
‘Chair race!’ announced Rob. ‘You up for it?’
It was our thing. We’d race each other by spinning the swivel chairs round and round from the bottom seat position to the top and back down again.
‘Three … two … one … GO,’ said Rob.
And we were off. Spinning like crazy. I kept my arms and legs tucked in. Round and round and round we spun. Rob and Euan were whirling blurs beside me.
My seat hit the bottom position with a clunk. ‘I won,’ I yelled. Euan came seconds in behind me, but he was looking beyond me, his face pale.
‘Callum McGregor!’
I turned and my blood froze.
Mrs Wicklow was standing behind me, hands on hips. She turned to the class. ‘Well, it seems Mr McGregor and his friends have time enough to play games.’
Everyone was staring at us. The class was silent.
‘Let’s see what these three have found for their research,’ said Mrs Wicklow taking a step towards the computer.
Rob reached over and hammered a few keys on the keyboard. I wanted to pull the socket from the wall. In a few moments, Iris’s secret would be there for all to see.
‘Come on now,’ snapped Mrs Wicklow.
Rob had time to press one more key. Mrs Wicklow sat down and stared at the screen. She raised her eyebrows and looked at me. ‘I didn’t know you had an interest in Northern Spain; the Pyrenees, to be precise.’
I looked at Euan but there was nothing to be done.
Mrs Wicklow turned the screen to the class. ‘Well done to Callum, Rob, and Euan,’ she said.
I looked at the screen. It didn’t show Iris or the route she’d taken over the mountains. Instead there was an article on the most amazing castle I had ever seen. It had turrets and high walls and was perched on the very edge of high mountains, like the edge of the world itself.
‘Castillo de Loarre,’ said Rob in a forced Spanish accent, ‘high in the Pyrenees.’
Mrs Wicklow raised her eyebrows. ‘Good work, boys,’ she said. ‘Keep it up.’
When she had moved across the class I turned to Rob. ‘How did you find that one?’
Rob laughed. ‘Sheer luck,’ he said. ‘I clicked on the nearest photo to Iris’s position, just to take the attention away from her. I couldn’t believe it when it showed this castle. I clicked on the link and here it is.’
I looked closer at the screen. ‘Amazing, isn’t it,’ I said.
‘To think she has flown over this very castle less than an hour ago. Maybe it’s one of her landmarks.’
‘Forget that,’ said Rob running his hand through his hair. ‘That bird just saved our skin.’
27th August
11.15 GMT
Loarre, Northern Spain
42°18′49.42″ N0°37′29.39″ W
Speed: 28.6 km/h
Altitude: 1.42km
Direction: South
Total distance: 1908.34 km
CHAPTER 23
We followed Iris’s journey every day. It took her three days to reach the south of Spain. She stayed near a reservoir there for nearly a week before heading off across the Straits of Gibraltar. I rang Hamish to say she had left for Africa. Hamish told me he’d been to Gibraltar before and seen loads of different migrating birds waiting for the right conditions to cross the stretch of water. He said it was like an airport lounge for different birds, squabbling for space until the right wind direction or clear skies carried them over the sea.
But it was the desert that worried me. On the map the huge expanse of the Sahara Desert stretched across Northern Africa. Pictures showed endless seas of sand-dunes. I read about rocks so hot you could fry an egg, and sandstorms so fierce, they could tear your skin off. It was hard to believe that Iris would fly over this furnace of land, with no water to drink or fish from.
And then my worst fear happened.
There was no signal from Iris.
I rang Hamish.
‘Maybe she’s sheltering in rocks,’ he said. ‘If the solar battery loses power in the dark it won’t transmit the signal.’
‘But it’s the middle of the day,’ I said. ‘She should be flying. There’s enough sun out there. It’s the Sahara.’
‘I know,’ said Hamish with a sigh. ‘We’ll just have to wait. It’s all we can do.’
I couldn’t sleep much that night. I woke early and tapped in Iris’s code on the computer.
11th September
NO SIGNAL
‘I’ve lost her, Dad,’ I said. ‘There was no signal yesterday. She went too far east into the Sahara.’
Dad flicked the edge of my bedroom curtain. It was still dark outside and sleet skittered against the windows. ‘I need help with the sheep, Cal. We’ve got to bring them down from the hills.’
‘She’s one hundred and seventy-eight kilometres from water.’
‘There’s a couple of lame ewes I want to look at.’
‘It’s not yet dawn in the Sahara. Maybe when the sun hits the solar panel on her transmitter, we’ll find her again.’
Dad looked at me. I didn’t think he’d been listening to a word I said, but he had.
‘Cal,’ he said, ‘I want Iris to be safe too, but it’s not going to make any difference if you sit all day with your face pressed to that computer screen. She’s a wild bird, in a harsh environment. You know that. There’s nothing you can do to help her out there, she’s on her own.’
‘But she’s a fighter, Dad. Isn’t she?’ I looked at the screen, at the exact point of her last signal. Every day of her journey, I’d zoomed in on Google Earth to her location. I’d panned over the landscape she was flying over. It was as if I was with her. It was as if I was flying right beside her all the way.
‘Come on, Cal,’ Dad said. ‘Have your breakfast and help me with the sheep. Maybe we can go up to the osprey nest later and fix it for storm damage. There’s going to be high winds tonight. Let’s make sure the nest is there for her next spring. It’s all we can do.’
I turned to switch the computer off, but before I could press the keys, a small orange dot flashed on the screen, a small orange dot that could only mean one thing. ‘She’s back, Dad,’ I yelled. ‘There’s a signal. There, in the desert. It’s her signal.’
Dad peered at the screen and ran his hands through my hair. ‘Aye,’ he smiled. ‘Maybe she’s dipping her toes in a green oasis right now, a long cool drink by her side.’
‘Dad!’ I gave him a shove, but I couldn’t take the grin off my face.
11th September
5.30 GMT
Sahara Desert
31°30′08.84′′ N 0°41′37.21′′ E
Speed: 0 km/h
Total distance: 3812.02 km
Iris opened her eyes and ruffled her feathers. A pale orange dawn was spreading across the horizon. There were no landmarks to be seen, no green-lined oasis or bright strip of river. There were only the pale golden dunes rolling endlessly into the distance.
The sands
torm had raged all day and all night. It had blown Iris far into the desert where she found shelter beneath an outcrop of rock. Gritty sand had worked its way into her mouth and nostrils and rubbed on the soft skin beneath the downy feathers. One foot was swollen and ached where the old cut lay open, and her long flight feathers were dry and brittle from the heat. She started preening them, oiling them so the barbs on each were smooth and sealed again.
As the sun flared into the sky, Iris launched herself up into the rising spirals of air. All day she drifted southwards and westwards. The desert sun burned into her back and the midday sand glared bright in her eyes. As the sun curved down towards the horizon, Iris sank down with it through the cooling layers of air.
Below, a trail of camels and people trudged over the high dune ridges, their long dark shadows pressed against the golden sand. A child riding high on one of the camels pointed to her as she passed. Deep within Iris, the memories of the distant cold-lands flowed through her, memories of a child watching, of rich fishing grounds and deep waters. They lifted her and carried her higher. And in the fading light a green smudge of trees and scrubland appeared, and beyond that, at last a strip of sunset reflected in the curves of a wide flowing river.
CHAPTER 24
I plotted Iris’s journey in my diary over the following weeks and downloaded photos of some of the places she had flown across. One was the bizarre Richat Structure in Mauritania, a pattern of huge circles in the desert that NASA scientists could see from space. She flew across towns with strange names such as Ksar el Barka and Boutilimit. There were photos of whole villages gradually being swallowed up by huge sand-dunes and photos of camel trains heading into pale desert dawns.
Iris’s flight took her south and west into Senegal and on to The Gambia. Her long migration came to an end along the banks of the River Gambia, not far from its opening to the sea. I looked at photos of the area. Dense green mangrove swamps and palms came down to the water’s edge. Crocodiles slept on domed mud banks at low tide. Fishermen mended nets alongside brightly painted boats.
23rd September
08.00
Mangrove swamp, The Gambia
13°’61’28.05″ N 16°28’58.14″ W
Speed: 0 km/h
Total distance: 6121.23 km
It was so different from the lochs and mountains of Scotland. And it had only taken her thirty-nine days to travel all the way. Hamish said some ospreys they had tracked made the flight in much less time.
Each day after that, Iris’s signals came from the same area. Her flight pattern made zigzags across a small river inlet where she fished, to roost trees in the riverbanks. She seemed settled and I didn’t check her position so often. I would have to wait until March before she started her migration north to Scotland again.
I sat down at the computer in my bedroom to check on her position. I hadn’t logged on for a couple of days. I turned on the computer, ready to tap in Iris’s code.
A stone pinged against my bedroom window.
I opened the window to see Rob and Euan in the yard below on their bikes.
‘Are you coming, Callum? We’re going up the top trails.’
I looked up at the hills. The trees blazed red and gold in the October sunshine. It was a perfect day.
‘Coming,’ I yelled. Iris would have to wait. I logged off and grabbed my fleece.
Rob was wearing a bright new helmet, black with silver stripes.
‘It’s a present from my mum,’ said Rob. ‘She got called in by Troll-face. I thought I was in trouble, but Troll-face just wanted tell her how well I was doing. “An enthusiastic approach to geography,” she said.’
‘Can’t think why,’ said Euan with a grin.
We headed out around the back of the farm. Even Rob had to push his bike up the hill. We pushed and pulled our bikes up the rutted dry stream beds and sheep tracks. When we reached the top we flopped down in the heather.
‘It’s still there then,’ said Euan.
He was looking across to the osprey eyrie on the island. There had been some stormy nights since the ospreys left.
‘Dad and Hamish went up and fixed it to the top,’ I said.
‘Why d’you reckon they migrate?’ said Rob. ‘I mean, why bother? Why not stay here?’
‘Too cold in the winter probably,’ I said.
‘So why not stay in Africa,’ said Rob, ‘where it’s hot and there’s always fish?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Maybe their nests are safer here. I mean it’s not as if we have monkeys or snakes and things to eat the eggs or young birds.’
‘Some people steal them,’ said Euan.
‘Bunch of weirdoes,’ I said. ‘That’s what Hamish calls them.’
‘Come on,’ said Rob.
We followed him along the top trail across the ridge of the hill. It was smooth riding, with a few gullies to whizz down and up the other side. The sky was summer-sky blue, reflected in the loch below.
‘Hey, down here,’ said Rob. He turned his bike down a steep track through the pine forest. ‘Slalom practice!’
We followed Rob’s trail in and out of the trees. The branches were so low I had to duck right down not to be knocked off. We shot out of the dark pines into an open bit of forest Dad had cleared and replanted with native trees. We whizzed past the young saplings fenced off from deer and down into the woods of oak and wild cherry that lined the loch.
Rob skidded to a stop in a ring of white boulders. I hadn’t realized we’d come so near to the tree-house. It was only yards away.
‘What is this place?’ said Rob. ‘We’ve never been here before.’
Euan was off his bike and walking round the circle of stones.
‘It’s like they were placed here,’ he said.
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
‘We’ve only just got here,’ said Rob. He scrambled up on the top of one boulder. A shaft of sunlight broke through on his face. ‘Perfect,’ he said.
He lay back against the stone and closed his eyes. If he looked up now, he would see the tree-house right above him. I didn’t want to tell them about it, not yet. I couldn’t face going back up there. I pushed my bike down towards the track by the loch and waited.
‘What’s up with you, Cal?’ shouted Euan.
‘I’m starving,’ I said. ‘Let’s see if Mum’ll give us some food.’
Rob jumped down to join us and we cycled slowly along the track. Autumn leaves, blood red, floated on the dark waters of the loch and clogged together round the edges of the shore.
‘Who’s that?’ said Euan.
A figure in blue shirt and jeans stood at the far end of the loch.
‘That’s Hamish,’ I said. ‘The wildlife officer I was telling you about.’
I pushed my way in front of Rob and cycled ahead of the others.
‘Hi, Hamish,’ I said.
Rob and Euan pulled up beside us on their bikes.
‘This is Rob,’ I said, ‘and Euan.’
Hamish nodded at them, but he didn’t have his usual cheery smile.
‘It doesn’t look good, does it?’ he said.
‘What?’ I didn’t know what he was talking about.
‘Iris,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’
‘I haven’t checked on her for a day or two,’ I said.
Hamish shook his head. ‘She’s not moved position for three days. Her signal is coming from a mangrove swamp. She hasn’t made any flights to fish or find new roost sites. It doesn’t look good.’
I kicked the ground. ‘I should have checked on her,’ I said.
‘It’s not like you can do anything,’ said Rob.
‘I made a promise,’ I said. ‘I promised Iona I would look after Iris.’
‘Rob’s right,’ said Hamish. He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘There’s nothing you can do. Ospreys face loads of dangers. It’s only now we’re tracking them, we know how many survive the long migration.’
I shook off Hamish. ‘I made a promise,’ I
said.
‘Callum … ’ said Hamish.
‘I’ll find a way,’ I yelled. I pushed off down the rutted track along the loch, but all I could see ahead of me was a knotted maze of waterways reaching into dense green mangrove swamp.
CHAPTER 25
‘Absolutely not.’
‘But why not?’ I said.
Mum thumped the casserole down on the table. ‘For a start, we can’t afford it. Then you’ve got to have loads of jabs and tablets for malaria weeks before you even think of going there. And you’re eleven, for goodness’ sake. The answer’s, “no”, Callum. You’re not going to The Gambia, final.’
I stood up. ‘I’m not hungry,’ I said.
‘Sit down, Callum,’ said Dad. He dished a pile of potatoes on my plate. ‘Even if we could get out there, what then? We don’t know anything about the place. How would we find her in a mangrove forest? It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘So that’s it, is it?’ I shouted. ‘Give up, just like that?’
‘Yes, Callum,’ said Dad. ‘That’s exactly what we do. We can’t do anything from here. She’s a wild bird. You know that.’
I slammed my knife and fork down and stormed up to my room. I flicked the computer on and looked for Iris’s signal. It hadn’t moved for three days. How could I have not noticed? I should have checked on her. I should have checked. I zoomed in as far as I could get. I could almost see the individual trees. Iris was in there somewhere. I wanted to reach in through the computer and pick her up.
Maybe I could somehow get to The Gambia myself. I looked up tourist information on the web. There were masses of hotels along the coast and smaller camps and eco-lodges inland along the river. They all had addresses and websites.
Of course, that was it!
I needed to contact someone in The Gambia to look for Iris.
I wrote email after email to hotels, eco-lodges, companies specializing in bird watching trips. I emailed a church group, a hospital. I even tried to email the Gambian government.
