Post by Palustris on Feb 1, 2023 16:29:24 GMT 1
Glenda and the ungrateful bird.
Glenda wended her way through Feggy Wood. She was on her way to visit her friends Bob the Fenwangler and Marcie Mossmummer. They lived next to the Black Pool in the middle of Feggy Wood.
Bob and Marcie.
Glenda was puzzled. There was something wrong with Feggy Wood. For a while, she could not understand what was wrong. Then she realised. It was quiet. Usually, when she walked through Feggy Wood, she could hear the feathereds chirruping away.
Today there was not a single whistle or chirp to be heard. She frowned and looked carefully into every bush and tree as she walked. She could not find a single feathered. Just as strange, the usual squarrels, squeakers, grizzlers, or snokes were nowhere to be seen either.
When she reached the path to Dampling Fen, Felix and Freda Thumfinger were waiting to lead her safely to the Black Pool.
"Good morning," said Glenda.
"Good morning," said Felix and Freda.
"It is very quiet today," said Glenda. "You are the first ones I have seen this morning."
"You are the first one we have led along the path today," said Felix.
"It is very odd," added Freda. "We are usually quite busy."
When Glenda reached the Black Pool, she found her friends standing by the water's edge.
"Good morning," said Glenda.
"Good morning," said Bob and Marcie.
"It is very quiet today," said Glenda. "I wonder why. It is very worrying. There are no feathereds twittering on the way here, and no small animals either."
Bob pointed at the sky. "That is why," he said.
Glenda looked where he was pointing. Up in the sky was a large flying thing. It looked like a brightly coloured feathered hunter.
The large flying thing.
"All the birds will be hiding from that. So will all the small animals," said Marcie.
Glenda blinked and wiped her eyes. "I have never seen a flying hunter like that before," she said.
"Nor have we," said Bob. "We have been watching it for some time now, and it has stayed there all the time. It does not seem to have to flap its wings to stay up in the sky." As he spoke, the flying thing dipped and whirled around. then, it went back up into the sky again.
"See," said Marcie. "It swooped and climbed without ever moving its wings."
"I wonder why the black cawing birds are not chasing it," said Glenda. "They usually chase the hunters."
"Well," said Bob. "It is either too dangerous for them to chase or they don’t think it is dangerous at all."
As they stood watching the flying thing, the long necks that lived in the Black Pool swam over. "I have never seen a hunter that looks like that one," said the male long-neck.
The long neck.
"And it must have terrible problems flying with those long sets of feathers on its legs," added the female long neck.
"It is very odd," said Glenda. "Usually the hunter birds only stay in one place for a short time looking for something to catch. When they see something, they swoop down. And if they see nothing, they go and look somewhere else."
She thought for a moment. "Are we sure that it is a feathered hunter bird? Perhaps it is a very big jewelled flyer from the Black Pool."
A jewelled flyer.
Bob shook his head. "It is far too big for one of them."
"Or is it a giant spreadwing?" said Marcie.
Glenda shook her head. "It is far too big to be a spreadwing." Perhaps we should go and see what it is hunting and warn it."
A spreadwing.
"Good idea," said Bob. "Lead the way."
Glenda wended her way through Feggy Wood, keeping an eye on where the strange flying thing hovered. The others followed her.
They came to the edge of Feggy Wood. The flying thing was now overhead.
"No wonder it has not flown away," said Glenda. "Look, it is caught. Someone has tied it to a tree with string."
It was true, there was a piece of thin string coming from the back of the flying thing down to the tree top. "We must rescue it," said Glenda.
"How?" asked Marcie. "Mossmummers cannot climb trees, our feet are too big."
"Fenwanglers cannot climb trees either," said Bob. "Our feet are too big."
"Wendles do not usually climb trees either," said Glenda. "Our feet are not too big, but Wendles are too clumsy. Still we have to do something for the creature."
All three looked up at the tree. "The lowest branch is too high to reach." Glenda said.
"If Marcie stands on my shoulders and you stand on hers, you could just about reach the branch," said Bob. He stood next to the tree. Marcie climbed on to his shoulders and wrapped her arms around the trunk.
Glenda climbed up Bob and then up Marcie. She clung to the tree. "I do not like being up here," she said in a quivering voice. "The ground is a long way down."
"Then don't look down," said Bob. "And please hurry up and get on to that branch. You are both rather heavy."
Glenda pulled herself onto the branch and began to climb slowly and carefully up the tree. She tried each branch before she climbed on to it. When she reached the top of the tree, she could see that there was a piece of string going from the flying thing into the twigs at the top of the tree.
She looked carefully at the flying thing. If it was like any of the other hunter birds that she knew, then it would have very sharp claws and a very sharp beak. "I can't see any claws," she shouted. "I will try and undo the string."
She reached up and got hold of the string. The flying thing jerked and swooped. Undoing the tangle of string from the twigs was not easy as the thing kept moving and pulling the string tight.
"I do wish you would keep still," shouted Glenda to it. "I am trying to help you."
It did not even turn around or speak, it just kept tugging at the string. There was a sudden, stronger gust of wind, and before Glenda could get hold of it, the string came free.
Silently except for the fluttering of its long tail feathers, the flying thing swooped off across the fields towards the straight river and the woods on the other side of it.
Glenda watched as it disappeared in the distance. Carefully, she climbed down to the lowest branch. Just as carefully, she got on to Marcie's shoulders and then down on to the ground. "It never even said 'thank you,' she said with a sniff."
"I just hope that the string does not get caught in the tree tops over there," said Bob.
"Me too," said Glenda. "I don't think there is anyone over there who would help."
"Now said Bob, brightly. "I think we have earned a cup of early grey leaf tea and a sticky cake. I had just made a fresh lot before you came."
"Yes, please," said Glenda and Marcie together.
So it was that none of them saw the flying thing come down to earth in the gateway to a field, just as the cows were going in from being milked. They trampled it into the mud and walked on it until it was no longer visible.
After her tea and cake, Glenda made her way home. The birds chirruped and twittered in the trees. A squarrel waved to her as she passed, and a tiny squeaker ran across the path in front of her. Feggy Wood was back to normal.