grunting with pleasure at this new-found game. Then he went up after her.
Fria spread her dark slate-grey wings and flew awkwardly half the length of the barn, aiming for the top of the griffonâs cage. She missed it, tried out of some dim instinct for the mechanics of flight to check herself with a braking of her wings, hit the side of the cage and fell to the floor. The mynah birds, now thoroughly astir, shrieked and whistled and Freddie came chattering after her.
Frightened, her heart beating with near-panic strength, Fria jumped into the air as Freddie neared her. Fear gave her enough strength to take her up and into a clumsy half-turn. She came out of it awkwardly and flew in slow wing-beats down the barn to the loft steps again. After her, delighted with the game, came Freddie.
It was Freddieâs delight in his antics that benefited Fria. In her own cage she had never done more than exercise her wings now and then by flapping them as she sat on her perch, and using them to half-jump, half-fly to and from the cage floor. She had never known the pure wonder of a peregrineâs real flight, knew nothing of the mastery of the air which is the supreme gift of the falcons, had never as an eyas stood ready for the first essay in flight on some eyrie lip with a deep drop below and the freedom of the skies above, nerving herself for the first launching into space to take her place alongside tiercel and falcon winging and wailing encouragement as they quartered the air a few feet out from the eyrie. Her wing muscles were stiff, unused, and untrained in co-ordination. When it came to flying she had almost everything to learn. With Freddie pursuing her now, she was forced into a series of panic lessons. For the next half-hour Freddie kept up his assaults and each time Fria was forced to make her escape, and each time she did some little of the stiffness and awkwardness of her wings dropped from her.
In the end whether from design, from the forced exercise of her natural wit, or from pure luck she escaped him by finding the ledge of an old bricked-up window high above the door which led into the barn, where Freddie, grumbling and chattering with frustration, could not reach her.
She sat there trembling with nervous and physical exhaustion while Freddie danced below her for a while. Then, as though tired of the taste of freedom, Freddie shambled off down the barn, jumped into his cage and bundled himself up in his straw bed and slept.
The mynahs which had escaped swooped down and into their cage. Fria sat on her ledge and slowly the fear she had known began to leave her. But as it died away, so did some part of the old Fria. For the first time in months she had known a kind of freedom and its unusual touch had stirred something in her spirit.
Smiler was the first into the barn the next morning. One glance told him that things were not right. The light was still on and, more obviously, Freddie was sitting on the lowest rung of the loft ladder placidly chewing at an onion â his favourite food â which he had taken from a string of these vegetables which was hung up over the grain-store bin beneath the far window.
Freddie looked up, gave Smiler a welcoming grunt, and then shambled across to him, holding the half-eaten onion in his mouth. Before Smiler could do anything Freddie shinned up him, clamped one long arm around his shoulders and nuzzled his face into Smilerâs neck affectionately, almost choking him with the strong odour of onion.
Smiler took one look down the row of cages and saw the mischief that had been done. With Freddie in his arms he went down the barnside, shutting pen doors and cages. He prised Freddie from him and put him in his cage, where he retired happily to his straw bed to finish the onion.
Smiler crossed the barn and closed up the griffonâs and the mynah birdsâ cages and then stood in front of Friaâs cage. It was empty and the upturned bath lay across the damp
Fria spread her dark slate-grey wings and flew awkwardly half the length of the barn, aiming for the top of the griffonâs cage. She missed it, tried out of some dim instinct for the mechanics of flight to check herself with a braking of her wings, hit the side of the cage and fell to the floor. The mynah birds, now thoroughly astir, shrieked and whistled and Freddie came chattering after her.
Frightened, her heart beating with near-panic strength, Fria jumped into the air as Freddie neared her. Fear gave her enough strength to take her up and into a clumsy half-turn. She came out of it awkwardly and flew in slow wing-beats down the barn to the loft steps again. After her, delighted with the game, came Freddie.
It was Freddieâs delight in his antics that benefited Fria. In her own cage she had never done more than exercise her wings now and then by flapping them as she sat on her perch, and using them to half-jump, half-fly to and from the cage floor. She had never known the pure wonder of a peregrineâs real flight, knew nothing of the mastery of the air which is the supreme gift of the falcons, had never as an eyas stood ready for the first essay in flight on some eyrie lip with a deep drop below and the freedom of the skies above, nerving herself for the first launching into space to take her place alongside tiercel and falcon winging and wailing encouragement as they quartered the air a few feet out from the eyrie. Her wing muscles were stiff, unused, and untrained in co-ordination. When it came to flying she had almost everything to learn. With Freddie pursuing her now, she was forced into a series of panic lessons. For the next half-hour Freddie kept up his assaults and each time Fria was forced to make her escape, and each time she did some little of the stiffness and awkwardness of her wings dropped from her.
In the end whether from design, from the forced exercise of her natural wit, or from pure luck she escaped him by finding the ledge of an old bricked-up window high above the door which led into the barn, where Freddie, grumbling and chattering with frustration, could not reach her.
She sat there trembling with nervous and physical exhaustion while Freddie danced below her for a while. Then, as though tired of the taste of freedom, Freddie shambled off down the barn, jumped into his cage and bundled himself up in his straw bed and slept.
The mynahs which had escaped swooped down and into their cage. Fria sat on her ledge and slowly the fear she had known began to leave her. But as it died away, so did some part of the old Fria. For the first time in months she had known a kind of freedom and its unusual touch had stirred something in her spirit.
Smiler was the first into the barn the next morning. One glance told him that things were not right. The light was still on and, more obviously, Freddie was sitting on the lowest rung of the loft ladder placidly chewing at an onion â his favourite food â which he had taken from a string of these vegetables which was hung up over the grain-store bin beneath the far window.
Freddie looked up, gave Smiler a welcoming grunt, and then shambled across to him, holding the half-eaten onion in his mouth. Before Smiler could do anything Freddie shinned up him, clamped one long arm around his shoulders and nuzzled his face into Smilerâs neck affectionately, almost choking him with the strong odour of onion.
Smiler took one look down the row of cages and saw the mischief that had been done. With Freddie in his arms he went down the barnside, shutting pen doors and cages. He prised Freddie from him and put him in his cage, where he retired happily to his straw bed to finish the onion.
Smiler crossed the barn and closed up the griffonâs and the mynah birdsâ cages and then stood in front of Friaâs cage. It was empty and the upturned bath lay across the damp
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