floated as easily as the good one. I stared at the little clouds, and kicked until my head beached between smooth stones.
Nip whined beside Dragon whose head cocked under a bright cap. When I swam out to deep water Nip stood and barked. She was usually happy to lie near Dragon, and I would see them looking at each other, Nip lifting her head, gazing at the hawk which tilted its head and stared back. Itwas when I carried Dragon that Nip got jealous, especially when I stroked his neck or breast, his terrible talons. She whined and pushed against my leg, and I talked to her in a different voice, one for her alone. I was careful, too, to keep Dragon’s whistle different from the dogs’. Now I whistled Nip, and she swam to me, grinning because Dragon could not follow.
We paddled into our creek’s milder current. A sudden westerly blew. My tunic was warm from its boulder. The reflected mountains and clouds vanished, serried in white-capped waves, steely light.
Yellow-beaked, cold-eyed, two huge black and white birds hung above and rattled an evil call until Dragon plunged off and fought his leash. Crooning, humming, I settled him and followed the animals home.
“Black-backs nest around the lake,” said Hagar. “They’ll land on the water, tempt a dog to swim after them, and try to drown it. They’ll peck the eyes out of a lamb or anything helpless. A hawk kills clean.”
That evening Dragon stood over a rabbit’s liver, mantling and guarding as if somebody might take it away. I told him, “You can help guard the animals from the black-backs.” Beak flecked, he ignored me and stripped meat.
Now when I took off the cords and whistled, he leapt to my glove, a hop and a single wing-beat, unaware he was free. I fed him a tidbit. Twice more I whistled, rewarded him with liver and brains, and returned him to his perch. He sulked immediately, appetite dulled. “I used to have a bad temper,” I told him, “just like you.”
He came greater distances till I could whistle from a hundred paces and he would arrow through the air, glaring, as if to fly through the centre of my eye. Then he would be cuffing air against my face, talons gripping the glove, mewing for his bloody reward.
Once as I carried him a big rabbit ran. Fingers tremblingI unlaced Dragon’s hood. The rabbit bounced into the scrub. Dragon might have mistaken it for a dog. When another got up he ignored it. It disappeared, his talons tightened cruelly, and I almost shrieked.
Together next day we saw a rabbit start. My hand was shoved back, and Dragon was striking through the air, round-tipped wings chopping, hitting a tussock, hopping, glaring. I got him on the glove. His heart beat enraged. I had meat hidden but did not feed him. We walked on. He squirted shit hard against my tunic.
He had several flights at rabbits. Twice he took off after small birds. Each time he missed but got closer. His parents would not have rewarded him. Nor did I. He returned at my whistle. Just once he landed in a small tree and sat ignoring me. When I waved a strip of meat he came down like a spear, snatching, gulping.
One morning as Dragon was watching the wind lifting the grass like a wave through water, a young rabbit ran and stopped. I turned myself around and prayed he would see it, but he turned his head back to watch the grass lift and drop again. The rabbit scratched with a hind leg, and Dragon floated softer than a shadow crossing my hand.
He flew into a tussock, bounced, almost smashed into the scrub, but pinned the little rabbit, talons and beak. When I ran to him, he struck at me, would not withdraw his grip. I got him on the glove, fed him the liver, and he gulped and splashed blood in my face. I revelled in his wild satisfaction.
Home I carried him, crooning his song, whistling quietly, and split the head so he might gorge himself on the brains. He blinked at me over the top of a distended crop. I avoided his gloating eye.
Hagar listened to my description as
Nip whined beside Dragon whose head cocked under a bright cap. When I swam out to deep water Nip stood and barked. She was usually happy to lie near Dragon, and I would see them looking at each other, Nip lifting her head, gazing at the hawk which tilted its head and stared back. Itwas when I carried Dragon that Nip got jealous, especially when I stroked his neck or breast, his terrible talons. She whined and pushed against my leg, and I talked to her in a different voice, one for her alone. I was careful, too, to keep Dragon’s whistle different from the dogs’. Now I whistled Nip, and she swam to me, grinning because Dragon could not follow.
We paddled into our creek’s milder current. A sudden westerly blew. My tunic was warm from its boulder. The reflected mountains and clouds vanished, serried in white-capped waves, steely light.
Yellow-beaked, cold-eyed, two huge black and white birds hung above and rattled an evil call until Dragon plunged off and fought his leash. Crooning, humming, I settled him and followed the animals home.
“Black-backs nest around the lake,” said Hagar. “They’ll land on the water, tempt a dog to swim after them, and try to drown it. They’ll peck the eyes out of a lamb or anything helpless. A hawk kills clean.”
That evening Dragon stood over a rabbit’s liver, mantling and guarding as if somebody might take it away. I told him, “You can help guard the animals from the black-backs.” Beak flecked, he ignored me and stripped meat.
Now when I took off the cords and whistled, he leapt to my glove, a hop and a single wing-beat, unaware he was free. I fed him a tidbit. Twice more I whistled, rewarded him with liver and brains, and returned him to his perch. He sulked immediately, appetite dulled. “I used to have a bad temper,” I told him, “just like you.”
He came greater distances till I could whistle from a hundred paces and he would arrow through the air, glaring, as if to fly through the centre of my eye. Then he would be cuffing air against my face, talons gripping the glove, mewing for his bloody reward.
Once as I carried him a big rabbit ran. Fingers tremblingI unlaced Dragon’s hood. The rabbit bounced into the scrub. Dragon might have mistaken it for a dog. When another got up he ignored it. It disappeared, his talons tightened cruelly, and I almost shrieked.
Together next day we saw a rabbit start. My hand was shoved back, and Dragon was striking through the air, round-tipped wings chopping, hitting a tussock, hopping, glaring. I got him on the glove. His heart beat enraged. I had meat hidden but did not feed him. We walked on. He squirted shit hard against my tunic.
He had several flights at rabbits. Twice he took off after small birds. Each time he missed but got closer. His parents would not have rewarded him. Nor did I. He returned at my whistle. Just once he landed in a small tree and sat ignoring me. When I waved a strip of meat he came down like a spear, snatching, gulping.
One morning as Dragon was watching the wind lifting the grass like a wave through water, a young rabbit ran and stopped. I turned myself around and prayed he would see it, but he turned his head back to watch the grass lift and drop again. The rabbit scratched with a hind leg, and Dragon floated softer than a shadow crossing my hand.
He flew into a tussock, bounced, almost smashed into the scrub, but pinned the little rabbit, talons and beak. When I ran to him, he struck at me, would not withdraw his grip. I got him on the glove, fed him the liver, and he gulped and splashed blood in my face. I revelled in his wild satisfaction.
Home I carried him, crooning his song, whistling quietly, and split the head so he might gorge himself on the brains. He blinked at me over the top of a distended crop. I avoided his gloating eye.
Hagar listened to my description as
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