A boy stares out his window, his mom told him it is too cold to go outside to play in the snow. It is 3:30pm and the sun is already on its way to bed. The boy is flipping through a library book about birds when suddenly from above the roof a bird lands in the backyard pear tree. The birds’ chest is checkered black and white, and beck points down. “Peregrine Falcon,” the boy whispered, “peregrine meaning wandering falcon.” The boy stares at the falcon.
“I will call you Tunstall, after the man who named you.” The boy yawns flipping through his library bird book for falcons. Tunstall is gone by the time he looks up.
The boy runs downstairs grabs his boots, parka, and favorite red hat with earflaps. “Mom going outside, I saw a falcon in the pear tree.”
The boy flings the screen door open, the wind banging it on its hinges. “Tunstall,” he yells, “Tunstall”.
A loud squawk came from the side of the house. The boy moves slowly around the house, he is a careful boy and did not know what to expect.
A falcon, three times taller then the boy stands with his wings back staring north, with one eye on the boy. The top of his head a black mask of feathers in the shape of a mustache curves above his cheeks. The boy keeps his distance. The falcon tucks his shoulders up and dips his head down as though protecting his dinner. The boy knew what this meant and gasping, he steps back.
“Can you read boy?” The falcon asked.
“You can talk?” The boy moves a bit closer.
“I can talk, but the question is can you read?”
“I can read some words.” The boy says.
“Get on my back, I am in need of your help. First I must get dinner for my family.”
“Do you have a name?” Asks the boy.
“Not one that humans speak, but my family calls me...” and the falcon made such a sharp noise the boy covers his ears.
“Wow!” The boy said. “May I call you Tunstall instead, he was the first human to give falcons their name.”
Tunstall agrees and the boy climbs on the blue black feathers of the falcons back and holds on tight.
They fly up and up over the boys house, over the neighborhood park, over the boy’s elementary school, over his best friends house, the market, the shopping center on the edge of town, and finally they reach the cliffs lining an old dry quarry. The trees look like blades of grass from this height.
“Hold tight, and close your eyes!” Tunstall said.
The boy barely has enough time to grab tighter, when the falcon points his wings like a fighter plane diving head first toward the ground. The boy knew that the Peregrine Falcon could dive 200mph, and knew that falcons stab their prey with their claws before immediately grabbing the pigeon with its talons.
“Whoa!” It happened so fast, seconds, and the boy now dizzy. He opens his eyes to see another bird of prey hovering in the distance. The other bird calls the same sharp noise, Tunstall’s bird name. Tunstall calls back. The other falcon, twice Tunstall’s size, flew as fast as lightning toward them. Right before crashing into each other, the larger falcon flips upside down, swoops under, and takes the pigeon from Tunstall’s talons.
Tunstall glides slowly to the ground landing like and airplane, his talons running on the ground for a moment.
“Who was that other falcon? Why did he take your dinner?” The boy asks climbing off the back of Tunstall.
“He is a she, and she is my life partner. You humans give the name wife, but her name is” and Tunstall gave a loud sharp noise again very similar to his name.
“Oh! Did you have to do that?”
Sitting quietly for a moment, Tunstall seems to sense something in the air, he has one eye looking at the boy with his head turned. The boy let out a giggle.
“What?” Tunstall said.
The boy covers his smile with his hand. “It’s just that she is so much bigger than you.” Tunstall stands up throws his wings back, and with one push is high in the sky.
“Wait Tunstall! Don’t leave me.” The boy watches Tunstall swoop and dive and call out, and swoop and dive again. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” The boy screams, feet cold from standing in the snow.
The larger falcon joins Tunstall in the air and they look like an air gymnastics team perfecting a routine. The boy watches how graceful the two birds fly, how fast and close they get without flying into each other. The dance finishes and both falcons land next to the boy.
“Wow, that was amazing. What do you call that?” The boy asks.
Tunstall jerks his head the opposite way of his body.
“Oh Hunny don’t be shy. That was our mating dance, I’m his mate, my name is,” and before she has chance to screech out her bird name, the boy said.
“Oh that is unnecessary, I do not speak falcon, but I am amazed at how well you two speak English.”
“Why don’t we have a nice boy here Hunny, did you ask him?”
Tunstall turns to look his one eye on the boy. “He says he can read.”
“Actually I said I can read most words, why?”
“Didn’t you tell’em Hunny! Oh it is horrible boy, they be coming with the big machines ruffling up dust and chasing the small mammals and birds away, do you know what that means?”
The boy steps back one foot at a time, but each time she comes closer and closer. The boy shyly answered, “no dinner?”
“Ahh ha, you brought us a smart boy Hunny. Yes, no food, means further from the nest to hunt, so we have to move nests. Oh this whole disaster reminds me of a story my great great great falcon mother told me, should I tell the boy Hunny.”
Tunstall turns to me and shrugs his wings.
“Don’t mind him, he’s a crab. Sometimes says I say to much when I talk in English. Where was I, oh yeah my great great great falcon mother told me that when tractors started to come close to her tree nest and put dirt on top of dirt to grow plants all in a row, which I never understood, there are plenty of plants not in a row. Where was I, oh yeah, and on those plants in a row they sprayed rain that even the cockroaches stayed away from. And that is bad, have you heard the cockroaches will be the only thing to survive after the world ends. The cockroaches stayed away from this smelly rain they sprinkled. Anyway, my great great great falcon mother swears that that rain made her eggs bad and only had one nest her whole life, I’ve already had three nests. Oh I hope those machines just let us be.” She turns her head to the sky, as though something or someone is calling her, she listens.
“Well boy it’s been great talkin’ to yah, but I’ve gotta go, the chicks are fighting over the dinner. Hunny will you fill the boy in with the rest?” She flies away.
“Climb on.” Tunstall extends a wing and the boy climbs up. It stopped snowing and the clouds left the stars hanging beautifully alone.
They fly slowly to the other side of the dry quarry and land next to a big bill board sign with a picture of a fancy building and tractors in the dry quarry. The boy looks at Tunstall and looks at the sign.
“I need to know, how long before they come?” Tunstall asks.
The boy reads the bottom right corner, it says “Coming soon! March 19, 2012.” The boy looks at Tunstall, “in two months.”
Tunstall let out a sigh of relief, then says. “My chicks will learn to fly by then and we can find a new nest to call home.”
The boy looks down with his hands in his pocket and kicks a small pile of dirt from the quarry. He yawns and climbs on the back of Tunstall. The boy snuggles into his feathers.
When the boy wakes. He stretches out his arms by the window in his room. The boy closes his library bird book and crawls into bed.
bY: sAsHa LoVeLl
