Thinking Green

Thank you for the feedback on yesterday's chapter.  Here is today's offering.  I love the beautiful drawing of the falcon by Edith Joy, aged 6.  When I asked Maria for her illustration, she wasn't thinking seasonally -  the seasons are different in SA anyway - but isn't Raymond cute? Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Raymond Thinks Green
Raymond cowered in the grass and slowly turned his eyes upwards. He tried to roll them back in their sockets without moving his head. Instinctively, he knew that moving his head or any other part of his body would be a mistake. Big mistake. Above him loomed a huge bird, blocking out the sun. It’s probably a peregrine falcon, he thought. He did not, in fact, know what a bird of prey looked like, but he had heard about them, how they lived in the old quarry on Scrabo Hill and made silent forays into the countryside.

Why would a big bird like that be interested in a seed feeder? How could it possibly get its beak into the tiny little holes? Ridiculous! Raymond had begun to believe that the kindly lady had put the seed out for the regular residents, like him. Well, he was hardly a regular, not yet, anyway. But he was certainly not a blow-in from the stone quarry. Let them get their own seed!
The air became cooler as the bird started to fall out of the sky. Raymond started to wish he was a chameleon as he pressed himself deeper into the spongy lawn. Think green! Think green!

‘That’ll never fill you,’ his mother used to say when he picked at his food.

‘That’ll never fill you,’ he murmured into himself as the bird craned its neck to see what was on the tall table – a few crumbs from a dried up bread roll and an apple core on the turn.
Seconds later, Raymond did not know whether to feel foolish or afraid. The bird was not looking at the feeder; it was looking at him.  Of course it was after him. Who wants a seed starter when there is raw rat on the menu? The whole ‘think green’ thing was not working. Inches away, however, was a freshly aerated bed of brown soil. If he could only ease himself over there he would have a fighting chance. Well, not really. If it came to fighting, he had absolutely no chance against a creature with sharp fingernails who could take to the skies with him suspended like a hang glider.
The bird rose again into the blue. Raymond shivered and shifted sideways ever so slightly until his little feet felt less resistance, sinking into the sandy loam. The bed was filled with soft green rounded leaves scattered at intervals. He snuck under the nearest one, closed his eyes and lay quite still.

Suddenly there was a flapping and fluttering and a gentle movement of air.  Raymond knew that something had landed.  He braced himself. Nothing happened. He peeked out from under the leaf.  Where was the scary shadow bird? Gone. Circling high and away.
Nearby, on the grass was a much stupider creature altogether. It had tiny claws instead of talons and was purring like a cat. Not a falcon, then.  Wood pigeon? Its coat was iridescent – shifting shades of grey blue and purple, with feathers that ruffled softly as it waddled towards the foot of the bird table.  Maybe she is a vegetarian, he thought hopefully. The bird was gazing at the feeder. It was too small; she was too big.
Bolder now, Raymond sized up the competition.  It seemed as if neither of them was going to get at the seed any time soon.  I’ll make a dash, he thought, to scare her away and then I’ll devise a plan of action.  Dash he did, but he did not get very far. Somehow, as he wriggled in the soft soil, his foot had become entangled in a piece of string. Not string, something thicker and stronger. A red coil was wound round his right leg, pulling tighter as he struggled.
What on earth? he wondered.
Just then a shrill shriek pierced the air.
‘Get out of my strawberries, you pesky vermin or I’ll skin you alive!’

The housewife stumbled out of the back door wielding a rolling pin with sugar falling from it like snowflakes.  It’s surprising how quickly the brain works when you’re under threat. While he was desperately trying to extricate himself from the strawberry runners, Raymond was also making a mental note of where the sugar grains were landing so that he could come back for them later. That is if there was a later.
The woman was screaming, the pigeon had taken off and was watching from the crossbar of the garden swing and with a final yank Raymond managed to pull himself free and make for cover.  He narrowly missed being pulverised as the hysterical woman flailed about in the bushes. If he hadn’t been so scared, he would have laughed. The angry woman retreated with a shrug of her shoulders and a slam of the door.
‘Vermin, is it?' said a silky voice nearby. ‘There aren’t many of us left who can claim that particular sobriquet or nickname.’
‘What?’ said Raymond gazing up into the branches of a tall tree. The creature looking down on him had a superior air.
 ‘If it’s seed you’re after, watch this.’
A small nose descended from a bough above, followed by a long, hairy tail. The creature lunged himself at the wall, scurried upwards, clinging to the rough rendered finish, and snaffled a snack from a clear plastic box stuck to the window of the house. Another feeder.
‘Simple,’ he said as he scampered away, disappearing in a grey smudge.
What just happened there? thought Raymond.
Suddenly he gasped. Through the dense bushes he could see two large yellow slanty eyes glowering at him. Raymond was sure he could hear someone licking their lips…