Blue Dawn Jay of Aves Read online

CHAPTER 10

  RAPTOR’S DEN

  Blue woke to pain throughout his body and to unfamiliar song from birds very close by. It was similar to the red tailed hawk language, though richer in sub-frequencies, so Blue was able to understand most of it almost immediately.

  “The landing was perfection itself, you must admit,” sang the female falcon. “A consummate entrance it was, despite darkness of a storm and gale-force winds, and there is not a broken feather on either of us. Now that’s flying!”

  “And the prey bird still lives,” sang the male falcon. “A most unusual and delicate task, unprecedented in deed or song.”

  “Quite so my love, quite so,” replied the female. “Especially given the darkness. Winds we can master, blindness we cannot. We don't have the night-faring equipment of our esteemed host.”

  “All right then,” said a third, gruff, far deeper voice in plain language from even closer. “Not bad flying for falcons, given the storm. IF the jay will live.”

  This harsh voice was one that Blue had heard before. He opened his eyes. Poised above him in the dim light was a terrifying apparition for any songbird to behold. It was a huge hunting bird, with mottled brown and gray feathers with white patches that fluffed out to make it appear titanic in size. Its forward-looking eyes were enormous and wide-spaced.

  Blue recognized this particular raptor. He recognized also where he was; he was in the hollowed out trunk of the great tree that served as the nesting place of this, the greatest killer of Song Wood. Crawlers of the night, and many an unwary bird had ended up here as food for this terrible creature. “Red Claw,” Blue sang, in a weak voice that didn’t sound like his own.

  “So then, you do live, Blue Dawn Jay,” replied the Great Horned Owl. She lifted one sharp taloned foot and patted the top of Blue’s head gently. Her claws were yellow, as they were not stained red with blood at the moment.

  “Of course the jay lives,” said the male falcon. “We were instructed to keep it alive. A bit of a trick, that was, not killing prey. Odd feel to it, you know. Unnatural. Most unnatural. And not at all good for a bird's reputation.”

  “They squirmed as most prey do if not properly killed when struck, both of them,” complained the female. “It was all we could do to keep from eating them en route.”

  Blue eyed the falcon pair warily. Even in the dim light he could make out the distinctive patterns and coloring of their feathers and out of habit committed them to memory, along with nuances of their harsh song. As he knew hundreds of other types of birds, he now knew the peregrine falcon. And feared them. These birds preyed almost exclusively on other birds. “The creeper?” asked Blue, gaining more of his voice.

  “Lying close beside you,” said Red Claw. “In a tizzy, but apparently well enough physically. It won’t leave your side.”

  Blue felt something small and warm lying against his side. He twisted his head around a bit and confirmed that it was indeed the creeper stretched out beside him, staring wide-eyed at the huge owl that towered above them, and shivering in terror. Blue struggled to a standing position and assessed his own condition in the process. The leg that the falcon had held in her talons was throbbing in pain, but Blue could put weight on it, so at least it wasn’t broken. His shoulder was sore, but didn’t seem to be seriously injured. He wasn’t entirely sure yet about the rest of himself, but he doubted that the crow and grackle bites were too serious. Had the blackbird attack continued but a few seconds longer the story would have been different. He’d have to try it to be sure, but he suspected that he could even fly.

  The little creeper scooted to be squarely underneath him, and peeped in terror, but also seemed fit. It could have been worse, much worse. He turned to face the two falcons. “Thank you both for saving us,” he stated, switching to falcon common language. “I am Blue Dawn Jay of Song Wood. Who are you?”

  “Amusing. Prey asks who we are, love,” said the male.

  “Clever little thing. It even speaks tolerably well falcon for a food bird,” said the female, nodding in approval. “I am Swift Wing.”

  “And I am of course Mate to Swift Wing,” said her mate, who was named in the manner of male raptors.

  “You sang that Great Beak sent you?”

  “A reasonably accurate statement,” agreed the male. “We had reason to believe that Yellow Claw could not be trusted to be totally rational when it came to dealing with the invaders.”

  “And Great Beak apparently has reason to believe that it is important that you live,” added the female. “I myself am not fully convinced of that. I find it hard to believe that any number of blackbirds could stand any chance against us raptors. We rule the air. We have no need of song bird help.”

  “Help from prey birds is needed to protect us raptors, according to Great Beak,” said Mate to Swift Wing, cocking his head to better watch Red Claw’s reaction to such a strange statement.

  To everyone’s surprise the great owl slowly nodded in agreement. “And the songbirds need the raptors,” he added, switching the conversation back to Plain Song. “Great Beak is right. We will all need each other, I believe, before this is over.”

  “You astonish me, mighty Red Claw,” said Swift Wing. “Surely you can not doubt your own prowess. What possible threat could cowardly blackbirds be to you?”

  “The storm is past, and light of the twin orbs returns for a short time, falcons,” she replied. “Look to the ground outside my tree for what your small falcon eyes missed earlier in the near-darkness of the storm.”

  The falcons hopped to the hollow tree’s opening, now bright with evening sunlight, and looked outside. “Caw-caw-caw, yaw-yaw-yaw,” sang dozens of blackbirds from the surrounding trees, but the falcons hardly glanced at them. They primarily looked down, in wide-eyed disbelief. Curious, Blue poked his head out between the falcons and followed their gaze. Far below at the base of the great tree, heaps of twisted, broken black bodies lay. The sun glinted on some of the smaller bodies, causing them to show tinges of green and purple. These were grackles, while the larger bodies were crows. Other feathers of various colors lay scattered here and there, twisting in the wind, bloodied and broken. Some were blue jay feathers, Blue noticed with dismay.

  “They came at mid-morning, driving all songbirds before them,” sang the owl soberly. “The jays fought for every song bird and tree, but there were ten blackbirds and more for every one of them. I stood where you now stand, watching and trying to make sense of it, when they saw me and attacked.”

  “They dared to attack you in your own nesting place?” asked Swift Wing, incredulous.

  “Dozens of them. I crushed them and tore them apart, but still more came, singing the same nonsense song, over and over, as though they had gone mad.”

  “Their song of the New Order,” stated Blue.

  “To the south-east in the wetlands we too have heard that song,” said Mate to Swift Wing.

  “As has Great Beak, along the rivers near her range,” added Swift Wing.

  “Yes, the New Order," nodded Red Claw. That is what they sang of as they attacked me. But what does it mean? What do they want? Does even wise Great Beak know?”

  “Not entirely,” said Swift Wing. “At present she knows only for certain that they must be stopped. She suspects, however, that they mean to take over the World. The blackbirds are allied with the invaders, the Old Ones, and they destroy the Great Balance.”

  “The Old Ones have truly returned?” said Red Claw, voice only a hissing whisper, as though even the mighty owl feared to speak of such things aloud. “I heard rumors, but there are always some such stories. Birds sing nonsense as much as truth. More, perhaps.”

  “It is more than rumor,” said Blue. “This creeper calls them humans.” He sang the strange word in the strange language that the creeper had shown him. “They have a strange, slow, plain, primitive language that the grackles and crows have apparently mastered, if they are their allies. The creeper has learned the language and has taught much of
it to me. But he also sings of a human that befriended him against the blackbirds.”

  “Captain Jack is friend,” piped the creeper, from where he hid underneath Blue. “Captain Jack helps small birds flee from the blackbirds.”

  “Captain Jack is an Old One?” asked Red Claw, repeating the strange name, though poorly.

  “Is human,” sang the creeper. “Big crawler that walks on two legs, like a bird. Smaller set of front legs with claws used for picking up things. No wings, no feathers. They have many strange things they have made that they use to help them do many things. That be humans. Big clever crawlers. Brownie not know what is an Old One.”

  “Indeed,” said Mate to Swift Wing, clearly amused to be speaking with the tiny songbird. “Wisdom from tiny prey! How can any of us be sure what is or is not an Old One? Far too many seasons have occurred since their passing to know them well. We have ancient songs of Old Ones, but nothing more. I have seen these crawlers for myself from a safe distance, and know that they are different from birds, but very clever, and very dangerous. They kill for no reason. They match in some ways what is sung of the Old Ones, in other ways they may differ. Most noticeably they clear the land of forest, whereas the Old Ones are said to have created the forest. That would be a contradiction, would it not?”

  “OOOOO,” hooted Red Claw mournfully. "To destroy the forest is madness. What of the Scourge?”

  “The Scourge was real?” asked Blue. Giant crawlers that eat everything? He thought it was just an old story to scare nestlings into learning to fly and do their duties.

  “As real as the Old Ones themselves, song bird,” stated Swift Wing. “Whatever these strangers are, they destroy the Balance and are therefore evil. With the Balance destroyed, according to old songs, the Scourge will indeed return. Yet this prey bird sings of one of them that is a friend to songbirds and opposes blackbirds. Why would some ally themselves with blackbirds, and others with songbirds? Perhaps they have Freedom of Flight as do birds, though without flight? Are they as birds, with some that prey on certain creatures, as raptors prey on other birds, and some that do not? There is much we do not understand of them.”

  “We must know more about them,” said Red Claw. “There is strength gained from knowledge. What do the Old Ones and the blackbirds plan, and when?”

  “Two weeks,” piped up the creeper again.

  “Yes, two weeks,” repeated Blue. “That is what Black Heart sang. Some important thing is to happen in two weeks. At that time Yellow Claw is to be repaid by the blackbirds for our capture.”

  “What will happen?” demanded the owl.

  “He did not sing what will happen,” replied Blue.

  Red Claw shook her shaggy head. “Blackbirds have always kept their own council. But we must find out what we can, though I don’t know what we’ll be able to do about it. Two weeks is too soon.”

  Swift Wing nodded. “We raptors gather even now, heeding the call of our Talon Council, but the full gathering is not to be complete for several weeks. Of course, that gathering could be accelerated, given great enough cause.”

  "We should send word immediately to do so," said Red Claw. “Events are indeed accelerating. We might not have even two weeks.”

  “What of the Great Council of Songbirds?” asked Blue of Red Claw. “Black Heart sang that he destroyed it. What does it mean? Has there been news of survivors?”

  The great owl shook his head slowly. “I do not know what has become of your Council and those that sang in it. You were yourself to Song Wood, Blue, you may know more about the fate of the Council than do I. I know only that what Black Heart or any blackbird sings and what is true are not always the same thing. Blackbird is the most devious blackbird of them all. Always he squawks to gain his own advantage, not to enlighten others.”

  Blue cocked his head thoughtfully. "That the blackbirds have successfully attacked the Council I have seen for myself, but crows and even grackles are clumsy fliers compared with many songbirds. I am certain that many escaped. Not even the jays would all fight to the death, given hopeless odds and some chance to escape. Therefore it follows that survivors may be scattered throughout Song Wood thickets. Besides, birds sing. Word of the attack must be now spreading through the forest. Flocks of jays will counter attack soon, of that I am very certain."

  Blue hopped to the tree opening and peered at the surrounding trees. Blackbirds seemed to number as leaves on those trees, and still more were arriving. He could feel hundreds of their black eyes looking at him. There were too many, and they knew where he was. "The jays will not gather in time or in great enough numbers to help me and the small bird soon enough, and the blackbirds know we are here. They will attack today, perhaps when their own numbers are even greater."

  "They number too many already for my taste,” said Swift Wing. “Shall we do something about these impudent prey, my love?"

  "Kreeeeee," answered her mate, and before anything else could be sung both falcons launched themselves out of the owl den, racing towards the closest tree full of blackbirds. Dozens of crows and grackles took to the air in all directions, their screams and frantic wing flapping almost sounding as if the storm had returned. Blue saw the falcons begin to strike down blackbirds one at a time with their powerful talons and beaks, and for a few wondrous moments it appeared as though the entire Black Flock was in full retreat. Then almost as one the blackbirds turned and attacked; massive groups of birds so dense that their numbers could not be seen. "Kill, kill, kill!" they screamed. “For the New Order.”

  In seconds it was the falcons that were retreating as they dodged the noisy, charging mass of screaming blackbirds. The crows were slower and far more awkward than the falcons, but they were so numerous and potentially dangerous that the falcons needed to dodge their heavy bodies almost constantly. The grackles were an even greater threat because of their agility. The falcons tried to escape upwards but swirling black bodies blocked their path. Soon the two falcons were desperately fighting for their lives.

  "Stay here and guard the creeper," Blue told Red Claw impudently, as he too leapt from the den. In moments he was among them, striking deadly or crippling blows to one blackbird after another, screaming the fighting cries of the red hawk and of the jay, and breaking through to the falcons.

  As had happened when the falcons attacked, several blackbirds initially panicked and flew off squawking in alarm, and most of their flock-mates immediately followed them, leaving the falcons and Blue hovering together almost alone. Blue heard several of the panicked blackbirds sing of the Blue Death. "To the den!" Blue sang to the falcons, who seemed to be winded and disoriented, though they followed the retreat of their foes with angry flashing eyes.

  For a moment, the furious falcons seemed to consider attacking again rather than retreating, but they wisely turned and flew towards the owl den, followed by Blue, followed by a hundred blackbirds, who had quickly regrouped and were rapidly closing on the retreating trio. Two grackles blocked their retreat, but were struck down easily by the bloody talons of the angry falcons, as they dove into the owl den, followed by Blue. The trio landed on top of each other in a tumble but rose to their feet almost immediately, expecting a deluge of enemies to follow.

  None followed. In the opening to her den with her massive back to Blue and the falcons Red Claw stood, baring entry with talons, beak, and bulk. Outside, the blackbirds squawked, swarmed, and attacked. Around the heaving sides of Red Claw Blue caught glimpses of them, a black mass of fluttering wings, open beaks and angry eyes, as they hovered and awkwardly struck at the big owl.

  If instead they chose to withdraw and dive swiftly at the big raptor one or two at a time, their attack may have been much more effective. As it was, with her wings bracing her in the opening to her den, the owl was able to hold them back. She struck the screaming blackbirds down one by one with massive beak and claws, crushing skulls, tearing throats, and ripping wings. Blue could hear dozens of them chant about the New Order as they attacked
. He could also hear their death squawks, as they fell to the ground far below.

  Occasionally a crow or grackle head would poke its way past the owl, where it was quickly dispatched by one of the falcons or by Blue. Otherwise it was the owl that did all of the fighting, for it was the den of Red Claw that was being attacked.

  The carnage continued beyond all belief and reason. There seemed to be no end to the Black Flock, but at last as darkness fell the attack finally stopped. It was a battle-weary owl that at last turned to re-enter her den, covered from beak to talon in blackbird blood. “I will rest briefly and preen, then I will call my fellow owls and we will show them what owls can do at night,” squawked the owl, obviously much more angry than weary.

  As the great owl preened, Blue, Brownie, and the falcons, who where equally weary, preened also before seeking sleep. It was a fitful sleep. At one point Blue woke to sounds of fighting outside, and stumbled wearily to the den opening. Mate to Swift Wing stood guard silently, listening and watching, though the raptor's night vision was nearly as poor as Blue's. "What is happening?" Blue asked.

  "Raptor revenge, song bird, by the sound of it. The owls are busy tonight."

  Blue poked his head out of the den. The night was alive with intermittent fluttering of wings, hooting of owls, and screams of dying blackbirds. Blue occasionally glimpsed dark shapes flying about, but couldn't tell if it was Owls or their prey that he saw.

  "Away from the opening, blue one, lest you be mistaken for the enemy," advised Mate to Swift Wing after a short time. "Sleep well, little blue warrior, for we guard the den. There are blackbirds attempting to fly at night, so desperately do they seek sanctuary from our cousins the owls. The only sanctuary they will find here is swift death."

  It was blackbird wings that could be heard, Blue realized, as owls in flight were silent. The owls could both hear and see their prey, while the blackbirds could only blindly flee. The jay at last withdrew and returned to lie next to the creeper and gain rest, but could not sleep deeply.

  At early dawn Red Claw returned carrying a big crow carcass, which she began to tear up and devour in huge chunks. "Wake and eat, birds," she commanded, between bites. The falcons quickly joined in the meal, while Blue and Brownie watched on, hoping that these raptors wouldn’t get carried away with blood lust and eat them too. In a short time almost nothing remained of the crow. Using one set of massive claws to gather remains, and the other to hop to the den opening, Red Claw tossed the pile of bloody bones and feathers out of her den and again addressed her guests. “We killed many hundreds of blackbirds, but there are thousands more. They are scattered now, but they will soon regroup and return for you, Blue. If any of you plan to leave here you should do so now. What do all of you plan to do?”

  “A very interesting question indeed,” said Swift Wing. “We were to see that the Blue one reached his Council safely, but now it appears that the Council is no more.”

  “A most distressing loss of tasty prey birds,” commented Mate to Swift Wing. “An appalling waste of feathered food.”

  “And a distressing disruption of the Great Balance, that is sure,” said Red Claw. “The Great Council and all its members may be lost.”

  “Strike True lives,” stated Blue.

  “How do you know that?” asked Red Claw.

  Blue wasn’t sure how; but he knew that it was true. “I will find him. I must find him. If any jay can organize the songbirds against the Black Flock it is him. The raptors and songbirds must cooperate in whatever will come.”

  Red Claw shook his great head. “Agreed. However, if the Black Flock is allied with the Old Ones, raptors and song birds together may not prove enough to defeat them.”

  Blue shrugged. “I know that Dark Heart is my enemy, I am not yet so sure of these Old Ones. In the oldest songs the Old Ones and birds were allies against the Scourge, before the Final Battle. Song Flame said that these Old Ones are clever. Perhaps they can be reasoned with.”

  “Captain Jack be song bird friend,” stated the creeper meekly.

  “Crawlers as friends?” squawked Swift Wing. “Impossible.”

  “Allies need not be friends,” said Blue, glancing from raptor to raptor pointedly, "but total strangers can never be even allies. I will suggest to the Council that the Old Ones be sought out. We should try using song before using claw and beak.”

  “That has been attempted several times by raptors,” said Swift Wing. “The Old Ones killed raptors that approached them for discussions, using strange powers."

  "The Old Ones are small and weak, but carry strange fire-sticks which they use to kill without honor any raptor they see," said Mate to Swift Wing, his head bobbing in agreement. "The strange sticks kill at a distance. Some make a loud noise and throw tiny pebbles hard enough to puncture the body and even break bones. Other sticks they carry make a bright light like lightning that burns holes through birds at even greater distances."

  "They fly in strange noisy dens," continued Swift Wing. "The dens are not alive, yet they have great powers. Some fly without old ones within them. How such things are possible is not understood by any bird. Some nests are huge and have wings and move higher and swifter than even the falcon. They can kill with these also, even the great eagle."

  "They fly these much less often now, as even their great flying dens can be destroyed by a strong, clever raptor," said Mate to Swift Wing, “though often at the price of their own life.”

  "All very interesting and disturbing," said Red Claw. "At least now that Great Beak leads the Talon Council, song about these matters is at last being heard. When Yellow Claw led the Talon Council, there was more silence than song. But such song must wait, for you must leave soon."

  "I will today search within the thickets for the Great Council and Strike True," said Blue. "It is a job ill-suited for great-winged falcons."

  Swift Wing nodded in agreement. "Yet we must return word from your council to ours, if yours exists and can be found. I propose that we falcons fly high above Song Wood with falcon eyes, to learn what we may, and return here to roost in this den at dusk this night and tomorrow night, awaiting word from you of your Council. We will doubtless encounter other falcons. Thus we can send word also to Great Beak to further accelerate the gathering of raptors, for it is clear that war has already begun."

  "That is agreed," said Red Claw. "Blue, tell your Council that songbirds must also gather. We must coordinate an attack on the Black Flock, but where and when will require more information, and a council of war between raptors and songbirds to work out details."

  "More important than details at this stage, you must give us some word from your Great Council of their support," continued Swift Wing.

  "I will return here with word from the Council, if I am able," agreed Blue.

  "If you do not return by the second night, we will still take word of what has happened to the Talon Council," said Swift Wing. "If you return later with word of the Great Council, they can at least begin planning with Red Claw."

  "I will leave at once," said Blue.

  "And what of the creeper?" asked Red Claw. "Will the tiny one stay with me?"

  Blue eyed the little brown bird, which had crouched trembling underneath him the whole time. "No, he can go with me, assuming he can fly. In the thickets he will not slow me down. Besides, I have noticed that he is a little nervous around raptors."

  The great owl squawked with laughter. "Fly free, Blue Dawn Jay," she said solemnly, nodding towards the den exit.

  "Fly free, prey birds," echoed Swift Wing and Mate to Swift Wing.

  Blue nodded at the raptors, then dropped quietly from the owl's den to fly from the area at nearly ground level. As he expected, Brownie followed him competently, and they were soon deep in the forest. They flew slowly and cautiously, staying under cover of leaf as much as possible. Nearby thickets were avoided, as it possible that they harbored hiding or convalescing blackbirds.

  In open patches of forest they saw that the grou
nd was littered grotesquely with scores of dead blackbirds and songbirds, their bodies already being eaten by marching armies and winged swarms of unimpeded crawlers. The relative silence was as terrible; no songbirds sang, only flying crawlers buzzed among the dead, and the only birds they heard were crows and grackles overhead, moving back to re-establish themselves as the greatly outnumbered owls retreated to their dens.

  When they were nearly halfway to Council Tree, the crows and grackles were becoming too numerous and bold for them to continue flying. Blue led the creeper to heavy thickets near home-nesting grounds that he was very familiar with.

  As he expected, under the heavy cover of dense tangled growth, several tired, beat-up looking songbirds huddled wearily within the thicket, resting. None were jays. Seeing immediately that he and the creeper were not blackbirds, the tired birds ignored them. Blue recognized the red bellied woodpecker; years ago they had frolicked together as nestlings. Blue hopped close to the bird, who continued to ignore him. "What news, Thunk?"

  The woodpecker lifted his head slowly and looked more carefully at the newcomers. “Blue? Blue Dawn Jay? It is you!” She hopped over to him and affectionately butted the side of his head with the side of hers. Most birds affectionately pecked each other’s heads with their bills, but not woodpeckers – that would be much too dangerous a habit for them. “I heard that you were gone far away on a quest.”

  “I’m still on a quest, or perhaps we all are. Have you seen any of the Council? Or any jays?”

  “No. Not since the blackbirds attacked yesterday. What is happening? Have they all gone mad?”

  “Worse. The blackbirds have gone to war and threaten the Great Balance. You say you have seen no jays since yesterday?”

  “The blackbirds seemed to be focusing on them. Jays told us to hide here, then they returned to the battle. They did not return to us. We fear that they have all been killed.”

  A black-capped chickadee hopped closer to the singing pair. “Happy to see a jay. I was at the Council Tree when the blackbird attack came. Council was in session. I saw the Council and the jay flock-fight the blackbirds, then flee. There were too many blackbirds, far too many.”

  “Too many, too many,” echoed several other birds with quiet voices, nodding wearily.

  “Do you know where the Council went?”

  “No. Possibly some went with the jays. Some died, for sure. They are probably hiding in no one place. We scattered, we all did, and soon did not see others.”

  “I must find jays. Where are they?”

  “Don’t know, sorry,” sang the Chickadee. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, echoed the others.”

  The birds shook their heads sadly and returned to their napping. This was the usual bird response to trouble: to find a safe place to rest quietly, and stay there until the trouble passed. Rest until the storm is over. Hide until the predators are gone. Wait for spring. Blue wished that he could do the same.

  From above, the harsh cries of the blackbirds grew closer.

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