On Eagles' Wings

Post date: Oct 17, 2012 9:16:19 PM

This story, by Julia Belyung, won Third Place in the 2011-2012 Maple Leaf Book Competition.

On Eagles’ Wings

by Julia Belyung

Introduction

The lake sparkled under the rising autumn sun. A slight chill was just

starting to creep into the air, and golden leaves were fluttering down, pushed

by gentle gusts of wind. A songbird’s cry heralded a perfect fall day.

Waterbirds floated peacefully in the water, side-by-side with turtles and lily

pads. Silver fish scales glittered among light green duckweed in the shady

shallows. A solitary beaver waddled, dripping, onto the bank. Frogs’ heads

cautiously peeped out of the water and surveyed the scene.

The innocent cry of the lark was rudely interrupted by a loud whirring

noise. The smooth surface of the lake was broken, the silence shattered.

The beaver looked wildly about and desperately jumped in the water. The

waterbirds, startled, flew noisily. The frogs’ heads vanished. A strange rain

dropped onto the lake and chased the source of the noise - a huge,

unidentifiable, shiny bird.

In a few minutes, the bird had passed taking the rain with it.

In a few days, the frogs’ pale bellies bobbed up and down with the

lapping of the lake in the shady shallows. They were soon joined by the

glittering cadavers of fish.

In a week, the lake was silent, save for the buzzing of Carrion flies.

Chapter One: The Sighting

Raclaw had just alighted on the broken snag when a moving glint

caught his eye. He abruptly turned his head, startled. Not many creatures

were brave enough to venture openly out in the woods. He decided to take a

closer look. Unruffling his wings, he prepared himself.

That was when he saw it. Rearing its great bulk against the sunlit sky,

a giant glittering creature with huge silver wings swooped silently far in the

distance along the plain. No, not silently. As the terrifying apparition

advanced, with it came a hum, which gradually increased to a roar that

shook the branch beneath Raclaw’s talons. His natural instincts overcame

his curiosity, and he flew away.

Wheeling low, he tried somehow to protect his eardrums with his

wings, but this proved impossible. Raclaw had no choice but to return to the

nest as quickly as possible and hoped that he would escape the crazy bee

noise. After ten minutes of frantic swooping, he returned, but not before he

had almost gone insane with the droning.

He swooped into the aerie, a huge nest built out of branches and twigs

balanced on a giant, gnarled ancient oak. It was one of many such nests,

built by countless generations of eagles throughout the area. The branches

of the tree had been cleverly entwined with twigs and sticks. But this one

was different, because it hosted not just one but several eagle families.

A flurry of feathers catapulted out of an overhang, almost

cannonballing into Raclaw. For an old eagle, the erupting eagle leader had a

surprising amount of energy. He lifted his head and stared at Raclaw,

surprised.

“What ruffled your feathers?” asked Sharpclaw.

Chapter Two: Investigating and Insulting

Raclaw stared at Sharpclaw, momentarily lost in thought. Sharpclaw

was an old, bedraggled eagle. His feathers were matted and he didn't smell

good, but everyone respected him anyway. After all, he was leader of the

convocation.

Raclaw let everything spill out- the creature, the noise- and backed out

of the aerie just in time to escape being peppered with questions by a group

of juveniles. Swooping towards the lake, he focused his eyes on a glint in the

water and began to hunt.

But in his concentration, he failed to notice a light, snowlike

substance coating the surface of the water.

Something perilous had come to Sunset Lake.

When Raclaw returned to camp, laden with an odd-smelling sunfish

and two trout, Sharpclaw was finishing up a speech. “And that is why I am

going to investigate the creature our deputy Raclaw discovered.”

Immediately, the convocation’s attention turned to Raclaw. Thanks a

lot, he thought despairingly. Just when I wanted some peace and quiet.

Sheesh. He fluffed his feathers and tried to appear dignified, but instead was

horrified when his stomach let out a huge rumble. Great. Just great.

In the audience, someone cackled. Loudly.

Before Raclaw could find the rude eagle who had laughed at him,

however, Sharpclaw had swooped from the nest. Eagles began attacking

Raclaw with questions. “Was it scary?” “What did it look like?” “What did you

do?”

“He probably flew, like the coward he is,” sneered a dark-feathered

eagle, pecking his way through the crowd.

Raclaw bristled. “You’re just jealous that I’m deputy and you’re not,

Brokentalon,” he sneered back while staring at the other eagle’s imposing

figure without flinching.

Chapter Three: The Fight

Brokentalon was an orphan whom the convocation had rescued from a

forest fire with his sister. Brokentalon had survived. His sister hadn’t.

“You know that I’d make a better leader than you,” Brokentalon hissed.

The two eagles were now circling each other while the crowd watched,

silent and eager. “I’m braver and stronger.”

“I prefer not to stain my talons with blood,” snarled Raclaw.

“That’s because you’re a coward. Unlike me!” Brokentalon hissed

spitefully. “Sharpclaw is an idiot,” he muttered under his breath. “I should be

leading this pack!”

Raclaw didn’t care if Brokentalon insulted him, but to insult his father

was out of the question.

“MY FATHER IS NOT AN IDIOT!” he screeched, and flung himself into

the air, challenging Brokentalon. Brokentalon responded by flying up and

digging his thorn-sharp talons into Raclaw’s right shoulder. The two eagles

tumbled and bit each other desperately, each trying to find the weak point of

the other. Brokentalon had the advantage of size and strength, but Raclaw

had indignation on his side.

They fell onto the ground and rolled around in the dirt, but were

interrupted by a cry from the sentry, who was guarding the aerie.

”Sharpclaw’s back! SHARPCLAW’S BACK!”

Chapter Four: Something Strange

Brokentalon picked himself up and, hurriedly grooming himself,

sneered viciously at Raclaw one last time before turning away. “I’m not done

with you!” he snarled, disrespectfully brushing dust onto Raclaw with his

wingtip.

Raclaw got up and fluffed up his dusty plumage, and it occurred to him

that he should groom himself. But before he could, Sharpclaw swooped in

with a whoosh. As the convocation crowded around Sharpclaw, Raclaw

caught a glimpse of his father. He looked tired and hungry... and wet? It

hadn't been raining; the sky was clearer than ever with only an occasional

cloud breaking the brilliant blue.

Nudging his way through the crowded convocation, he came face to

face with his father. He immediately realized that something was wrong.

“Father? What happened?”

A strange scent wafted from Sharpclaw. “The creature... spraying

rain... all... over... must... go.... ....uhhhh.... (cough).” Those were the last

words Raclaw’s father ever spoke, because at that moment, Sharpclaw, the

beloved, proud leader of the convocation, sneezed, fell out of the aerie,

spasmed for a minute, and stopped breathing.

Chapter Five: Moving

A ripple of shock spread through the convocation like a wave of doom.

Their beloved leader, dead?! It didn’t seem possible.

“What are we going to do now?” asked a shaken old eagle with ruffled

headfeathers.

At that moment, a young eagle popped his head around the entrance.

“The fish are all-“

He saw Sharpclaw’s body and gaped.

“What about the fish?” asked Raclaw, worried. “All we eat is fish.“

“They’re all dead and they smell weird. What happened to Sharpclaw?”

replied the fledgling.

Raclaw grabbed his catch and sniffed it frantically. The eagle was

telling the truth. The fish did smell odd, even the trout. Wait. Where have I

smelled that before?

He rushed to his dead father and inhaled deeply. Looking up, he

announced,”Sharpclaw and the fish were both killed by the same thing.”

The crowd gasped.

“If all the fish have been killed by the same thing Sharpclaw has,” Raclaw

continued, “then we cannot eat the fish. We have to move.”

Murmurs of reluctant agreement were heard. “But when? And where?”

asked a juvenile.

“Now,” said Raclaw. “I don’t want anyone else dying. And we’ll follow

the river that runs into the lake.”

Chapter Six: Coyotes

“Are you ready?” called Raclaw over his shoulder to the convocation.

“Ready!” they replied.

“Then let’s go!” He swooped out of the aerie and headed towards the

lake.

When the convocation got to the lake, Raclaw told them to roost in a

tree awhile. He swooped down and landed on a small tree. A grisly scene

met his eyes.

Bodies of fish, frogs, and turtles floated on the surface of the lake. The

whole place smelled of death. It was still except for the buzzing of beetles

and flies. Raclaw shuddered and flew back to the convocation. ”Let’s keep

going.”

By noon, they were out of the forest and on the scrubland. Raclaw

didn’t like the flatlands; there were no trees to swoop down to and take

shelter from the sun. Pretty soon, the elders and chicks succumbed to the

sweltering heat. “I can’t fly,” rasped one.

Raclaw searched the area, but no trees could be found. “We’ll have to

roost in the bushes,” he said, angling with his chin towards one of the

shrubs. “It isn’t much, but it’ll have to do.”

They settled into a large, leafy bush. Just when Raclaw was about to

doze off, he was awakened by a juvenile tugging at his wing. “Umm,

Raclaw?”

“Yes?” he said groggily.

“Well, you didn’t post watchers. And I’m hungry.”

“Sorry,” sighed Raclaw. “No food.”

Sheepishly stretching his wings, he silently scolded himself. I should

have known to post a sentry! I shouldn’t have to be reminded by some

juvenile!

He peered out of the bush. It was early evening now, and the shrubs

were already casting long purple shadows on the plain. But Raclaw’s eagle

vision could see a distant shadow in the brush. Something was slinking

towards them!

“We’re being attacked!”

Immediately, the convocation was on its talons and ready to fight. But

their hearts sank when they saw that the invaders were coyotes. No eagle

had ever been known to fight a coyote before.

“Retreat!” called Raclaw, and all the eagles swooped into the dimming

sky- all but one. Raclaw looked down and saw a frightened face in the brush.

A juvenile eagle was still down there!

But if I try to save it, I might die, too...

Chapter Seven: Betrayal

Raclaw shook off any fears he might have and wheeled towards the

bush. “GO AWAY!” he screeched at the coyotes, to get their attention away

from the juvenile. Surprisingly, they backed off and slunk away into the night.

Confused but not wanting to sit there and gape, Raclaw hurried into the

bush. “Get on my back,” he commanded the shocked juvenile.

Reassured by the presence of an adult, the juvenile did his bidding.

Raclaw swooped up to find Brokentalon saying to the convocation,

“And that is how Raclaw proved he was a liar and a coward.”

Raclaw stared icily at him as the convocation turned towards him with

hostile eyes.

“Brokentalon just told us that you are a liar and a coward. Is that true?”

asked a fighter.

The juvenile had gotten over its scare. “He most certainly is not. He

just told the coyotes to go away, and they did!”

“As you just heard, I am not a coward, Brokentalon.” hissed Raclaw

spitefully.

“Doesn’t matter now. I’ve got the pack on my side now. As leader, I

banish you!” sneered Brokentalon triumphantly.

“Let the convocation decide who it wants to be leader,” said Raclaw.

“We agree with the juvenile. Raclaw is leader!” voiced the convocation.

“Brokentalon,” said Raclaw regally, “you are now exiled from the

convocation.”

Brokentalon tried one last tactic. “Did you hear that, eagles?” he called,

trying to appear nonchalant. “This coward thinks he can do whatever he

wants with me.”

“And he can!” squealed the juvenile. “As far as I know, he can do

whatever he wants!”

If eagles could blush, Raclaw would look like a feathered apple. No-

one had ever given him a compliment before.

“No, he’s not. He’s a coward and a liar.” Brokentalon scowled.

Winging away, he muttered, “But I’ll be back!”

Chapter Eight: A Man, a Traitor, and Coyotes

When Raclaw woke up, he felt like a whole new bird. The sun was

shining, he had cooled off considerably, and the air was sweet with the

sound of birdsong and the smell of honeysuckle.

Then he heard it- a crashing, thumping sound. At first, he thought he

was imagining it. But then it came closer. Steady, heavy thumps.

All of a sudden, a face burst out of the trees. At least, it resembled a

face. It was pudgy and pink and dripping, and the lower half of it was

covered in something that looked like fur. Its body was wrapped in bright,

shiny stuff. Instead of wings it had two stalks, like mice; and in one of the

stalks it carried a glittery stick with a glob on one end made out of the same

material as the shiny bird. It started to hack a nearby tree with this strange

contraption.

When it saw Raclaw, it grumbled and made displeased noises that

sounded like, ”Confounded bird.” But the creature left him alone.

Then it saw the convocation. It gasped in astonishment and seemed to go

through a period of thinking...When a large feathered bird flew out of the

shadows, knocking into Raclaw and pushing the breath out of him.

“Coyotes, ATTACK!!” it cried.

Raclaw instantly recognized the other birds’ face. It had a harsh beak

and a smirk. It was Brokentalon’s face.

“Now who’s leader?” taunted Brokentalon triumphantly. “This

convocation never appreciated my fine skills. So now it will die!”

Raclaw struggled, but Brokentalon’s grip was too strong. His neck was

being torn out, pouring blood...and now he was falling into a velvet black

pool of darkness. Is this what it means to die? Then he was floating, rushing

towards the surface. He opened his eyes and saw the juvenile that he had

rescued fighting Brokentalon!

The exiled eagle fought fiercely, but nothing could describe the

juvenile’s wrath. Weaving, ducking, nipping, the eagles were completely

unaware of their surroundings.

Then Raclaw saw furry shadows on the ground. Coyotes!

They were snapping at the eagles, distracting them so that

Brokentalon could easily kill the convocation.

But why was there blood?

Raclaw looked at the ground again. The creature that had looked

astonished when it saw the convocation was chopping away at the coyotes

with his lumpy contraption!

His gaze ventured to the fight again. Brokentalon was panting heavily.

He had long scratches down one wing and would never be able to fly

properly again. But the juvenile was in good shape.

Finally, Brokentalon gave up. “You win. I surrender.”

In response, the juvenile pushed him off the branch.

The coyotes were also in bad shape. They had cowered away from the

creature in fur and were now whimpering in the bushes. They didn’t look

happy to see Brokentalon. Raclaw guessed that he had tricked them into

following him here.

“We have to go back to camp,” rasped Brokentalon. “Carry me, Red.”

He gestured to a strong-looking coyote.

Instead, the coyote hissed. “You made us suffer for your petty revenge.

You said that we would eat all we want, and guess what? No food! Except..”

She licked her chops and stared hungrily at Brokentalon. ”Except you.”

With that, the coyotes leapt onto Brokentalon. There was silence

except for the tearing of meat and the cracking of bones. When they were

finished, the coyotes leapt silently into the night, leaving behind the pitiful

bones of Raclaw’s enemy- or, what was left of him.

Chapter Nine: Pesticides?

Stunned, the juvenile stared at Brokentalon’s bones. He didn’t notice

Raclaw softly walking over to him.

“Thank you,” said Raclaw quietly.

They looked at the ground.

The silence was broken by the creature with fur swearing, “Them

@#$*!:( coyotes!”

When Raclaw came back to the aerie, there was a pile of fish waiting

for him.

“Just for you.” said Rara. “I found a lake with the juiciest trout ever!”

“Yum,” said Raclaw around a mouthful of it.

That night, the convocation was rested, fed, and warm. Raclaw got up

early to see if the creature in fur would come.

The creature did come back. He told the eagles,”I was readin’ in the

paper this morn, y’see, an’ it said some ‘bout yer bein’ threatened by a

poison, like rain from plow planes. Well, it said that youse is dyin’ o’

pesticides, an’ so on. So now I gotta ditch this ol’ can.”

He raised a rusty container. “Jus’ thought ya should know.”

THE END

Epilogue

This book is based on the time when pesticides, such as DDT,

heptachlor, dieldrin, endrin, and aldrin were becoming widely used. Planes

would spray the farmlands and, in some cases, the flatlands with these

pesticides, causing the wilderness to become horrifically contaminated with

man-made poisons. Crop-dusting pilots would often neglect to turn off their

sprayer over a lake or stream; and so the poison ran down to the sea.

The perilous thing about these chemicals was that DDT actually

penetrates the cell’s protective layer of protein, leaving the door into the

nucleus wide open for other chemicals to get inside and mess up the cell.

But DDT doesn’t just kill insects; it also kills fish, mammals, humans,

birds, and amphibians alike. When DDT was sprayed in the lakes, the fish

would die; and then eagles would eat the fish, and so on.

Rachel Carson realized this, and it prompted her to write Silent

Spring in 1962, eventually triggering the ban of most DDT in the United

States in 1972.