Black Feathers: Dark Avian Tales: An Anthology(55)

“What’s carrion?” He was nine or ten, tall and skinny. His arms and legs were red from the sun.

“Dead animals. Rabbits, sheep, other birds.”

“They eat dead animals?”

“Sure.”

“Why?”

“They have to eat and something dead is food to them.”

Blyth hopped closer and cried out, startling the boy who took a couple of steps back. “Don’t mind Blyth,” I said. “He’s just curious.”

The boy stared at Blyth. “How do you know that?”

“Blyth and I, we’re friends.”

A voice called out. Blyth flew off. A man waved to the boy from thirty yards away. “It’s my dad,” the boy said.

I nodded. “Okay.” I watched as he walked towards his father. The man spoke to the boy. I stood up and put the kite into the rucksack. The man came over. He stared at me, his eyes squinting in the afternoon sun.

“That was my boy you were taking to,” he said.

“Yes?”

“What business did you have with him?”

“We were just talking.”

“About what?”

“Birds.”

“Birds?” He stepped closer. “Well, how about you stay the fuck away from my boy? You think you could do that for me?”

I wondered how a corvid would react. How they perceived anger or fear. Did they understand what it was to be irrational? Did they even have a concept for reason? “I’m sorry,” I said, after a while. “I meant no harm.”

The man nodded and walked away.

Ten minutes later I reached the high ground east of the lake. I stopped to look back and saw the children playing in the water. Blyth flew above them. He banked to the right and dropped towards the ground north of the lake. Something caught my eye. I saw a man crouched behind a rock. He was looking out over the lake and when I followed his line of sight, I saw that he was watching the kids. When I looked back, he seemed to be staring right at the spot where I stood. A second later he had slipped out of sight behind the rock.


I examined the red baseball cap. It had a cartoon dinosaur on the front. The day I found it I’d almost burned it. Instead, I hid it in a drawer in my bedroom. It was a sign from Blyth, I believed. I’d asked for help and he’d given me this sign.

So it was that two weeks after the boy disappeared, I set out to cycle the six miles to Trecastle. I’d never learned to drive, much less owned a car. It never seemed necessary. The caravan park, I discovered after enquiring at the post office, was a mile northwest of the village.

Once there I was at a loss. I hadn’t given much thought as to what I’d do or who I’d speak to. I bought a tea from the café in the reception building and took it outside to a bench. I watched cars come and go, families setting out for the reservoir or the Black Mountain. More people left on bikes or on foot. Two girls approached the bench. One of them, a red-haired girl, stood looking up at me. “You’re the man with the bird,” she said.

I recognized her as one of the kids I’d met in Glasfynydd. I looked around for her parents.

“Is the bird here?”

“I don’t think you should talk to me.”

“Why not?”

Her friend laughed and said, “I knew it. I knew you made it up.”

“Made what up?” I asked.

The red-haired girl pointed at her friend. “She thinks I lied about the bird.”

I sipped my tea. “You mean Blyth. He’s around here somewhere. I expect he’s minding his business.”

“What business?” the other girl said.

“Bird business.”

“Does he do tricks?”

“When he has a mind to.”

“Call him,” the red-haired girl said.

I was about to call Blyth when a woman came out of the building. “Come here now, Ellie. You too, Lizzie. Stop bothering the man.”

I told her they weren’t bothering me. “We’re just talking.”

“Well, they’re not allowed to talk to strangers,” she said, agitated. “Not after what happened to that boy.”

“It’s okay, we’re not exactly strangers. Isn’t that right?”

Before the girl could respond, a man approached. “What’s going on?”

“He’s got a bird does tricks,” the girl said.

“Who are you?” the man said.

“He was talking to the girls,” the woman said. She made it seem like an accusation. The man glared at me. Another couple emerged from the building and stood watching us. The woman said, “He says they’re not strangers.”

“We met before, her and some others, in the forest a while back. We talked, that was all.”

“He had birds,” the girl said. “Two were dead and another one danced and did tricks.”

The other couple pressed forward. “What’s that?” the second woman wanted to know.

“He makes birds do tricks for kids,” the first man said.

“Are you staying at this site?” the second man said. “You know these kids?”

I shook my head and scratched my stomach. I felt tense and agitated, wondering if I should tell them about the red baseball cap.