FLY FOR YOUR LIFE
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An Incredible Journey for birds, FLY FOR YOUR LIFE (MG Fiction, 26,675 words) features two improbable friends, an introverted heron and a bold, full-of-herself fish hawk, risking their lives on the dangerous migration down the Atlantic Flyway. The tale dramatizes our nation’s worst wildlife disgrace, in which millions of birds die against the lit-up skyscrapers each year.
FLY is played out in real-world locations from Pulpit Harbor (on North Haven Island, Maine) to Crooked Island in the Bahamas. The background of scientifically accurate geography, meteorology, astronomy, ornithology, and biology includes the latest research on how birds navigate using landmarks, constellations, wind currents, and the earth’s magnetic field. This true-life material takes the reader deep inside the real world of birds, just as Watership Down does with rabbits.
Heron and hawk encounter a hurricane, several predators, a blizzard, and the hypnotic lights of New York City’s buildings, against which they watch flocks of birds lose their lives. Happily, the pair also enjoy glorious nights flying under the great bird constellations—Cygnus the Swan, Aquila the Eagle, and other glittering “star sisters.” Along the way, each bird learns to step up for the one she cares about.
FLY is played out in real-world locations from Pulpit Harbor (on North Haven Island, Maine) to Crooked Island in the Bahamas. The background of scientifically accurate geography, meteorology, astronomy, ornithology, and biology includes the latest research on how birds navigate using landmarks, constellations, wind currents, and the earth’s magnetic field. This true-life material takes the reader deep inside the real world of birds, just as Watership Down does with rabbits.
Heron and hawk encounter a hurricane, several predators, a blizzard, and the hypnotic lights of New York City’s buildings, against which they watch flocks of birds lose their lives. Happily, the pair also enjoy glorious nights flying under the great bird constellations—Cygnus the Swan, Aquila the Eagle, and other glittering “star sisters.” Along the way, each bird learns to step up for the one she cares about.
Chapter One: "Hurricane Coming!"
High over Pulpit Harbor, Stretch the osprey fought to keep the fish in her talons from the bald eagle who was trying to rip it away. Huge, dark, shrieking, he outweighed and outwinged her.
Back and forth, twisting and plunging, closing her wings around herself, the fish hawk fought to keep her prize away. But the eagle dropped on her every time, batting her with his huge pinions to make her drop it. Raking her with his big yellow claws, again and again he attacked, blinding and deafening the osprey. Stretch was breathless from the blows. But she wouldn’t give up the fish. She hadn’t caught one in three days. She was dizzy from hunger.
“Queen of the Sky,” Stretch liked to call herself, but she didn't feel like that now. With her black and white mask and sharp, broad wings, she looked plenty grand and scary, but this eagle wasn’t scared.
Wham! This time she caught a claw in her left shoulder.
She shrieked with pain. It spasmed. She couldn’t hold on.
The fish spiraled down, down, down below both of them, striking the water like a rock, sinking forever out of sight.
The eagle wheeled away.
Sore, bleeding, Stretch glided down the quiet harbor. Usually it was the safest place on earth. And it was a lovely September morning on the island of North Haven, Maine. The sky was blue, the sun radiant. Yachts and fishing boats sat still as paintings at moorings. The harbor was a natural circle, so protected. Spruce trees grew to the shore forming a green wall. There was only one narrow entrance, with Pulpit Rock, craggy and steep, right in the middle, a natural guardian. Storms rarely got in.
Of course, in the wild world of creatures, nothing was ever certain. It was life and death every moment. Everyone had predators. Nights could be scary. Often you couldn’t find food. Once you got out of the nest or den, there was no one to watch out for you--except you. You got used to it, but life was never really easy or comfortable.
Below, Stretch glimpsed Blink the Great Blue Heron standing calmly at the water’s edge, staring into it. She was blue and black, with a long yellow bill, long neck, and even longer legs. That’s the life, thought Stretch. Just stand around while your meal swims right up to you, then reach out and spear it, no problem. He never saw Blink fighting an eagle.
As Stretch’s shadow passed over, Blink looked up with envy. She’d been waiting hours for that silver flash that meant dinner. She hadn’t eaten in four days. How she’d love to be able to just glide anywhere she wanted, like Stretch, until she saw a fish, then just drop down and grab it up. You could go anywhere the fish were. You never had to wait. That was the life.
Suddenly both were interrupted by Squawk the Laughing Gull, zigzagging down Pulpit Harbor, shrieking a warning so loud everyone could hear it. “Hurricane coming! Hurricane coming!” She was a fluffy, pudgy little white bird, usually cheerful. Now she was terrified.
No one paid attention. The gulls on the town dock gossiping didn't even look up.
Squawk was always screeching about something.
Also, no one was scared of storms. They blew over, not into, Pulpit Harbor. The harbor was so sheltered, all kinds of creatures lived around it, not only birds like Blink and Stretch and Bounce but also rabbits, deer, foxes, raccoons…. People who fished for a living moored their boats here. Summer visitors anchored yachts.
No, no one paid attention to Squawk’s warning, a big mistake.
This storm was different. Out in the bay, Squawk had seen the angry rain clouds building and boiling all morning. Now suddenly the sky went dark, like the sun just shut off. The wind came up with the speed of a line squall. The air grew cold as November. Lightning unzipped the midnight-black clouds over the bay. Giant boulders of thunder rolled in over Pulpit Rock. The wind whipped line after line of waves into crazy wolves, racing into the harbor, attacking the shore. Rain fell from the sky, its hard, stinging drops piercing the water like millions of nails. Gusts attacking the spruce trees twisted their branches into whips. The moored boats reared like horses. One broke loose. Another swamped and sank.
Now everyone—including the gulls on the town dock—paid attention.
Even Bounce the black duck, bobbing quietly, woke up.
But they were all too late to escape.
A big wave knocked Blink straight back, almost off her feet.
Overhead, gusts punched Stretch one way, then the other, wrenching her wounded wing back and forth. Suddenly She couldn’t fly, not this way, not that.
“Hey!” Blink cried, as if someone could hear or care. “Stop it!”
Bounce cried, “No, no! More!'' She rose on a crest, flapped her wings. “Isn't this cool?”
“No, it's not!”
Bounce disappeared down a trough, popped back up. “What a ride! This never happens here!”
Blink staggered up the bank, the waves chasing her.
Overhead, Stretch fought just to stay aloft. Large for her age, she weighed four pounds. She was strong. But these gusts struck like hammers. “Queen of the Sky?”
As the thunder crashed, the bows of the fishing boats plunged out of sight in the surging waves. The masts of the sailboats flailed in sickly arcs.
Blink staggered up to a tall spruce, ducking under its branches. A Great Blue Heron by birth, despite the name she was small in body, just three and a half pounds.
With a loud crack, a dead branch high in the tree snapped off, tumbling all the way to the ground. This was a real storm, Blink thought.
With a huge effort Stretch turned towards home, her nest on Pulpit Rock at the harbor’s entrance.
Squawk blew by again. “Look! Our own personal tornado!”
“What?” cried Stretch.
Then she saw what he meant. A spinning, giant hornet’s nest of rain and wind raced down the harbor towards them, sucking the foam right off the tops of the waves and flattening and blackening the water behind it. Howling…no, screeching…like some midnight monster….
Blink just stared. Until it flung her against the tree trunk.
Snatching up Stretch, it pasted her into the top of the nearest spruce as if she were a chip of wood. Her bad shoulder snagged on a branch, wrenching it again. Stretch almost passed out. She tried to stand but only one wing worked. Then the treetop, thrashing back and forth, hurled her out. Unable to fly, she fell, down, down, down through the branches.
“Hey, Blink!” Bounce was shouting now. “Don't you just love hurricanes?”
“Are you crazy?”
“The waves are fantastic. Up and down, up and down. What fun! Coming out?”
“I like calm,” called Blink.
For Stretch, the bad news was, it was a long way down. The good news was, the branches got longer top to bottom, slowing her fall.
When Stretch finally landed, Blink stared. Stretch on the ground? Right in front of her? Wing smashed back? She didn't know what to say.
Their eyes locked. Blink saw real fear in Stretch’s eyes. In their world, can’t fly, don’t survive.
End of Excerpt
Back and forth, twisting and plunging, closing her wings around herself, the fish hawk fought to keep her prize away. But the eagle dropped on her every time, batting her with his huge pinions to make her drop it. Raking her with his big yellow claws, again and again he attacked, blinding and deafening the osprey. Stretch was breathless from the blows. But she wouldn’t give up the fish. She hadn’t caught one in three days. She was dizzy from hunger.
“Queen of the Sky,” Stretch liked to call herself, but she didn't feel like that now. With her black and white mask and sharp, broad wings, she looked plenty grand and scary, but this eagle wasn’t scared.
Wham! This time she caught a claw in her left shoulder.
She shrieked with pain. It spasmed. She couldn’t hold on.
The fish spiraled down, down, down below both of them, striking the water like a rock, sinking forever out of sight.
The eagle wheeled away.
Sore, bleeding, Stretch glided down the quiet harbor. Usually it was the safest place on earth. And it was a lovely September morning on the island of North Haven, Maine. The sky was blue, the sun radiant. Yachts and fishing boats sat still as paintings at moorings. The harbor was a natural circle, so protected. Spruce trees grew to the shore forming a green wall. There was only one narrow entrance, with Pulpit Rock, craggy and steep, right in the middle, a natural guardian. Storms rarely got in.
Of course, in the wild world of creatures, nothing was ever certain. It was life and death every moment. Everyone had predators. Nights could be scary. Often you couldn’t find food. Once you got out of the nest or den, there was no one to watch out for you--except you. You got used to it, but life was never really easy or comfortable.
Below, Stretch glimpsed Blink the Great Blue Heron standing calmly at the water’s edge, staring into it. She was blue and black, with a long yellow bill, long neck, and even longer legs. That’s the life, thought Stretch. Just stand around while your meal swims right up to you, then reach out and spear it, no problem. He never saw Blink fighting an eagle.
As Stretch’s shadow passed over, Blink looked up with envy. She’d been waiting hours for that silver flash that meant dinner. She hadn’t eaten in four days. How she’d love to be able to just glide anywhere she wanted, like Stretch, until she saw a fish, then just drop down and grab it up. You could go anywhere the fish were. You never had to wait. That was the life.
Suddenly both were interrupted by Squawk the Laughing Gull, zigzagging down Pulpit Harbor, shrieking a warning so loud everyone could hear it. “Hurricane coming! Hurricane coming!” She was a fluffy, pudgy little white bird, usually cheerful. Now she was terrified.
No one paid attention. The gulls on the town dock gossiping didn't even look up.
Squawk was always screeching about something.
Also, no one was scared of storms. They blew over, not into, Pulpit Harbor. The harbor was so sheltered, all kinds of creatures lived around it, not only birds like Blink and Stretch and Bounce but also rabbits, deer, foxes, raccoons…. People who fished for a living moored their boats here. Summer visitors anchored yachts.
No, no one paid attention to Squawk’s warning, a big mistake.
This storm was different. Out in the bay, Squawk had seen the angry rain clouds building and boiling all morning. Now suddenly the sky went dark, like the sun just shut off. The wind came up with the speed of a line squall. The air grew cold as November. Lightning unzipped the midnight-black clouds over the bay. Giant boulders of thunder rolled in over Pulpit Rock. The wind whipped line after line of waves into crazy wolves, racing into the harbor, attacking the shore. Rain fell from the sky, its hard, stinging drops piercing the water like millions of nails. Gusts attacking the spruce trees twisted their branches into whips. The moored boats reared like horses. One broke loose. Another swamped and sank.
Now everyone—including the gulls on the town dock—paid attention.
Even Bounce the black duck, bobbing quietly, woke up.
But they were all too late to escape.
A big wave knocked Blink straight back, almost off her feet.
Overhead, gusts punched Stretch one way, then the other, wrenching her wounded wing back and forth. Suddenly She couldn’t fly, not this way, not that.
“Hey!” Blink cried, as if someone could hear or care. “Stop it!”
Bounce cried, “No, no! More!'' She rose on a crest, flapped her wings. “Isn't this cool?”
“No, it's not!”
Bounce disappeared down a trough, popped back up. “What a ride! This never happens here!”
Blink staggered up the bank, the waves chasing her.
Overhead, Stretch fought just to stay aloft. Large for her age, she weighed four pounds. She was strong. But these gusts struck like hammers. “Queen of the Sky?”
As the thunder crashed, the bows of the fishing boats plunged out of sight in the surging waves. The masts of the sailboats flailed in sickly arcs.
Blink staggered up to a tall spruce, ducking under its branches. A Great Blue Heron by birth, despite the name she was small in body, just three and a half pounds.
With a loud crack, a dead branch high in the tree snapped off, tumbling all the way to the ground. This was a real storm, Blink thought.
With a huge effort Stretch turned towards home, her nest on Pulpit Rock at the harbor’s entrance.
Squawk blew by again. “Look! Our own personal tornado!”
“What?” cried Stretch.
Then she saw what he meant. A spinning, giant hornet’s nest of rain and wind raced down the harbor towards them, sucking the foam right off the tops of the waves and flattening and blackening the water behind it. Howling…no, screeching…like some midnight monster….
Blink just stared. Until it flung her against the tree trunk.
Snatching up Stretch, it pasted her into the top of the nearest spruce as if she were a chip of wood. Her bad shoulder snagged on a branch, wrenching it again. Stretch almost passed out. She tried to stand but only one wing worked. Then the treetop, thrashing back and forth, hurled her out. Unable to fly, she fell, down, down, down through the branches.
“Hey, Blink!” Bounce was shouting now. “Don't you just love hurricanes?”
“Are you crazy?”
“The waves are fantastic. Up and down, up and down. What fun! Coming out?”
“I like calm,” called Blink.
For Stretch, the bad news was, it was a long way down. The good news was, the branches got longer top to bottom, slowing her fall.
When Stretch finally landed, Blink stared. Stretch on the ground? Right in front of her? Wing smashed back? She didn't know what to say.
Their eyes locked. Blink saw real fear in Stretch’s eyes. In their world, can’t fly, don’t survive.
End of Excerpt