Monday 28 May 2012

NELSON:


NELSON:
THE MEETING:

I live in the South of Spain, & the day I met Nelson was a public holiday, Dia de Hispanidad, or Spanish day, which is celebrated in most Spanish speaking countries around the world. The date was the 12th of October, & it was a squally, cold & blustery day, a day nobody could walk in without fighting the wind & rain. The fishing boats were warned not to go out to sea & most folk stayed at home. My husband Carlos & I lived in a complex by a beautiful river lined with willow & eucalyptus trees, where the occasionally otters would appear, fish would jump & turtles would bask on warm rocks. There were a lot of different species of birds in the area, including the beautiful coloured kingfishers & exotic African hoopoes, which always reminded me of South Africa, where I had originally came from, & still missed terribly. We were surrounded by lovely countryside where horses grazed & the fields were planted with a sea of waving sunflowers which lit up the surrounding green. It was a beautiful area & we had been happy living there with our two sons Ivan & Xavy, but they were both away from home studying, so Carlos & I were now alone with our faithful Labrador Simba.
When one has a dog, especially a Labrador, you have no excuse not to go out, whatever the weather, & this awful day was no exception. So I got togged out in a plastic rain suit & wellies, as an umbrella would have been of no use in the howling wind, & out we went into the screaming elements. Simba was off like a rocket, straight towards the river which he loved. He ran into the wind, his ears flying back, his tail wagging furiously, tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting with sheer excited joy & freedom, while I followed him gingerly, screwing my eyes up against the stinging rain. Of course my beloved dog just had to go into the swirling swollen river, but as he was already wet it did´nt really matter, but I was rather worried about the furious flow of the currents, but Simba dabbled in the shallows & realized that the water that day was too much for him so he came out & bounded across the meadows with joyous abandon. When he had tired himself out, we headed for home, looking forward to getting Simba & myself dried off & having a hot drink.
As we were approaching home I saw him, a bedraggled bag of brown feathers sitting on my neighbours roof which was directly in front of my bedroom balcony. It was a raptor, but I could´nt make out what kind at that moment because the weather was so bad & he looked so battered. I called to him, but he just watched me with those beady eyes, suspicious & wary. As there was nothing I could do because he was so far up, I took Simba home & when we were dried & warm, I went into my bedroom from where I could see if the bird was still there, & he was, just sitting. It was dusk by that time & getting dark & I thought that he would probably be gone by morning. Needless to say, I did not sleep very well that night thinking of that poor sodden bird. He had probably been swept in with the storm because at that time of year we did´nt see many raptors.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU:
When I took Simba out for his morning walk early the next day the day the bird was still sitting where he perched the night before & looked even more bedraggled in the cold grey light. I could see now that he was a hawk & a young one. As he stretched out his wings I could see that a couple of wing feathers were missing, probably due to the previous storm. As Simba & I walked along the river bank the bird flew into the air & followed us, hovering just above my head. He could fly but his flight was off balance & crooked. His wing didn’t look as though it was broken, which was a good thing. My mother had fixed many broken wings of a variety of birds when we had lived in Africa so I knew what I was looking for. It was obvious that this bird was very hungry, so when I got back home with a very wet dog & a wonky hawk in tow I decided that something had to be done. The bird went back to the roof of the house next door where he could watch our house. I found some pork chunks in the fridge, so I cut them into smaller pieces. I found a thick pair of welding gloves of my husband´s in the garage, & leaving Simba inside, I went out onto my balcony & put the meat on the balcony right opposite to where the bird was sitting. No sooner than I had put the meat down the bird flew straight at the meat, but because his flight was so unbalanced, he crashed into the windows stunning himself & falling to the ground.. I ran outside to pick him up but he has already managed to pull himself together & had flown up to his roosting place, eyeing the meat, but not daring to try again. So I took the meat & went out into a field next to our house. I whistled as I went, a special whistle, & held the meat over my head. The bird followed me, & when I got to the field he swooped down & took the meat from my hand. We repeated this a few more times until the meat was finished & I knew then that he would survive. I decided to call the bird Nelson, not as folk believed after Nelson Mandela because I had lived in South Africa, but after Admiral Nelson because he was such a regal bird. I had a standing order with the local butcher for scraps of meat & chicken on the bone. I told Simba that if he was a good dog he would also get his share so that he would not be jealous.

GETTING INTO A ROUTINE:
I got books on the raptors & how to train them, & I also phoned up specialists in England & Spain for advice. I did not want to catch, nor capture Nelson. I wanted him to be free, but I wanted to help him. Neighbours wanted to catch him & tried to tempt him with spicy Spanish sausage, but he would not go to them. Kids tried to stone him down out of the eucalyptus tree that he had adopted as his permanent roost. The radio stations & newspapers came to film him, but Nelson hid away from all cameras. He would only come to me & when I used “our” special whistle he would appear as if from nowhere. Simba was jealous, so I devised a system where I would take the meat & glove on our walks into the field by the river. I would bid Simba to “sit” under a tree, & then I would whistle to Nelson who would swoop down & take his meat up to his tree & eat it. After the bird got his food, I would give Simba a chunk of meat & he soon realized that if he obeyed & sat still until Nelson got his meat then he too would get a piece. Simba wasn´t stupid, he realized that it was in his interest to leave the bird in peace.

TIME PASSES:
Our routine was established, Nelson trusted me, Simba was on to a good thing with this new arrival & the bird started to look better. He fattened out & lost that bedraggled look & his flight started to right itself as his missing feathers started to grow again. Kids left the bird alone, the press went away & we were on our own. Wherever I went with my old faithful dog Nelson flew over me like a protector & people began to accept the fact that this strange foreign woman was probably a witch. Nelson started eating five times a day & he stayed near home in a very tall eucalyptus tree, he was free but safe. One day I threw Simba a ball with a rope attached to it & he ran to retrieve it, & as he picked up the ball in his mouth, Nelson flew down & picked up the rope in his beak & flew up pulling the ball with Simba attached to the other end. Simba weighed forty five kilos, no light weight, but he pulled down & Nelson pulled up & they had a tug of war between them. Simba always won in the end obviously because his weight was in his favour, but Nelson managed to pull hard enough to get Simba´s front half of his body lifted high enough to make me feel a little uneasy. This game because a favourite of both dog & bird. Simba had a habit of catching small little moles & low nesting birds. I know it is a natural instinct of hounds of this breed to do this but I always tried to discourage it because it made me sad for these creatures, but to no avail. One day he caught & killed a little bird & took it to Nelson´s tree & looked up at the big bird with his offering in his mouth & Nelson flew down & took the offering gently from Simba´s mouth. Simba did not resist, he had given his friend this gift. When Nelson had stripped the meat from the bird he gave the bones to Simba, who happily crunched them into oblivion. This act happened often too & trust between Simba & Nelson grew.

THE END:
Winter had ended after terrible weather, now Spring was in the air, longer balmy warm days appeared & Nelson looked magnificent. His feathers had grown back new & strong, he looked sturdy & healthy & he was no longer a straggly chick, he was a beautiful strong male ready to face the world. I had noticed a change in Nelson as the months passed. He went from feeding five times a day, to four, then three, two, & now once a day. This wasn’t forced upon him, it was just the way he wanted it. He had begun flying further away as he got stronger & I realized that he was probably hunting more on his own as his strength improved. If I went out & couldn´t see him, I would whistle & I would see a dot on the horizon, getting bigger as he neared, he always answered my call & not just for food. I could feel it in my soul that he was ready to go & it was a bitter-sweet feeling. I felt like a mother who had nurtured a son who was now ready to fly out into the big wide world. I was happy he had the freedom & had survived, but I was sad because I loved him dearly. I remember the last day well. Simba & I were on our walk by our river, with meat & glove, I whistled. That dot on the horizon materialized, but today, as it got nearer I thought I was seeing double. Nelson came closer, but today he had come with a mate, he had come to introduce his lady & to say farewell. It was Spring, mating time, breeding season, Nelson was a strong male hawk & he was ready. He & his lady flew into the eucalyptus tree & sat side by side watching Simba & I. I put my glove on, walked into the field so that Nelson would have enough room for flight with those magnificent wings. I held out my hand with the meat in it & down flew Nelson taking the meat & returning to the tree where his mate sat. He placed the meat on the branch between his powerful talons & tore it into three pieces. He placed a piece in the beak of his lady, he then dropped a piece to the ground where Simba sat drooling until he gulped it down, and then he ate the last piece himself. He had shared this last piece of meat with his friends. Nelson then plucked two of his feathers out from under his wings, & he & his lady flew out of the tree, up into the sky. They both flew down until they were just above my head & then flew around my head together three times, when Nelson let free the two feathers from his beak which landed at my feet, & which I still have. They then flew up into the sky & Nelson squawked his farewell & off they flew into the wild blue yonder, leaving me with tears running down my face, which Simba gently licked away.

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