The Summer of the Falcon by Jean Craighead George

Author:Jean Craighead George
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781453223338
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media LLC
Published: 2011-06-15T21:00:00+00:00

8. The Flood

AT MIDNIGHT, her uncle rapped on June’s door.

“We’re in for a big storm, Junie—wind and lots of water. The hurricane that hit Virginia yesterday is here. Put on your bathing suit and bring in your falcon!”

June was awake and on her feet. Outside she could see the willows bend and the underside of the sycamore leaves shine silver as the storm tossed them. The night sucked and shook and blew. The earth was on violent terms with itself.

Everybody was up.

She dashed into the wind. It snatched the breath from her throat and snapped her hair like whips against her face. Zander, Zander...he could not withstand this. He would be torn from his perch, pulled the length of his jesses, then yanked to his death. She ran across the yard, head down, into the driving, painful rain.

Her falcon was on his perch. She was amazed to see him, facing the storm, eyes half-closed. She cupped him in both hands and tried to lift him. He held tight. She pulled again, his talons dug in. He could not let go. The more she pulled, the tighter he gripped. He was designed to stay alive in a world of storm and stress, and the harder the wind blew, the more June pulled, the tighter the tendon in his rear toe grasped the perch. She remembered the night her father had told her about this tendon. They were watching Zander as he slept. When he settled down and relaxed, the tendon in the back of his leg clamped his toes shut. Now he stood in the storm because his legs were bent in the position that locked his toes on his perch. She released him, his toes opened, and she snatched him up quickly before he could grab again. She ran into the house, slammed the door and leaned against it. The downstairs hall was in a state of motion as Don came in with Ulysses, Charles with Comet; and Rod called out the door for Bobu.

Charles saw his sister hugging her wet cold bird to her chest.

“Spread newspapers at the far end of the living room,” he shouted. “We’ll put the birds on Aunt Helen’s side and the animals on ours.”

Aunt Helen came down the stairs and sleepily sat on the couch. She watched “the creatures come aboard the ark.”

“Ulysses looks splendid on the cherry chair,” she observed, as the noble falcon stood straight and drew up a yellow foot. To June the needlepoint on the chair seemed more rich in color for the falcon’s presence. Slowly he lifted his feathers. They ventilated him in the heat and cold, keeping him comfortable no matter the temperature. The feathers puffed out at the bottom of his breast, then stood out like thistledown over his crop. Those on the top of his head, around his ears, his eyes, and finally his nares, were the last to stand softly ajar. He was gentle-looking and exquisite.

Comet was placed on the back of a dining-room chair nearby.

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