CHAPTER 21
Although it was dark by half past six, I waited another whole hour before I felt ready to act. And so, with a very rumbling stomach (not a full bladder, since I had relieved myself in the bush!), I climbed out of my car at half past seven and closed the door as quietly as possible.
I’d found an old black hoodie on the back seat, and I put it on now and raised the hood over my head. I scuttled across the large, open grassland with the stealth of a black puma. I ducked behind bushes and hid behind trees with the cunning of a leopard on the hunt. I threw myself on the ground and crawled with the grace of a . . .Fuck, no—there was nothing graceful about this at all. In fact, my body was really not made to wiggle on the ground like this.
And soon the tree was very much in my grasp. It was only about twenty meters away and I decided to make a final sprint for it. But, as I did, I almost ran into two jogging women on the path. At the last second, I managed to evade detection by jumping out their way. Unfortunately, this jump also led to a rather uncontrollable roll. A roll down an embankment I hadn’t seen. I tried to stop myself, but gravity was a bitch and the embankment was steep and I’d gained too much momentum and now I was being tossed around like a shoe in a tumble dryer. Around and around and around and then . . .Splash!
“Crap!” I screamed, as I fell into the muddy shallow waters of the river. I tried to get up; the mud squelched beneath my feet and dragged me deeper and deeper into it. “Oh my God!” I waved my arms around frantically to stop myself from falling backwards. I tottered and teetered and grabbed on to the low-hanging branch of a tree to stop myself from losing my balance. But then . . .
Chaos!
A hundred ear-shattering squeaks and squawks!
The gale-force wind of hundreds of birds taking off in panic whipped at my face.
The rain of bird splatter, thick and warm and gooey.
I screamed as the beating of wings grew so loud that I felt like I was standing behind a Boeing 747 that was taking off. I was terrified as the noise surrounded me like a raging hurricane. And then, just as quickly as it had started, it was gone. I looked up. The moon was completely obscured by what seemed to be hundreds of birds flying into the night. My God, I had never seen so many birds together in my entire life. But then, suddenly, the night wasn’t so dark anymore.
It was bright and I couldn’t work out where the light was coming from. It seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. I was disorientated and stumbled forward again, trying to rub the combination of bird crap and mud from my eyes. I threw myself forward and gripped on to the long grass of the embankment, pulling myself out of the river. And then I heard it. Another noise filled the air. Dogs and shouting and running and . . .what the hell was going on?I finally managed to open my eyes, and, when I did, I froze.
There, surrounding me on all sides, like an army, angry-looking residents were holding torches, and all of them were pointing at me.
“Mommy, it’s a swamp monster!” I heard a child shriek.
“No! No!” I stepped forward and waved my hands at them. “I’m friendly. Not a monster,” I said. Which only seemed to cause more screaming.
“She’s coming for us!” another child yelled, and then another one burst into tears, and suddenly concerned-looking mothers were dragging their children away.Did I really look that bad?
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Someone with a massive torch stepped forward. He was probably the leader of this mob! “Are you aware that this tree is off limits?” he said.
Then someone else spoke. “Are you aware that you have just disturbed the sacred nesting spot of the black-crested night budgie that has migrated all the way from São Tomé and Príncipe.”
“Huh?” That sounded made up, if you ask me.
“It hasn’t nested here in over 200 years, and now it will probably never return, thanks to you!” another angry person shouted.
“And it only lays one egg a year, before plunging to its death in the Strait of Gibraltar.”
“It plunges?” I asked. “Like a lemming?”
“Oh God,” one moaned loudly. “We might never hear their sweet song again.”
“What?!” I stared at these people. They all seemed more concerned that I’d disturbed some nesting birds than the fact I was breaking and entering. This thing sounded totally made up and I decided to challenge them.
“And how do you know they only nested here 200 years ago?” I asked indignantly.
A gasp rose up from the crowd. “Who the hell are you?” the man asked again.
“She must be an eco-terrorist!” shouted one person.
“Wait, wait!” I put my hands in the air again. “I didn’t even know those birds were nesting here. And, let’s be honest, they looked like pigeons, if you ask me.”
At that, more gasps. As ifpigeonwas a dirty word.
“And, trust me, I am not an eco-terrorist. I don’t know the first thing about the eco-bloody-system.”
“Have you not seen those pictures of the sea—”
“Horses?” I cut her off and sighed. “What’s with all this seahorse talk?” I threw my hands in the air and people began to back away from me as if I was mad.
“I suppose you don’t care about the orangutans either?” someone asked. They sounded as if they were on the verge of tears.Who were these people?Of course I cared about the orangutans, of course I worried about forests and global warming, but I still liked Nutella! Although, I didn’t think I should say that.
I sighed in total resignation. This night was not turning out the way it was supposed to. I looked to my left; the willow tree was right there. Within my grasp, but so far out of reach, what with this mob surrounding me with torches. And then a familiar voice cut through the chatter. I turned and looked, and . . .I was not pleased!
