Writing for Fun
Nigel Crane's Winter - Gerry Miller
December 2014
Nigel stood strong and proud although he was just over five feet tall, he felt in fantastic condition. His red birth marks around his eyes shone in the sunlight and he knew that now – it was time. Over the last few days his whole family had vanished and whilst he remained carefully concealed, his instinct told him that it was time also for him to disappear. This country was warming up and now could no longer be home for him.
The journey would be arduous and he was so uncertain as to whether he would be able to make it over the mountain ranges, his maximum flight height by his own calculations was between three and a possible five thousand feet. He had puzzled and pondered and figured that with all the necessary stops for fuel and water etc. the journey would take two to three weeks. His stomach knotted he felt too young to be undertaking this. He had been too busy stuffing his face when his family disappeared. Mind you perhaps it was better to be alone; he did not know what the fates would hold for them or indeed for himself.
He checked out the weather again and felt that the currents and thermals could work to his advantage. Whilst he would be flying into winter and he would lose body heat quickly it would be easier to stay out of harm's way. Nigel knew that his navigation would rely solely on instinct and sense of direction, so all night flying would be out. The thought of flying in the day when any trackers or hunters would be able to see him, left him with a chill down his back.
Nigel filled his belly to the limit and wondered if his increased weight would be to his advantage. Mind you once he reached safety, if he reached safety, then he could build up again. Maybe the girls would fancy him if he was slimmer. Nigel had turned to face the gentle breeze nose pointing upwards he lifted off and soared away. The white wings had looked splendid underneath his carriage and would hopefully look cloudlike and shield him from watchers on the ground. He felt so exhilarated as he soared high and low catching as many thermals as he could. His need to preserve fuel was paramount in his brain.
Nigel found the demilitarised zones separating North and South Korea; he was wary about the presence of so many soldiers on either side and decided to land firmly in the middle of the wetlands. He found the area almost deserted apart from the wildlife roaming around making all sorts of noises. At least this masked any noise he made.
The journey carried on steadily and Nigel was lucky changing his diet as varying possibilities were presented. He had always been a good scavenger and staying away from villages and towns was essential. The last thing he wanted was to be shot. Seeds berries and sweet corn went down a treat, the snails had been fine but the worms had definitely been hard work. Nigel knew that the last few days would be the hardest of all. Not only would he have to increase his altitude to fly over the mountain ranges ahead but the hunters were becoming extra vigilant the nearer he got to the next border. Food was scarce and they wanted no food shortages caused by any migrants who would strip a field of corn and clear a lake of much of its fish in a flash.
Nigel landed safely and hid at the edge of the tree line, his camouflage was poor and the wind was bitterly cold. He stood for ages first on one leg and then on the other, at least that way only one leg got freezing cold at a time. As the sun rise started he could hear rustling in the woods and moving with all the speed his cold body could manage he was up and away. As he glanced down he saw two hunters' rifles aimed and shooting. He banked so sharply that he almost winded himself but he was away unharmed.
He stayed as high as he could but his breathing was becoming laboured, Nigel could feel his future fading. The view was magnificent surely he must be able to see his final destination shortly. He sensed that North Korea had been left far behind and as the weeks passed he had worked his way carefully along the eastern edge of China. The air had changed and as he had flown on relentlessly he remembered seeing others all on the move. Many stayed in family groups with some hugging the margins of the wetlands and the paddy fields.
Nigel knew that his stamina was failing; his isolation had been his safeguard but this was leading to a significant mood change. He knew that the next day would probably be his last and that he would never reach his goal. The loss of companionship and the possibility of a partner and of a family all seemed to flash before his eyes. Young strong and virile was how he had started this journey of migration; this was not how he would finish.
Nigel fed poorly that evening but rested well, he had adjusted to the temperature change and standing alternately on one leg then the other had really helped. Awake with the breaking sun, Nigel wasting no time took off quickly soaring as high as his weary carriage could take him. He heard the noise first as it carried out on the wind; the solid booming was spreading around him seeming to vibrate through his body, his heart soared. At last he could see Lake Khanka spreading across the China/Russia border. The movement of his fellow White Caped Cranes was a truly marvellous sight to behold. Nigel landed gently by the lake side and his spirit lifted as his future opened up again before him. He had earned his place as an adult wild crane.
