Meet the Old Man

“Gale,” shouted the old man. He strode up the hillside, .22 rifle crooked over his right arm, hunting bag nestled against his kidneys. His face was hard, skin darkened by a lifetime outdoors. Wrinkles, huge and furrowed, creased the extent of his brow and radiated from his eyes.

“Come on,” he said but the dog seemed in distress. It barked. It set itself firm against the slope, on its haunches, back rigid, head raised. It barked again. And again. The old man looked up. Above them, twenty yards or so in the air, hovered a bird, bigger than any the old man had ever seen. It soared on the current, enormous wings forming a shallow V. Image of savage beauty, mesmerising. Its tail, long and wedge-shaped, was tipped white, the bottoms of its wings white sliding into grey. Its body was golden. The old man could clearly see its legs, muscled like a Powderhall sprinter, like they belonged on a much larger animal. He could see its yellow eyes, its slate-grey beak. The dog growled, fur raised, front legs stiff with fear.

Suddenly, the eagle swooped. It made for the dog, which rose up and bared its teeth in terrified aggression. The old man waved his rifle towards the bird. It swung away and flew upwards and hovered once more and the waiting game recommenced. It was the most beautiful object the old man had ever seen. Killing perfection. It swooped again and the dog barked again and the old man waited until the bird was close and swung his rifle again. He felt a surge of air as the bird dropped close. Eyes cold, like metal, unblinking. Its beak was open, a mawing expanse defined by the sharpest sharp and the blackest black. The old man was transfixed as it plunged towards the dog, claws outstretched, ready to grip, ready to rip. The dog reared up, its bark high-pitched and demented. It seemed the bird must take the dog but, at the last, it raised up and, as though plucked by an invisible presence, it soared into the air once more. It hovered twenty yards up but did not attack again and, finally, it drifted on a thermal high into the sky, looping into the grey lour of the cloud until the old man could no longer see it.