Feathers in the Wind
Read Feathers in the Wind Online
Authors: Sally Grindley
For
Thomas Sellick
Contents
‘Vultures!’ Aesha pulled a face. ‘Why would we go all the way to India to hang out with vultures? They’re ugly and disgusting.’ She pushed her dinner plate away as though it contained something distasteful.
‘They speak very highly of you too,’ her father, Peter, replied.
‘I think they’re rather handsome,’ said her mother. ‘And they fulfil a very vital role.’
‘Like scavenging on things that other animals have killed,’ Aesha said scornfully.
‘That’s exactly right,’ said Binti. ‘They clean up what’s been left, and that’s very important in helping to prevent disease. Talking of which, it’s your turn to clear the table.’
‘What’s India like?’ Joe asked.
Their mother, Binti, who was an international vet, had just announced that they were going to spend time there while she helped with research into why vulture numbers were declining to such an extent that they were becoming endangered.
‘It’s hot and noisy and chaotic and full of wonderful smells and there’s an amazing photo to be taken every few seconds,’ Peter told him.
Joe perked up at the idea of that. He had his very own camera and wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps as a wildlife photographer.
‘So why are vultures in India endangered?’ Aesha wanted to know. ‘We saw lots of them when we were in Africa.’
‘It seems they may be sensitive to a drug used to treat cattle,’ Binti replied.
‘Vultures don’t eat cattle, do they?’ said Joe.
‘Yes, they do,’ said Binti. ‘When cattle die, farmers take their carcasses to a communal place and leave them for vultures and other scavengers to pick over. Traces of the drug have been found in some carcasses, and there appears to be a link between that and the dramatic reduction in vulture numbers.’
‘So they need to stop using the drug,’ said Aesha. ‘Job done.’ She pushed back her chair and collected the dirty plates.
‘If only it were that simple,’ said Binti. ‘Farmers rely on certain drugs to keep their cattle healthy. And cattle are vital to the farmers’ livelihoods.’
‘It’s never simple, is it, Mum?’ Joe commented.
Foggy the dog woke from his slumber under the table and nestled his head on Joe’s knee.
‘So many things depend on other things, don’t they, Foggy?’ he continued.
‘Upset one cog in a finely tuned engine and the whole lot grinds to a halt,’ his father agreed. ‘It’s the same with the natural world, and it’s usually man’s interference that causes the problem.’
‘Sometimes human beings are so dumb. We do so much damage to the world around us.’ Aesha sounded as if she’d rather not be human. Joe often wondered if she was an alien rather than his sister.
‘Sometimes a perfectly innocent pursuit can cause problems,’ said Binti. ‘One of the things that’s not helping the vulture population in India is kite-flying. That’s the main reason for my trip.’
‘Kite-flying!’ Joe was incredulous. ‘How can kite-flying affect vultures?’
‘It probably scares them!’ said Aesha.
‘It’s worse than that. January the fourteenth is the annual International Kite Festival in Ahmedabad, where we’re staying. Everyone flies kites to celebrate Uttarayan – the end of winter and beginning of summer,’ Binti explained. ‘They cover the strings of the kites with ground glass, which makes them sharp. The idea is that kite-flyers target rival kites and try to cut them out of the sky. Sadly, large numbers of vultures get caught up in the strings.’
Joe grimaced at the thought of what could happen to the vultures.
‘Mum, that’s awful!’ Aesha cried. ‘Surely not many vultures would fly into them, would they?’
‘Yes, unfortunately – especially since the festival covers such a huge area,’ said Peter. ‘Your mother will be helping to save the injured birds while we’re there.’
Joe looked at his mother with pride. Not only did his mother come from Tanzania, which meant he was half-African, but he and Aesha were lucky enough to travel the world because of their parents’ professions.
It’s so cool having an international vet for a mum
, he thought.
The next few days passed in a whirl as Joe and his family prepared themselves for their trip. Joe was excited about all the opportunities he would have to take photographs, and the more he thought about the kite festival, the more he wanted his own kite to fly.
‘I wouldn’t want to put glass on the string because of the vultures, but it would be so cool to fly a kite with everyone else,’ he said to his mother and father, hoping they would agree and buy him one.
‘By the time we’ve packed all of your sister’s ninety-two different outfits,’ said Peter, ‘there won’t be a millimetre of extra space left in the cases for a kite.’
Aesha shot him a withering look. ‘It’s your cameras that take up all the space,’ she countered. ‘I don’t know why you have to have so many of them.’
‘So that I can record every single moment of my beautiful daughter’s life.’ Peter grinned at her. ‘Even when her face resembles that of a wicked witch.’
‘Careful, Dad.’ Joe giggled. ‘She might turn you into a frog!’ He squatted on the floor and began to leap around making croaking noises. Foggy, woken from his sleep, scuffled round him, barking excitedly.
‘Ha, ha, very funny,’ said Aesha scornfully. ‘A stone rather than a frog would be better in the case of annoying little boys.’
‘If you don’t all get a move on, you’ll have more than a wicked witch after you,’ threatened Binti.
‘Come on, Joe,’ said Peter, opening the front door and calling Foggy to heel. ‘Let’s flee the coven before things turn really nasty.’
‘Poor Foggy,’ said Joe. ‘Off to the doggery again.’ He patted him on the head as they got into the car.
‘Most dogs in India would give their back teeth to go where Foggy’s going,’ said Peter. ‘A plump mattress to sleep on, doggy biscuits in all sorts of flavours, bones with meat on, lots of pats and hugs and walkies, and lady friends to make him feel like a prize pooch. Poor Foggy!’
Joe pouted. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but it’s not the same as being at home.’
‘Most dogs in India don’t have a home,’ Peter replied. He tooted his horn at a motorist who had cut in sharply in front of them, making Joe jump. ‘There’ll be plenty of that in India,’ he added, tooting the horn again for good measure.
Joe felt sorry for the dogs in India. At the same time he was uneasy about coming across them in the streets. ‘Are they dangerous?’ he asked.
‘The dogs or the motorists?’ Peter chuckled. ‘Actually, they’re both as bad, but the dogs will be more interested in scavenging through rubbish than taking bites out of skinny little boys, though they can be quite scary and some of them carry rabies. As for the motorists, they’re very good at driving five-abreast along a three-lane street. You have to be sure to breathe in, that’s all.’
They arrived at the boarding kennels and said their goodbyes to Foggy, who trotted off happily enough as soon as he spotted another dog in the distance.
Their last stop was Peter’s favourite photographic shop, where he stocked up on equipment to take the amazing wildlife photographs that hung on the walls of their house and appeared in newspapers and magazines. Joe gazed enthusiastically at the cabinets and shelves with their displays of cameras in all shapes and sizes, as well as lenses and leads, cases and batteries. There was so much more to taking a photograph than pointing a camera and pressing a button.
As they left the shop, Peter handed Joe a small package. ‘It’s a zoom lens for your camera,’ he said. ‘You’ll need it for photographing those kites.’
It hadn’t occurred to Joe that he would have his first curry of their Indian trip on board the plane to Delhi. He liked curry, as long as it wasn’t too hot. His father was ‘a dab hand’ at cooking Asian food and Joe loved to help him blend and grind down spices in their pestle and mortar, breathing in the delicious spicy smells until they made him sneeze. For a special treat their parents would take Aesha and him to their local Indian restaurant, where he always chose chicken tikka.
Joe lifted the foil lid on the meal in front of him, unsure whether he was going to like it or not. It didn’t look particularly appetising in its plastic container.
‘You’ll have to get used to eating curry for breakfast, lunch and dinner,’ said Peter, grinning at him. ‘Of course, it won’t be as good as mine.’
‘What if it’s too hot?’ Joe wanted to know.
‘We’ll make sure you don’t choose anything that will blow the roof of your mouth off,’ his father replied. ‘Eat up now or you’ll be saying it’s too cold.’
Joe took a bite of the meat and was pleased to find that it was a lot tastier than most airline food. He ate the lot. One mouthful of the pudding was enough, though, because to him it tasted like his mother’s perfume!
‘Will we really have to have curry for breakfast?’ he asked her.
‘I’m sure there’ll be an alternative in the hotel,’ said Binti. ‘Much as I love curry, even I would struggle to eat it three times a day.’
‘I hope they have cereal,’ Aesha piped up.
Joe had mixed feelings about staying in a hotel. On previous trips, he and his family had often been housed with local conservationists in their staff headquarters, as they had, for instance, when they visited eastern Russia to help with a project to save tigers. The staff headquarters were very basic, but being there had made Joe feel part of the team. When they stayed in a hotel, he felt more like a tourist and less involved, despite the fact that it was much more comfortable.
‘Is there a swimming pool at the hotel?’ he asked, though it was Aesha who was the swimming champion in the family.
‘Only for toddlers,’ Peter responded, winking at Joe.
‘What!’ Aesha exclaimed. ‘What about the regional championships in two months’ time? Mum, you promised we’d stay somewhere with a pool.’
‘Don’t listen to your father. He’s pulling your leg,’ Binti reassured her. ‘Not only is there a pool, but there’s a gym as well, though you won’t be allowed to use it at your age.’
‘Dad will be able to run off his big fat belly,’ said Joe, giggling loudly.
‘You leave my belly out of it,’ retorted Peter. ‘It’s a perfect specimen and much loved, thank you.’
‘A perfect specimen of what happens when you enjoy your food too much,’ said Aesha.
‘He’d probably break the running machine, wouldn’t he, Mum?’ Joe squealed with laughter.
Peter patted his stomach. ‘Let them mock,’ he said. ‘We know where true happiness lies.’