The Eagle & The Dove

 A short distance from where the dog was now drinking from the stream, she noticed there were men beating the berries from the trees.  They were to close, she thought, perhaps it would be better to look elsewhere.  Then the unease she had felt previously returned, that nagging sensation of doubt that had been plaguing her all through the hunt.  Once more she studied the scene below with her mind calculating distances.  It may be hours before she spotted anything else, if indeed she did.  The dog was quite large and her family were very hungry.  She decided she must chance it.

In the olive field below, a group of Gypsies contracted for the season were busy at their labour.  One of the Gypsies caught sight of Remera.  "Look, up there", he cried; "It's one of the Eagles".

  As if with one mind, all his fellow workers turned their head to the sky, admiring this magnificent creature.  The Gypsies loved the great Eagle.  To them, this bird symbolised the very freedom they themselves treasured so much. 

  As they watched Remera circle, they were approached by their patron.  "Why have you stopped", he demanded to know. 

  It was well known to the Gypsies, that the farmers hated the Eagles.  What they could not know, was that their patron was Fernadez Herreria, whose brother had been killed by Remera only last year. 

  Herreria now turned his eyes upward to see what had attracted the workers' attention.  As he caught sight of Remera, his lips turned into a snarl and his expression emitted only malice and hate. Ordering the Gypsies back to their labour, he spun around and headed for his musket.

  Most of the valley people believed there were still quite a few Eagles remaining.  They could not possibly know, that Remera and her family where all that remained.  As for Herreria, his hatred was for every one of them.  These creatures had killed his brother.  To him, they were all guilty. They where tools of the devil, and they must all die.

  Reaching his horse, he pulled down the blanket in which his firearm was rolled.  After removing it from its protective sheet, he reached into his saddle-bags for powder and shot.  Looking upwards once more he confirmed the Eagle was still circling then made his way to the end of his field, hoping to see what was attracting the raptor's interest.

  As Herreria marched to the end of his field, the Gypsies gave each other a knowing look.  An unsaid message passed between them.  They were not going to allow him to kill the bird.

  Herreria, meanwhile, had reached the fence and was gazing intently to the open land beyond.  It was then he spotted the dog.  That was his bitch out there that the Eagle was watching.  He calculated the range at around nine hundred metres.  At that distance, he could not guarantee he would kill the bird but he could certainly wound it.  With a bit of luck he may render it flightless and have the chance of a second shot. 

  A cruel smirk came to his mouth.  He had been meaning to kill the dog anyway.  Now that she was impregnated by some other mongrel, he would let the Eagle do his killing for him.  The smirk now became a smile, then a throaty chuckle as he realised the irony of the situation.  He would kill two birds with one stone.  Or more correctly he chuckled to himself, one bird and one dog with one shot.  He started to load his musket, applying what he judged the right amount of powder for the distance.  When he was happy with the mix, he rested the barrel across an olive tree branch and began to wait.

  High above, Remera decided the time for her attack had come.  She noticed the dog had finished drinking and was about to make his way to the berry field. If she allowed it to get to close, her chance would be gone for good.  With a final glance around, she began her killing descent.

  Habby, who was working the olive field below,  knew of the slaughter that had taken place the previous summer.  It was still being talked about in every Bodega and cafe in the valley.  Like most Gypsies, he considered the Eagles to have been justified.  After all he thought they had only done what was natural to them.  Habby was not going to let Herreria kill the bird, the Eagles where the spiritual talisman of his clan.  Hoisting his lengthy `Barra', he cautiously moved closer to his employer.

   Remera loved the hunt as much as any Eagle.  Yet somehow, it never filled her with the same thrill and excitement as it had Cylor.  To her, it was just a most pleasurable necessity, now with young to feed an important one.

  Down Remera came, body assuming a semi stoop position typical of all diving birds of prey.  Within the space of a few heart beats, she was locked into her victim.  She heard the breaking of bones from the impact and the death scream of the dog as her talons ripped through its flesh.

  It all happened so quickly that Remera never knew how close she had come to her death that day.  Her eyes caught a movement in the berry field and with two beats of her wings she propelled herself and the now dead dog, vertically upwards and away from the area.

  In the field, Herreria had waited for the precise moment of impact.  As he watched Remera plummet down, then strike into his bitch he had aimed his musket and started to squeeze the trigger.

  Behind him, Habby the Gypsy swung his Barra backwards (with what he had to admit after was unnecessary force).  The two and a half meter willow pole crashed onto Herreria's wrist.  The force of the impact broke the farmers' wrist.  Letting out a shriek of pain, he dropped his musket.  With his useless wrist dangling limply, he turned on Habby.

  `You stupid Gypsy bastard', he screamed at him. White anger boiling up inside him, he momentarily forgot his injury and dived for his fallen weapon.  He gave another cry of pain as he tried to pick it up with his injured hand.  Grabbing the musket with his left hand, he spun round to where his dog had been. 

  It was to late.  High above, heading to the mountains, he caught sight of the Eagle with his dog dangling beneath it.

 Now his rage and frustration turned back on Habby.  "Get out", he screamed.  "Get out of my field before I shoot you", he spat at Habby.  As if wanting to keep his word there and then, he started to raise his musket.  It was then he noticed the other Gypsies had moved closer to him, holding their Barra's in a positively threatening manner. 

  Herreria was no fool.  He slowly let his musket point to the ground. 

  "Please forgive me patron", said Habby.  "I was not to know you were so close behind me".

  Herreria was not convinced, despite the subservient manner in which the Gypsy had apologised.  Controlling the rage he still felt he said slowly to Habby.  "Get off my land, I want you out of my field and out of the valley.  I will see to it, you never find work here again in your life, which I hope will be very short".  Ordering the other Gypsies back to work, he watched in silent rage, as Habby mounted his horse and rode away.

Remera, unaware that her life had been saved by one her enemies was heading home.  She was quite pleased with the size and weight of her prey.  It was rare to find such a well-fed domesticated pet. They normally fed them just enough to keep alive and functioning.