Writing for Children Competition - Green - Runner Up

“What was that?” Charlie shielded his eyes from the sun as he scanned the skies.
“No idea,” replied Luke, re-focusing his binoculars on the limestone cliff opposite them. “But here it comes again.”
This time, there was an audible rush of air as the bird passed over their heads.
“Wow! That was fast,” exclaimed Luke.
“Went over like a jet fighter.”
“A jet fighter with yellow feet.”
“I saw those too,” agreed Charlie. “And a black hood on its head – like a mask.”
“Look!” Luke pointed to their left. “There’s another one.”
From their vantage point lying flat on their stomachs overlooking the quarry, the boys could see a second fast-flying bird.
“They’ve got to be some sort of bird of prey,” said Charlie, who was a keen naturalist.
“Maybe,” replied Luke. “Let’s go down the slope a bit further. See if we can see them better.”
The two friends started to slide gingerly down the rocky slope to a lower plateau, still a good height above the quarry floor, when Luke held up his hand.
“Sssh,” he said urgently. He beckoned towards the quarry entrance. A Land Rover was driving slowly towards them, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it.
“We’d better get out of here,” mouthed Charlie.
The boys retraced their steps, keeping as low as possible, until they were out of sight. Then they ran as fast as they could back to the public footpath, squeezing through a hole in the fence and past the sign saying ‘DANGER! QUARRY Keep Out’.
Later that day, Luke received a What’s App picture with the message: “Peregrine Falcon. Think this is what we saw.”
Luke studied it closely. The picture showed a bird in flight, with long pointed wings, a dark slate-grey back and grey barring on its white undersides. The black on its head made it look like it was wearing a hood. And its feet were bright yellow.
“Impressive, Sherlock,” messaged back Luke.
“1,500 pairs. Endangered. Flies up to 200mph.”
Luke had to laugh at his friend’s enthusiasm, although even he had to agree that this was a really cool discovery. Normally, their adventures in the quarry consisted of skimming flat stones across the green pool that collected drainage water from the quarry.
“Swallowed Google again?”
“Check it out tomorrow?” replied Charlie, ignoring his friend’s jibe.
“Sure. Meet at the bridge, 10am.”
“Bring your bins.”
By 10.30 the next morning, the boys were back by the ‘DANGER! QUARRY Keep Out’ sign. They peered into the quarry carefully. No sign of security men or vehicles.
Keeping low, they skirted round the edge of the quarry to their usual hideout spot. Every now and then their shoes dislodged a stone over the edge, which bounced down the cliff face and fell with a splash into the pool at the bottom.
The quarry was shaped like a horseshoe with steep cliffs on the two straight sides where the limestone rock had been blasted out, and a curved section that joined them with a gradual slope down to the quarry bottom.
It was on a grassy plateau at the top of this that the boys settled, pulling out the binoculars from Luke’s rucksack.
“Can you see it?” asked Charlie.
Luke handed the binoculars to his friend, who carefully scanned the quarry. The cliff face was criss-crossed by fissures and flung into intermittent shadow as clouds scudded past the sun, making it impossible to see anything.
“Nope. Nothing.” He rested the binoculars on his knees. “Where do you think it could be?”
Then they both saw it, a dark shape silhouetted against the sun, and dropping like a stone from a point high in the sky above them.
Immediately, a flock of seagulls roosting on the ground near the pool rose in a squawking, flapping cloud.
“Whoa, look at it go!” cried Charlie. “It’s heading for the gulls.”
The falcon plummeted towards the ground, wings folded back, aiming straight for the flock of gulls, which scattered in every direction. All they saw of the impact was an explosion of white feathers, then seconds later, the falcon with a gull firmly under its talons.
“That was awesome!” Charlie punched the air with excitement.
“It’s killed it,” shouted Luke. “Brutal.”
“Let’s head down now to that outcrop,” said Charlie, pointing towards a boulder the size of a small car near the bottom of the slope. “We should be out of sight of the falcon, and we’ll get a much better view of it from there.”
They cast a hasty glance towards the quarry entrance. Nearby was a blue portable cabin that served as an office for staff and lined up next to it, a row of yellow diggers and tractors. No one was in sight.
“It’s Saturday,” stated Luke. “No one works here at the weekend. We should be fine.”
They scrambled cautiously down the rocky slope until they reached the bottom, stopping occasionally to check that the falcon was still in position. From behind the boulder, they had a perfect view of the bird.
Holding the gull in its talons, the falcon was tearing off morsels of flesh with its hooked bill before swallowing them with a gulp.
The boys watched in fascination.
“This is unbelievable,” whispered Charlie.
“It’s disgusting more like,” replied Luke, scrunching up his face in mock horror. “Its feet are covered in blood.”
They continued to watch as the falcon systematically dismembered the gull before eating it. Every few seconds, the falcon would look up and check for danger, sometimes fixing its yellow-ringed eyes straight at the spot where the boys were crouching.
After twenty minutes or so, all that was left was the gull’s beak and its two webbed feet. A pile of white and grey feathers lay in a circle round the spectacle like a macabre spotlight. Then in the blink of an eye, the falcon took off and was gone.
“Where’s it now?” Charlie twisted round and started checking the skies for the bird.
“I think it’s over there,” replied Luke, holding the binoculars with one hand and pointing with his other.
Charlie followed the direction of his finger and found himself staring into the middle of the cliff. “What do you mean?” he asked, sounding puzzled. “I can’t see anything.”
“Can you see that small bush growing out of the rock?” Luke passed over the binoculars.
“Yep.”
“Well, look immediately to your right. There are white streaks trailing down the limestone. I can see something moving around what looks like a ledge.”
“Oh, yes,” exclaimed Charlie, finally able to see what Luke had observed. “What’s it doing there?”
“What if it’s nesting? What if that falcon made that kill because it has young to feed? Maybe we’re looking at its chicks.”
Charlie looked at his friend in admiration. “Now who’s the detective? This is very cool! Not a word to anyone. It needs to be our secret.”
The boys were so engrossed in their conversation that they heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel behind them far too late.
A shadow fell across the ground. “And what secret would that be?”
The boys stood up and turned round to face their inquisitor, with Luke swiftly hiding his binoculars from view behind his back.
The man was tall, in his thirties, and wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with a pair of binoculars slung round his neck on a strap. He didn’t look like someone from the quarry thought Charlie.
“What are you doing here?” asked the man. “This is private land and you’re trespassing.”
“Just exploring,” answered Luke confidently. Charlie glanced at his friend appreciatively. He was good at getting them out of scrapes, which was fortunate because they were often in them.
The man eyed them quizzically. “Did you see what happened there?” He nodded towards the pile of feathers.
“Nope,” said the boys together, shaking their heads to emphasise the point.
“Hmmm. And the binoculars are for…?”
“Checking to see if anyone’s coming,” replied Luke as cool as a cucumber, placing them round his neck once more and cleaning the lens with his sleeve.
The man chuckled. “You two don’t like giving anything away, do you?”
Just then, there was an urgent rasping call from the cliffs. Without hesitation, both the boys and the man immediately looked round. This time the man laughed out loud.
“I have a funny feeling that we’re here for the same reason.”
He could see their guarded expressions immediately relax into one of curiosity, although a door slamming in the distance caused the wariness to return to the boys’ faces.
They exchanged glances as they spotted an older man wearing a yellow safety helmet striding towards them. This looked like trouble, thought Charlie.
The two men shook hands. “Who are these two?” The newcomer nodded towards the boys.
“I’ve a feeling they might be able to help us,” said the younger man, smiling. He addressed the boys: “I’m a warden for the RSPB and I’m here to develop a plan to protect a very special bird that has set up home here unexpectedly. George, here, is one of the quarry foremen. He spotted them the other day and called me.”
He looked at the boys. “Any idea what bird that might be?”
“Peregrine Falcon,” said Charlie immediately. “It’s endangered, only 1,500 pairs left in the UK. The pair mate for life and these ones are nesting - over there.” He pointed to the cliff.
The warden grinned. “I thought that’s the reason you were here. One of the issues we have is finding enough volunteers to help run a protection scheme. So, I have a proposition…how would you two like to become RSPB volunteers and help us look after this nest site?”
The boys looked at each other with delight and nodded in unison. “There’ll be a few details to sort out, such as checking with your...” The boys were on their mobile phones to their parents before he had finished speaking.
“I think you’ll make excellent wardens. And one thing is for sure…you know how to keep a secret!”