Easy Prey
by
R. Brian Campbell
A shadow passed across him as Mr. Beaver was touching up a spot on the side of his lodge. He looked up and sighed. “Not again.” He slapped the water with his tail, just hard enough to get his wife’s attention.
Mrs. Beaver looked over from watching their children playing. “What is it, honey?”
Mr. Beaver gestured upwards. “That eagle is back. Get the kids inside. I’ll spread the word.”
“Yes, dear. Be careful. You know he’s still mad from the last time. Kids. Come inside the den. Quickly.”
“Awe. Mom,” one whined. “Do we have to?”
“Yes, Bucky. You do. Now, all of you. Inside.” She waited until they had all ducked under the water before joining them.
Mr. Beaver lifted his tail and slapped the water. Hard. The sound echoed down the river and all the animals congregating at the river looked up, then rushed for cover. Mice, squirrels and rabbits ducked under nearby bushes and grasses, or rushed for their dens. Birds flew for the safety of thick foliage. In moments, the only creatures remaining were Mr. Beaver and a deer couple who had nothing to fear from a bird of prey.
Mr. Eagle glided down and settled on top of Mr. Beaver’s den. “Beaver! You’ve chased off all my prey!”
“As always, Eagle, your grasp of the obvious is 20/20.”
“Why did you do that? You knew I was hunting.”
“You were hunting my neighbours. You don’t live here anymore, they do. I protect my neighbours.”
Mr. Eagle ruffled his feathers in irritation. “I don’t live here anymore because you cut down my tree. I had to find another suitable one downstream.”
Mr. Beaver turned up his nose and sniffed noisily. “Whatever. The point is, they are my neighbours and I like them.”
“Those little meat packages? What’s so likeable about them?”
“For one thing, they aren’t constantly annoying me with endless complaints.” Mr. Beaver glared at him.
Mr. Eagle gazed across the water and smiled, his sharp eyes gleaming. “Yeah, whatever. At any rate, you failed. Looks like someone ignored your warning.”
Mr. Beaver followed his stare, his eyes coming to rest on a large, long necked bird calmly swimming along the far edge of the river. “Who? Carey?” He shook his head. “Uh, uh. I’d stay far away from him if I were you.”
“That’s the difference between you and me. I’m not a cowardly rodent like you.” Mr. Eagle’s powerful wings lifted him high into the air, where he began to spiral around his intended target.
“No, you’re not,” Mr. Beaver said, quietly. “You are a large arrogant bird, who is about to make a huge mistake.”
Mr. Eagle lined up his target, lifted his wings and dropped in a freefalling dive, sharp talons extended, aiming at the broad expanse of exposed back.
He almost made contact when the head pivoted to glare straight at him. The mouth opened and hissed. A large wing struck suddenly, knocking his talons aside. Mr. Eagle had to struggle to keep from hitting the water head first. Before he could fully recover, he was being pummeled by a pair of incredibly long, powerful and fast wings. He lashed back with his beak and talons, tearing off feathers and drawing blood, but it wasn’t enough. Those wings connected with his head so many times that he was seeing bright dots everywhere and he was having trouble telling which way was up. The whole time it was screaming at him, making the most horrible noise he had ever heard. No matter what he did, it continued screaming and battering him. If this creature managed to get him underwater it would be all over. He was already soaked from the water splashing up from those wings; wings that were hitting him over and over and over again. He needed to get out of here.
Mr. Eagle broke free and shot upwards as fast as his wings would lift him. Once he gained a safe altitude, he circled a few times, trying to regain his bearings, then flew, unsteadily, back towards his nest.
Mr. Beaver swam over to where Carey Canada Goose was splashing water on his wounds and attempting to calm himself down. “Are you okay, Carey?”
“Just some feathers ruffled,” Carey responded. “I’ll be fine in a bit. What was that all about?”
“That was Eagle,” Mr. Beaver told him. “He lives down river and often comes this way, looking for easy prey.”
Carey hissed. “Easy prey my tail feathers. I hope I taught him that just because we aren’t predators, that doesn’t make us easy prey.”
“It’s possible,” Mr. Beaver sighed. “But to be honest, I’m not convinced that he is capable of learning anything that doesn’t fit his beliefs.”