explain to her that the birds were locked together seventy feet above
the earth. The hole of the leadwood was smooth and without branches for
the first fifty feet of its height. It would take days of effort to
reach the birds, and by then it would be too late.
Even if one could reach them, darling, they are two wild creatures,
fierce and dangerous, those beaks and talons could tear the eyes out of
your head or rip you to the bone, nature does not like interference in
her designs. Isn't there anything we can do? she pleaded.
Yes, he answered quietly. Ve can come back in the morning to see if he
has been able to free himself. But we will bring a gun with us, in case
he has not. in the dawn they came together to the leadwood tree.
The young bird was dead, hanging limp and graceless, but the old bird
was still alive, linked by his claws to the carcass of the other, weak
and dying but, with the furious yellow flames still burning in his eyes.
He heard their voices and twisted the shaggy old head and opened his
beak in a last defiant cry.
David loaded the shotgun, snapping the barrels closed and staring up at
the old eagle. Not you alone, old friend, he thought, and he lifted the
gun to his shoulder and hit him with two charges of buckshot. They left
him hanging in tatters with trailing wings and the quick patter of blood
slowing to a dark steady drip. David felt as though he had destroyed a
part of himself in that blast of gunfire, and the shadow of it was cast
over the bright days that followed.
These few days sped past too swiftly for David, and when they were
almost gone he and Debra spent the last of them wandering together
across Jabulani, visiting each of their special places and seeking out
the various herds or individual animals almost as if they were taking
farewell of old friends. In the evening they came to the place amongst
the fever trees beside the pools, and they sat there until the sun had
fallen below the earth in a splendour of purples and muted pinks. Then
the mosquitoes began whining about their heads, and they strolled back
hand in hand and came to the homestead in the dark.
They packed their bags that night and left them on the stoop, ready for
an early start. Then they drank champagne beside the barbecue fire. The
wine lifted their mood and they laughed together in their little island
of firelight in the vast ocean of the African night - but for David
there were echoes from the laughter, and he was aware of a sense of
finality, of an ending of something and a new beginning.
When they took off from the landing-strip in the early morning, David
circled twice over the estate, climbing slowly, and the pools glinted
like gunmetal amongst the hills as the low sun touched them. The land
was lush with the severe unpromising shade of green, so different from
that of the lands of the northern hemisphere, and the servants stood in
the yard of the homestead, shading their eyes and waving up at them,
their shadows lying long and narrow against the ruddy earth.
David came around and steadied on course.
Cape Town, here we come, he said, and Debra smiled and reached across to
lay her hand upon his leg in warm and companionable silence.
They had the suite at the Mount Nelson Hotel, preferring its ancient
