The Birds | Suspense Story | Podcast - Nightshade Diary

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:28):
From the macabre minds of Laughing Devil production. Comes another
story from the night Shade Diary. You know what that means.
Check under the bed and make sure no one or
nothing is there. Is the closet door securely shut. Then
leave your disbelief behind, amp up your imagination and hang

(00:49):
on tight for another ride into terror and mystery. And
like all good horror stories, just imagine it's a dark
and stormy night, and remember screaming like a little girl
is permitted. The Birds by Daphne du Marie on December

(01:18):
the third, the wind changed overnight and it was winter.
Until then, the autumn had been mellow soft. The leaves
had lingered on the trees gold and red, and the
hedgerows were still green. The earth was rich, or the
plow had turned it. Nat Hockin, because of a wartime disability,

(01:41):
had a pension and did not work full time at
the farm. He worked three days a week, and they
gave him the lighter jobs hedging, thatching repairs to the
farm buildings. Although he was married with children, his was
a solitary disposition. He liked best to work alone. It
pleased them when he was given a bank to build

(02:03):
up or a gate to men at the far end
of the peninsula, where the sea surrounded the farm land
on either side. Then at midday he would pause and
eat the pasty that his wife had baked for him, and,
sitting on the cliff's edge, would watch the birds. Autumn
was best for this, better than spring. In spring, the

(02:24):
birds flew inland purposeful intent. They knew where they were bound.
The rhythm and ritual of their life brooked no delay.
In autumn, those that had once migrated over seas but
remained to pass the winter were caught up in the
same driving urge. But because migration was denied them, following

(02:49):
a pattern of their own, great flocks of them came
to the peninsula restless, uneasy, spending themselves in motion, now wheeling,
circling in the sky, now settling to feed on the
rich u turned soil. But even when they fed, it
was as though they did so without hunger, without desire.

(03:13):
Restlessness drove them to the skies again. Black and white,
jack dall and gull mingled in strange partnership, seeking some
sort of liberation, never satisfied, never still, flocks of starlings,
rustling like silk, flew to fresh pasture, driven by the

(03:34):
same necessity of movement, and the smaller birds, the finches
and the larks, scattered from tree to hedge as if compelled.
Nat watched them, and he watched the sea birds too.
Down in the hay, they waited for the tide. They
had more patience. Oystercatchers, red shank, sandaling and curlew watched

(03:58):
by the water's edge as a slow sea sucked at
the shore and then withdrew, leaving the strip of seaweed
bear and the shingle churned. The sea birds raced and
ran upon the beaches. Then that same impulse to flight
seized upon them too. Crying, whistling, calling, they skimmed the

(04:19):
placid sea and left the shore. Make haste, make speed,
hurry and be gone. Yet where and to what purpose?
The restless urge of autumn, unsatisfying sad, have put a
spell upon them, And they must flock and wheel and cry.

(04:41):
They must spill themselves of motion before winter came, Perhaps
thought Nat, munching his pasty by the cliff's edge. A
messenger comes to the birds in autumn, like a warning
winter is coming. Many of them perish, and like people
who apprehensive of death, before their time, drive themselves to

(05:03):
work or folly the birds do. Likewise, the birds had
been more restless than ever this fall of that year,
the agitation more marked because the days were still. As
a tractor traced its path up and down the western hills,
the figure of the farmer silhouetted on the driving seat.

(05:25):
The whole machine and the man upon it would be
lost momentarily in the great cloud of wheeling, crying birds.
There were many more than usual. Nat was sure of this.
Always in autumn they followed the plow, not in great
flocks like these, not with such clamor. Nat remarked upon it,

(05:48):
when hedging was finished for the day. Yes, said the farmer,
there are more birds about than usual. I've noticed it too,
and daring some of them take to notice of the tractor.
One or two gulls came so close to my hand
this afternoon I thought they'd knocked my cap off. As

(06:09):
it was, I could scarcely see what I was doing
when they were overhead and I had the sun in
my eyes. I have a notion the weather will change.
It will be a hard winter. That's why the birds
are restless. Nat tramping home across the fields, and down
the lane to his cottage, saw the birds still flocking

(06:32):
over the western hills, and the glass glow of the sun.
No wind, and the gray sea calm and full campion
in bloom yet in the hedges, and the air mild.
The farmer was right, though, and it was the night
the weather turned. In that's bedroom faced east, he woke

(06:53):
just after two and heard the wind in the chimney,
not the storm and bluster of a southwestern gale bringing
the rain, but east wind, cold and dry. It sounded
hollow in the chimney, and a loose late rattled on
the roof. Nat listened, and he could hear the sea

(07:13):
roaring in the bay. Even the air in the small
bedroom had turned chill. A draft came under the skirting
of the door, blowing upon the bed. Nat drew the
blanket around him, leaned closer to the back of a
sleeping wife, and stayed wakeful, watchful, aware of misgiving without cause.

(07:36):
Then he heard the tapping on the window. There was
no creeper on the cottage walls to break loose and
scratch upon the pane. He listened, and the tapping continued
until irritated by the sound, NT got out of bed
and went to the window. He opened it, and as
he did so, something brushed his hand, jabbing at his knuckles,

(07:59):
grazing the skin. Then he saw the flutter of the wings,
and it was gone over the roof behind the cottage.
It was a bird. What kind of bird, he could
not tell. The wind must have driven it to shelter
on the hill. He shut the window and went back
to bed, but, feeding his knuckles wet, put his mouth

(08:20):
to the scratch the bird had drawn blood. Frightened, he supposed,
and bewildered the bird seeking shelter had stabbed at him
in the darkness. Once more, he settled himself to sleep. Presently,
the tapping came again, this time more forceful, more insistent,
And now his wife woke at the sound, and, turning

(08:42):
to the bed, said to him, see to the window,
nat it's rattling. I've already seen to it. He told her.
There's some bird there trying to get in. Can't you
hear the wind? It's blowing from the east and driving
the birds to shelter. Send them away, she said. He
can't sleep with that noise. He went to the window

(09:03):
for the second time, and now when he opened it.
There was not one bird upon the sill, but half
a dozen. They flew straight into his face, attacking him.
He shouted, striking out at them with his arms, scattering
them like the first one. They flew over the roof
and disappeared quickly. He let the window fall and latched it.

(09:28):
Did you hear that, he said? They went for me,
Try to peck my eyes. He stood by the window,
peering into the darkness and could see nothing. His wife,
heavy with sleep, murmured from the bed. I'm not making
it up, he said, angry at her suggestion. I tell
you the birds were on the sill trying to get

(09:50):
into the room. Suddenly a frightened cry came from the
room across the passage where the children slept. It's Jill, said,
His wife, roused at the sound, sitting up in bed.
Go to her, see what's the matter. Nat lit the candle,
but when he opened the bedroom door to cross the passage,
the draft blew out the flame. There came a second

(10:11):
cry of terror, this time from both children, and stumbling
into their room, he felt the beating of wings about
him in the darkness. The window was wide open. Through
it came the birds, hitting first the ceiling, then the walls,
and swerving in mid flight, turning to the children in
their beds, It's all right, I'm here, shouted Nat, and

(10:32):
the children flung themselves screaming upon him, while in the
darkness the birds rose and dived and came for him again.
What is it, Nat? What happened? His wife called from
the further room, And swiftly he pushed the children through
the door to the passage and shut it upon them,
so that he was alone now in their bedroom with
the birds. He seized the blanket from the nearest bed, and,

(10:53):
using as a weapon, flung it to right and left
about him. In the air. He felt the thud of bodies,
heard the fluttering of wings, but they were not yet defeated,
for again and again they returned to the assault. Jabbing
his hands his head, the little stabbing beaks sharp as
pointed forks. The blanket became a weapon of defense. He

(11:15):
round it abound his head, and then, in greater darkness,
beat at the birds with his bare hands. He dared
not stumble to the floor and open it, lest in
doing so the birds should follow him. How long he
fought with them in the darkness, he could not tell.
But at last the beating of the wings about him
lessened and then withdrew, and through the density of the

(11:37):
blanket he was aware of light. He waited listen. There
was no sound except the fretful crying of one of
the children from the bedroom beyond the fluttering. The whirring
of the wings had ceased. He took the blanket from
his head and stared about him. The cold, gray morning
light exposed the room. Dawn in the open window had

(11:57):
called the living birds lay on the floor. Nat gazed
at the little corpses, shocked and horrified. They were all
small birds, none of any size. There must have been
fifty of them lying there upon the floor. There were robins, finches, sparrows,
blue tits, larks, and brambling birds that, by nature's lock

(12:23):
kept to their own flock and their own territory, and
now joining one more than another in their urge for battle,
had destroyed themselves against the bedroom walls, or in the strife,
had been destroyed by him. Some had lost feathers in
the fight, others had blood his blood upon their beaks. Sickened,

(12:44):
Nat went to the window and stared out across the
patch of garden to the fields. It was bitter cold,
and the ground had all the hard black look of frost.
Not white frosts to shine in the morning sun, but
the black frost that the east wind brings. The sea
fiercer now with a turning tide, white capped and steep,

(13:06):
broke harshly in the bay of the birds. There was
no sign. Not a sparrow chattered in the hedge beyond
the garden gate, No early misthrush or blackbird pecked in
the grass for worms. There was no sound at all
but the east wind and the sea. Nat shut the
window and the door of the small bedroom and went

(13:27):
back across the passage to his own. His wife sat
up in bed when child asleep beside her, the smaller
in her arms, his face bandaged. The curtains were tightly
drawn across the window, the candles lit. Her face looked
garish in the yellow light. She shook her head for silence.

(13:49):
He's sleeping now, she whispered, but only just Something must
have cut him. There was blood at the corner of
his eyes. Jill said it was the birds, She said.
She woke up and the birds were in the room.
His wife looked up at Nat searching his face for confirmation.
She looked terrified, bewildered, and he did not want her

(14:13):
to know that he was also shaken, dazed, almost by
the events of the past three hours. There are birds
in there, he said, dead birds, nearly fifty of them, robins.
RAN's all the little birds from hereabouts. It's as though
a madness seized them with the east wind. He sat

(14:33):
down the bed beside his wife and held her hand.
If the weather, he said, it must be that it's
the hard weather. They aren't the birds, maybe from here round.
They've been driven down from up country. But Nat, whispered
his wife, it's only this night that the weather turned.

(14:57):
There's been no snow to drive them an they can't
be hungry yet, there's food for them out there in
the fields. It's the weather, repeated Nat, I tell you,
it's the weather. His face too, was drawn and tired
like hers. They stared at one another for a while
without speaking. I'll go downstairs and make a cup of tea,

(15:20):
he said. The sight at the kitchen reassured him. The
cups and saucers neatly stacked upon the dresser, the table
in chairs, his wife roll of knitting on her basket chair,
the children's toys in a corner cupboard. He knelt down,
raked out the old embers, and re lit the fire.

(15:41):
The glowing sticks brought normality, The steaming kettle and the
brown teapot comfort and security. He drank his tea, carried
a cup up to his wife. Then he washed in
the scullery and put on his boots. Opened the back door.
The sky was hard and leaden, and the brown hills

(16:01):
that had gleamed in the sun the day before looked
dark and bare. The east wind, like a razor, stripped
the trees, and the leaves, crackling and dry, shivered and
scattered with the wind's blast. Nat stubbed the earth with
his boot. It was frozen hard. He had never known
a change so swift and sudden. Black winter had descended

(16:24):
in a single night. The children were awake now, Jill
was chattering upstairs, and young Johnny crying. Once again, Nat
heard his wife's voice, soothing, comforting. Presently they came down.
He had breakfast ready for them, and the routine of
the day began. Did you drive away the birds? Asked?

(16:44):
Jill restored to calm because of the kitchen fire, Because
of day because of breakfast. Yes, they've all gone now,
said Nat. It was the east wind brought them in.
They were frightened and lost. They wanted shelter. They tried
to peck us, said Jill. They went for Johnny's eyes.

(17:08):
Fright made them do that, said Nat. They didn't know
where they were in the dark bedroom. I hope they
won't come again, said Jill, because if we put bread
for them outside the window, they will eat that and
fly away. She finished her breakfast and then went for
her coat and hood, her schoolbooks and her satchel. Nat

(17:31):
said nothing, but his wife looked at him across the table.
A silent message passed between them. I'll walk with her
to the bus, he said, I don't go to the
farm today, And while the child was washing in the scullery,
he said to his wife keep all the windows closed
and the doors too, just to be on the safe side.

(17:55):
I'll go to the farm find out if they heard
anything in the night. Then walked with a small daughter
up the lane. She seemed to have forgotten her experience
of the night before. She danced ahead of him, chasing
the leaves, her face whipped with the cold and rosy
under the pixie hood. Is it going to snow, dad,

(18:15):
She said, it's cold enough. He glanced up at the
bleak sky, felt the wind tear at his shoulders. No,
he said, it's not going to snow. This is a
black winter, not a white one. All the while, he
searched the hedge grove for the birds, glanced over the
top of them to the fields beyond, looked to the

(18:36):
small wood above the farm where the rooks and jack
dolls gathered. He saw none. The other children waited by
the bus stop, muffled, hooded like Jill, their faces white
and pinched with cold chill. Ran to them, waving. My
dad says it won't snow, she called, It's going to
be a black winter. She said nothing of The birds

(18:59):
began to push and struggle with another little girl. The
buzz came ambling up the hill. Nat saw her on
to it, then turned and walked back towards the farm.
It was not his day for work, but he wanted
to satisfy himself that all was well. Jim, the cowman
was clattering in the yard. Boss around, asked. Nat gone

(19:23):
to market, said Jim, it's Tuesday, isn't it. He clumped
off round the corner of a shed. He had no
time for Nat. Nat was said to be superior read
books and the like. Nat had forgotten it was Tuesday.
This showed how the events of the preceding night had
shaken him. He went to the back door of the

(19:44):
farmhouse and heard Missus Trigg singing in the kitchen, the
wireless making a background to her song. Are you there, Missus,
called out Nat. She came to the door, beaming broad
a good tempered woman. Hello, mister Hawkin, she said, can
you tell me where this cold is coming from? Is

(20:05):
it Russia? I've never seen such a change, and it's
going on the wireless says something to do with the
Arctic Circle. We didn't turn on the wireless this morning,
said Nat. Fact is we had trouble in the night.
Kitties poorly, No, he hardly knew how to explain it.

(20:27):
Now in daylight, the battle of the birds would sound absurd.
He tried to tell Missus Trigg what had happened, but
he could see from her eyes that she thought his
story was the result of a nightmare. Sure there were
real birds, she said, smiling, with proper feathers and all,
not that funny shaped kind that the Menzie when closing

(20:48):
hours on a Saturday night, Missus Triggy said, they're fifty
dead birds, robins, wrens and such lying low on the
floor of the children's bedroom. They went for me. They
tried to go free young Johnny's eyes. Missus Triggs stared
at him doubtfully. Well there now, she answered, I suppose

(21:09):
the weather brought them once in the bedroom. They wouldn't
know where they were to foreign birds, may be from
that Arctic circle, No, said Nat. They were the birds
you see about here every day. Funny thing, said Missus
trigg No explaining it. Really, you ought to write it
up and ask the Guardian. They'd have some answer for it. Well,

(21:33):
I must be getting on. She nodded, smiled, and went
back into the kitchen. Nat, dissatisfied, turned to the farm gate.
Had it not been for those corpses on the bedroom floor,
which she must not collect and bury somewhere, he would
have considered the tail exaggeration too. Jim was standing at

(21:54):
the gate, had any trouble with the birds? Asked Nat? Birds?
What birds? We got them up our place? Last night?
Scores of them came into the children's bedroom quite savage.
They were Oh, it took time for anything to penetrate
Jim's head. Never heard of birds acting savage, he said

(22:18):
at length. They get tame like sometimes. I've seen them
come to the windows for crumbs. The birds last night
weren't tame. No called, maybe hungry you put out some crumbs.
Jim was no more interested than Missus Trigg had been.

(22:38):
It was ned thought like air raids in the war.
None down this end of the country knew what the
Plymouth folk had seen and suffered. Ye had to endure
something yourself before touched you. He walked back along the
lane and crossed the stile to his cottage. He found
his wife in the kitchen with young Johnny. See any one,

(22:59):
she asked Missus Trigg and Jim. He answered, I don't
think they believed me anyway. Nothing wrong up there. You
might take the birds away, she said, I daren't go
into the room to make the beds until you do.
I'm scared. Nothing to scare you, now, said Nat. They're dead,
aren't they. He went up with a sack and dropped

(23:22):
the stiff bodies into it, one by one. Yes, there
were fifty of them, all told, just the ordinary common
birds of the hedge grow nothing as large even as
a thrush. It must have been fright that made them
act the way they did. Blue tits runs. It was
incredible to think of the power of their small beaks
jabbing at his face and hands. The night before, he

(23:46):
took the sack out into the garden and was faced
now with a fresh problem. The ground was too hard
to dig. It was frozen solid. Yet no snow had fallen.
Nothing had happened in the past hour but the coming
of the east wind. It was unnatural. Queer the weather
prophets might be right. The change was something connected with

(24:10):
the Arctic circle. The whim seemed to cut him to
the bone. As he stood there, uncertainly holding the sack,
he could see the white capped seas breaking down under
in the bay. He decided to take the birds to
the shore and bury them. When he reached the beach
below the headland, he could scarcely stand. The force of

(24:31):
the east wind was so strong it hurt to draw breath,
and his bare hands were blue. Never had he known
such cold, not in all the bad winters he could remember.
It was low tide. He crunched his way over the
shingle to the softer sand, and then his back to
the wind ground a pit in the sand with his heel.

(24:53):
He meant to drop the birds into it, but as
he opened up the sack, the force of the wind
carried them, lifted them as though in flight again, and
they were blown away from him along the beach, tossed
like feathers, spread and scattered the bodies of the fifty
frozen birds. There was something ugly in the sight. He

(25:14):
did not like it. The dead birds were swept away
from him by the wind. The tide will take them
when it turns, he said to himself. He looked out
to sea and watched the crested breakers combing green. They
rose stiffly, curled, and broke again. And because it was ebtigh,
the roar was distant, more remote, lacking the sound and

(25:37):
thunder of the flood. Then he saw them, the gulls
out there riding the seas. What he had thought at
first to be the white caps of the waves were gulls, hundreds, thousands,
tens of thousands. They rose and fell on the trough
of the seas, heads to the wind, like a mighty

(25:58):
fleet at anchor, waiting on the tide to eastward. And
to the west. The gulls were there. They stretched as
far as his eye could reach, in close formation, lying
upon line. Had the sea been still, they would have
covered the bay like a white cloud, head to head,

(26:18):
body packed to body. Only the east wind, whipping the
sea to breakers, hid them from the shore. Nat turned, and,
leaving the beach, climbed the steep path home. Someone should
know this, someone should be told something was happening because
of the wind and the weather that he did not understand.

(26:41):
He wondered if he should go to the call box
by the bus stop and ring up the police. Yet
what could they do, What could anyone do tens of
thousands of gulls riding the sea there in the bay
because of storm, because of hunger. The police would think
him mad or drunk, or take the statement from him
with great calm. Thank you. Yes, the matter has already

(27:04):
been reported. The hard weather is driving the birds in
land in great numbers. Nat looked about him, still no
sign of any other birds. Perhaps the cold had sent
them all from up country. As he drew near to
the cottage's wife came to meet him at the door.
She called to him, excited, Nat. She said, it's on

(27:26):
the wireless. They've just read out a special news bulletin.
I've written it down. What's on the wireless, he said
about the birds, She said, it's not only here, it's
everywhere in London, all over the country. Something has happened
to the birds. Together they went into the kitchen. He

(27:47):
read the piece of paper lying on the table statement
from the Home Office at eleven a m to day.
Reports from all over the country are coming in hourly
about the vast quantity of birds flocking above towns, villages
and outlying districts, causing obstruction and damage, and even attacking individuals.

(28:09):
It is thought that the Arctic air stream at present
covering the British Isles is causing the birds to migrate
south in in immense numbers, and the intense hunger may
drive these birds to attack human beings. Householders are worn
to see to their windows, doors and chimneys, and to
take reasonable precautions for the safety of their children. A

(28:32):
further statement will be issued later. A kind of excitement
sees not He looked at his wife in Triumph. There
you are, he said. Let's hope they'll hear that at
the farm. Missus Trigg will know it wasn't any story.
It's true all over the country. I've been telling myself
all morning there's something wrong. And just now down the beach,

(28:55):
I looked out to sea and there are goals, thousands
of them, tens of thousands. You couldn't put a pin
between their heads. And they're all all out there writing
on the sea waiting. What are they waiting for, Nat,
she asked. He stared at her, then looked down again
at the piece of paper. I don't know, he said, slowly.

(29:19):
It says here the birds are hungry. He went over
to the door, where he kept his hammer and tools.
What are you going to do? Nat? See to the
windows and the chimneys too, Like they tell you, you think
they would break in when the windows shut. Those sparrows
and robins as such, Why how could they? He did

(29:44):
not answer. He was not thinking of the robins and
the sparrows. He was thinking of the gulls. He went
upstairs and worked there the rest of the morning, boarding
the windows of the bedroom, filling up the chimney basis
good job. It was his free day and he was
not working at the farm. It reminded him of the

(30:06):
old days at the beginning of the war. He was
not married then, and he had made all the blackout
boards for his mother's house in Plymouth, made the shelter too,
not that had been of any use. When the moment came,
he wondered if they would take these precautions up at
the farm. He doubted it too easy going Harry Trigg

(30:27):
and his missus. Maybe they'd laugh at the whole thing,
go off to a dance or a whist. Drive. Dinner's ready,
she called him from the kitchen. All right, coming down.
He was pleased with his handiwork. The frames fitted nicely
over the little panes and the basis of the chimney.

(30:49):
When dinner was over and his wife was washing up,
Nat switched on the one o'clock news. The same announcement
was repeated, the one which he had taken down during
the morning, but the news bulletin enlarged upon it. The
flocks of birds have caused dislocation in all areas, read
the announcer, And in London the sky was so dense

(31:13):
at ten o'clock this morning that it seemed as if
the city was covered by a vast black cloud. The
birds settled on rooftops, on window ledges, and on chimneys.
The species included blackbird thrush, the common house sparrow, and
as might be expected in the metropolis, a vast quantity

(31:35):
of pigeons and starlings, and that frequenter of the London River,
the black headed gull. The site has been so unusual
that traffic came to a standstill in many thoroughfares. Work
was abandoned in shops and offices, and the streets and
pavements were crowded with people standing about to watch the birds.

(31:56):
Various incidents were recounted, the suspected reason of cold and
hunger stated again, and warnings to householders repeated. The announcer's
voice was smooth and suave. Nt had the impression that
this man in particular cheated the whole business, as he
would an elaborate choke. There would be others like him,

(32:17):
hundreds of them who did not know what it was
to struggle in the darkness with a flock of birds.
There would be parties tonight in London, like the ones
they gave on election nights, people standing about, shouting and laughing,
getting drunk. Come and watch the birds. Nat switched off
the wireless. He got up and started work. On the

(32:39):
kitchen windows. His wife watched him, young Johnny at her heels.
What boards for down here too? She said, Why I'll
have to light up before three o'clock. I see no
call for boards down here. Better be sure than sorry,
answered Nat. I'm not going to take any chances. What

(33:03):
they ought to do, she said, is to call the
army out and shoot the birds. That would soon scare
them off. Let them try, said Nat. How they set
about it? They have the army to the docks, she answered,
When the dockers strike, the soldiers go down and unload
the ships. Yes, said Nat. And the population of London

(33:25):
is eight million or more. Think of all the buildings,
all the flats and houses. Do you think they've enough
soldiers to go round showing birds from every roof? I
don't know, but something should be done. They ought to
do something. Nat thought to himself that they were, no
doubt considering the problem at that very moment. But whatever

(33:49):
they decided to do in London and the big cities
would not help the people here three hundred miles away.
Each householder must look after his own. How are we
off for food? He said? Now? Nat? Whatever next? Never mind?
What have you got in the larder a shopping day tomorrow.

(34:13):
You know that I don't keep uncooked food hanging about.
It goes off. Butcher doesn't call to the day after.
But I can bring back something when I go in tomorrow.
Nat did not want to scare her. He thought it
possible that she might not go to town tomorrow. He looked

(34:35):
in the laughter for himself, and in the cupboard where
she kept her tins. They would do for a couple
of days. Bread was low. What about the baker, he
comes tomorrow too. He saw she had flower If the
baker did not call, she had enough to bake one loaf.

(34:55):
We'd better be off in old days, he said, when
the women baked twice a week and had pilchers salted,
and there was food for a family to last the siege,
if need be. I've tried the children with tin fish.
They don't like it, she said. Nat went on hammering
the boards across the kitchen windows. Candles. They were low

(35:16):
in candles too. That must be another thing she meant
to buy tomorrow. Well, it could not be helped. They
must go early to bed to night. That was if
he got up and went out of the back door
and stood in the garden, looking down towards the sea.
There had been no sun all day, and now, at
barely three o'clock, a kind of darkness had already come.

(35:40):
The sky sullen, heavy, colorless, like salt. He could hear
the vicious sea drumming on the rocks. He walked on
the path half way to the beach, and then he stopped.
He could see the tide had turned. The rock that
had shone at mid morning was not covered. But it
was not the sea that held his eyes. The gulls

(36:01):
had risen. They were circling, hundreds of them, thousands of them,
lifting their wings against the wind. It was the gulls
that made the darkening of the sky, and they were silent.
They made not a sound. They just went on soaring
and circling, rising, falling, trying to strength against the wind.

(36:25):
Nat turned he ran up the path back to the cottage.
I'm going for Jill, he said. I'll wait for her
at the bus stop. What's the matter, asked his wife.
You've gone quite white. Keep Johnny inside, he said, Keep
the door shut, light up now, and draw the curtains.

(36:47):
It's only just gone through. She said, Never mind, do
what I tell you. He looked inside the tool shed
outside the back door. Nothing there of much use. A
spade was too heavy, and a fork no good. He
took the hoe. It was the only possible tool ENLiGHT
enough to carry. He started walking up the lane to

(37:08):
the bus stop, and now and again glanced back over
his shoulder. The gulls had risen higher. Now their circles
were broader, wider. They were spreading out in huge formation
across the sky. He hurried on, although he knew the
bus would not come to the top of the hill
before four o'clock. He had to hurry. He passed no

(37:29):
one on his way. He was glad of this. No
time to stop and chatter At the top of the hill.
He waited. He was much too soon. There was half
an hour still to go. The east wind came whipping
across the fields from the higher ground. He stamped his
feet and blew upon his hands. In the distance, he
could see the clay hills, white and clean against the

(37:52):
heavy pallor of the sky. Something black rose from behind them,
like a smudge at first, then widening, becoming deeper, and
the smudge became a cloud, and the cloud divided against
into five other clouds spreading northeast, south and west, and
they were not clouds at all. They were birds. He

(38:15):
watched them travel across the sky, and as one section
passed overhead within two or three hundred feet of him,
he knew from their speed they were bound inland, up country.
They had no business with the people. Here on the peninsula.
There were rooks, crows, jackdaws, magpies, jays, all birds that

(38:37):
usually preyed upon the smaller species. But this afternoon they
were bound on some other mission they've been given the towns, thought, Nat,
they know what they have to do. We don't matter
so much here. The gulls will serve for us. The
others go to the towns. He went to the call box,

(38:59):
stepped inside, and lifted the receiver. The exchange would do,
they would pass the information on. I'm speaking from highway,
he said, by the bus stop. I want to report
large formations of birds traveling up country. The gulls are
also forming in the bay. All right, answered a voice, laconic, weary.

(39:22):
You'll be sure and pass this message on to the
proper quarter. Yes, yes, impatient, Now fed up, the buzzing
note resumed. She's another thought, Nat, She doesn't care. Maybe
she's had to answer calls all day. She hopes to
go to the pictures tonight. She'll squeeze some fellow's hand
and point up at the sky and look at all

(39:45):
them birds. She doesn't care. The bus came lumbering up
the hill. Jill climbed out and threw her four other children.
The bus went on towards the town. What's the hoe for, dad?
They crowded around him, laughing, pointed, I just brought her along.

(40:05):
He said, come on now, let's get home. It's cold.
No hanging about, hear you. I'll watch across the fields,
see how fast you can run. He was speaking to
Jill's companions, who came from different families living in the
council houses. A short cut would take them to the cottages.
We want to play a bit in the lane, said

(40:27):
one of them. No you don't. You go off home,
or I'll tell your mammy. They whispered to one another,
round eyed, then scuttled off across the fields. Jill stared
at her father, her mouth sullen. We always play in
the lanes, she said, not tonight, you don't. He said,
come on now, no dawdling. He could see the goals

(40:49):
now circling the fields, coming in towards the land, still silent, still,
no sound. Look, Dad, look over there, Look at all
the goals. Yes, hurry, Now where are they flying to?
Where are they going? Up country? I dare say where?
It's warmer. He seized her hand and dragged her after

(41:12):
him along the lane. Don't go so fast, I can't
keep up. The gulls were copying the rooks and crows.
They were spreading out information across the sky. They headed
in bands of thousands to the four compass points, Dad,
what is it? What are the gulls doing? They were

(41:34):
not intent upon their flight as the crows, as the
jack dolls had been. They still circled overhead, nor did
they fly so high. It was as though they waited
upon some signal, as though some decision had yet to
be given. The order was not clear. Do you want

(41:55):
me to carry you? Jill? Here? Come pick a back
this way? He might put on speed, but he was wrong.
Jill was heavy, She kept slipping, and she was crying too.
His sense of urgency of fear had communicated itself to
the child. I wish the gulls would go away. I

(42:15):
don't like them. They're coming closer to the lane. He
put her down again. He started running, swinging Jill after him.
As they went past the farm, turning, he saw the
farmer backing his car out of the garage. Nat called
to him, Can you give us a lift? He said?
What's that? Mister Trigg turned in the driving seat and

(42:38):
stared at them. Then a smile came to his cheerful,
rubicund face. It looks as though we're in for some fun,
he said. Have you seen the gulls? Jim and I
are going to take a crack at them. Everyone's gone
bird crazy, talking of nothing else. I hear you were
troubled in the night. Want a gun? Nat s took

(43:00):
his head. The small car was packed. There was just
room for Jill if she crouched on top of patrol
tins on the back seat. I don't want a gun,
said Nat, but I'd be obliged if you'd run Jill home.
She's scared of the birds, He spoke briefly. He did
not want to talk in front of Jill, Okay, said

(43:21):
the farmer. I'll take her home. Why don't you stop
behind and join the shooting match. We'll make the feathers fly.
Jill climbed in and turning the car. The driver sped
up the lane. Nat followed after Trick must be crazy.
What use was a gun against a sky of birds?
Now Nat was not responsible for Jill. He had time

(43:45):
to look about him. The birds were circling still above
the fields, mostly herrying guph, but the black backed gull
amongst them. Usually they kept apart. Now they were united.
Some bond had brought them together. It was the black
back gull that attacked the smaller birds, and even newborn lambs,

(44:08):
so he'd heard. He'd never seen it done. He remembered
this now though, looking above him in the sky, they
were coming in towards the farm. They were circling lower
in the sky, and the black backed gulls were to
the front. The black back gulls were leading the farm.
Then was their target? They were making for the farm.

(44:31):
Nat increased his pace towards his own cottage. He saw
the farmer's car turn and come back along the lane.
It drew up beside him with a jerk. The kid
has run inside, said the farmer. Your wife was watching
for her. Well, what do you make of it? They're
saying in town the Russians have done it. The Russians
of poisoned the birds. How could they do that? Asked Nat,

(44:55):
don't ask me. You know how stories get around? Will
you join him my shooting match? No, I'll get along inside.
The wife still be worried. My missus says, if you
could eat goal, there'd be some sense in it, said Trigg.
We'd have roast gull baked goal and pickle them into

(45:16):
the bargain. You wait until I let off a few
barrels into the brutes. That'll scare them. Have you boarded
your windows? Asked Nat, No lot of nonsense. They like
to scare you on the wireless. I've had more to
do today than to go around boarding up my windows.
I'd board them now if I were you, Garn, you're windy,

(45:42):
like to come to our place to sleep? No thanks,
all the same, all right, see in the morning, give
you a goal breakfast. The farmer grinned and turned his
car on the farm entrance. Matt hurried on past the
little wood, past the old bar, and then across the
stile to the remaining field. As he jumped the style,

(46:06):
he heard the whir of wings. A black black gull
dived down at him from the sky. Misst swerved in
flight and rose to dive again. In a moment, it
was joined by others, six seven, a dozen, black backed
and harring mixed. Nat dropped his hoe. The hoe was useless.

(46:28):
Covering his head with his arms, he ran towards the cottage.
They kept coming at him from the air, silent, safe
for the beating wings, the terrible fluttering wings. He could
feel the blood on his hands, his wrists, his neck,
each stab of a swooping beak towards flesh. If only
could keep them from his eyes, nothing else mattered. He

(46:50):
must keep them from his eyes. They had not learned
yet how to cling to his shoulder, how to rip clothing,
how to dive in mass, upon the head, upon the body.
But with each dive, with each attack, they became bolder,
and they had no other thought for themselves. When they
dived low and missed, they crashed, bruised and broken on

(47:11):
the ground. As Nat ran, he stumbled, kicking their spent
bodies in front of him. He found the door. He
hammered upon it with his bleeding hands. Because of the
boarded windows, no light shone. Everything was dark. Let me in,
he shouted, it's Nat, let me in. He shouted a
loud to make himself heard above the whirr of the

(47:33):
gull's wing. Then he saw the gannet poised for the
dive above him in the sky. The gull circled retired
sword one after another against the wind. Only the gannet remained,
one single gannet above him in the sky. The wings
folded suddenly to its body. It dropped like a stone.

(47:53):
Nat screamed, and the door opened. He stumbled across the threshold,
and his wife threw her weight against the door. They
heard the of the ganet as it fell. His wife
dressed his wounds. They were not deep. The backs of
his hands had suffered most, and his wrists. Had he
not worn a cap, they would have reached his head.

(48:14):
As to the ganet, the ganet could have split his skull.
The children were crying, of course, they had seen the
blood on their father's hands. It's all right now, he
told them, I'm not hurt, just a few scratches. You
play with Johnny, Jill. Mammy will wash these cuts. He

(48:36):
half shut the door to the scullery so he could
not see. His wife was ashen. She began running water
from the sink. I saw them overhead, she whispered. They
began collecting just as Jill ran in with mister Trigg.
I shut the door fast and a jam. That's why
I couldn't open it at once when you came. Thank

(48:59):
god they waited for me, he said. Jill would have
fallen at once. One bird alone would have done it furnatively,
so as not to alarm the children. They whispered together
as she bandaged his hands in the back of his neck.
They're flying inland, he said, thousands of them, rooks, crows,
all the bigger birds. I saw them from the bus stop.

(49:22):
They're making for the towns. But what can they do, Nat.
They'll attack, go for everyone out in the streets. Then
they'll try the windows, the chimneys. Why don't the authorities
do something. Why don't they get the army, get machine guns, anything.

(49:43):
There's been no time, nobody's prepared. We'll hear what they
have to say on the six o'clock news. Nat went
back into the kitchen, followed by his wife. Johnny was
playing quilty on the floor. Only Jill looked anxious. I
can hear the birds, she said, listen, Dad, Nat listened,

(50:07):
muffled sounds came from the windows, from the doors, wings
brushing the surface, sliding, scraping, seeking a way of entry.
The sound of many bodies pressed together, shuffling on the sills.
Now and again came a thud, a crash as some
bird dived and fell. Some of them will kill themselves

(50:28):
that way, he thought. But not enough, never enough, all right,
he said, aloud, I've got boards over the windows, Jill,
the birds can't get in. He went and examined all
the windows. His work had been thorough, Every gap was closed.

(50:50):
He would make extra certain. However, He found wedges, pieces
of old tins, strips of wood and metal, and fastened
them at the sides to reinforce the board. Words. His
hammering helped to deafen the sound of the birds, the shuffling,
the tapping, and more ominous. He did not want his
wife or the children to hear it, the splinter of

(51:12):
cracked glass. Turn on the wireless, he said, let's have
the wireless. This would drown the sound. Also. He went
upstairs to the bedrooms and reinforced the windows there. Now
he could hear the birds on the roof, the scraping
of claws, a sliding jostling sound. He decided they must

(51:36):
sleep in the kitchen, keep up the fire, bring down
the mattresses, and lay them out on the floor. He
was afraid of the bedroom chimneys. The boards he had
placed at the chimney bases might give way. In the kitchen,
they would be safe because of the fire. He would
have to make a joke of it, pretend to the

(51:57):
children they were playing at camp. If the worst happened
and the birds forced an entry down the bedroom chimneys,
it would be ours days, perhaps before they could break
down the doors. The birds would be imprisoned in the bedrooms.
They could do no harm there. Crowded together, they would
stifle and die. He began to bring the mattresses downstairs.

(52:20):
At sight of them, his wife's eyes widened in apprehension.
She thought the birds had already broken in upstairs. All right,
he said, cheerfully, we'll all sleep together in the kitchen tonight,
more cozy here by the fire. Then we shan't be
worried by those stilly old birds tapping at the windows.

(52:43):
He made the children help him rearrange the furniture, and
he took the precaution of moving the dresser with his
wife's help across the window. It fitted well. It was
an added safeguard. The mattresses could now be laying one
beside the other. Again the wall where the dresser had stood.
We're safe enough now, he thought. We're snug and tight

(53:07):
like an air raid shelter. We can hold out. It's
just like food that worries me. Food and cold for
the fire. We've went out for two or three days,
not more by that time. No use thinking ahead as
far as that, and they'd be giving directions on the wireless.
People would be told what to do. And now, in

(53:29):
the midst of many problems, he realized that it was
dance music only coming over the air, not children's hours
as it would have been. He glanced at a dial. Yes,
they were on the Home Service, all right, dance records.
He switched to the light program. He knew the reason

(53:51):
the usual programs had been abandoned. This only happened at
exceptional times, elections and such. He tried to remember if
it had happened in the war, during the heavy raids
on London, but of course the BBC was not stationed
in London. During the war. The programs were broadcast from

(54:12):
other temporary quarters. We're better off here, he thought. We're
better off here in the kitchen with the windows and
the doors boarded than they are up in town. Thank
god we're not in the towns. At six o'clock the
record ceased. The time signal was given. No matter if

(54:35):
it scared the children, he must hear the news. There
was a pause after the pipes. Then the announcer spoke.
His voice was solemn, grave, quite different from midday. This
is London, he said. A national emergency was proclaimed at
four o'clock this afternoon. Measures are being taken to safeguard

(54:58):
the lives and property of the population, but it must
be understood that these are not easy to affect immediately,
owing to the unforeseen and unparalleled nature of the present crisis.
Every householder must take precaution to his own building, and
where several people live together, as in flats and apartments,

(55:21):
they must unite to do the utmost they can to
prevent entry. It is absolutely imperative that every individual stay
indoors tonight, and that no one at all remain on
the streets or roads or anywhere with outdoors. The birds
and vast numbers are attacking anyone on site and have

(55:44):
already begun to assault upon buildings, but these, with due care,
should be impenetrable. The population is asked to remain calm
and not to panic. Owing to the exceptional nature of
the emergency, there will be no further transmission from any
broadcasting station until seven a m. Tomorrow. They played the

(56:06):
national anthem. Nothing more happened. Nat switched off the set.
Hey looked at his wife. She stared back at him.
What's it mean, said Jill? What did DENI say? There
won't be any more programs tonight? Said Nat. There's been
a breakdown at the BBC. Is it the birds? Asked Jill.

(56:31):
Have the birds done it? No, said Nat. It's just
that everyone's very busy and this of course they have
to get rid of the birds messing everything up in
the towns. Well, we can manage without the wireless for
one evening. I wish we had a gramophone, said Jill.
That would be better than nothing. She had her face

(56:53):
turned to the dresser backed against the window. Try as
they did to ignore it, they were all aware of
the shuffling, the stabbing, the persistent beating and sweeping of wings.
We'll have supper early, suggested Net something for a treat,
asked Mammy. Toasted cheese, Eh, something we all like? He

(57:18):
winked a not at his wife. He wanted the look
of dread of apprehension to go from Jill's face. He
helped with the supper, whistling, singing, making as much clatter
as he could, and it seemed to him that the
shuffling and the tapping were not so intense as they
had been at first. Presently, he went up to the

(57:39):
bedrooms and listened, and he no longer heard the jostling
for place upon the roof. They've got reasoning powers, he thought.
They know it's hard to break in here. They'll try elsewhere.
They won't waste their time with us. Supper passed without incident,

(58:00):
and then when they were clearing away, they heard a
new sound, droning, familiar, a sound they all knew and understood.
His wife looked up at him, her face alight. It's plains,
she said. They're sending out plains after the birds. That's
what I said they ought to do all along. They

(58:20):
will get them. Isn't that gun fire? Can't you hear guns?
It might be gun fire out at sea? Nat could
not tell big naval guns might have an effect upon
the gulls out at sea, but the gulls were inland now.
The guds couldn't shell the shore because of the population.

(58:43):
It's good, isn't it, said his wife, to hear the plains,
and Jill, catching her enthusiasm, jumped up and down with Johnny.
The plains will get the birds. The plains will shoot them.
Just then they heard a crash about two miles distant,
followed by a second than a third. The droning became

(59:03):
more distant, passed way out to sea. What was that,
asked his wife. Were they dropping bombs on the birds?
I don't know, answered nat I don't think so. He
did not want to tell her that the sound they
had heard was the crashing of aircraft. It was, he

(59:23):
had no doubt, a venture on the part of the
authorities to send out reconnaissance forces. But they might have
known the venture was suicidal. What could aircraft do against
birds that flung themselves to death, against propeller and fuselage,
but hurtle to the ground themselves. This was being tried now,
he supposed, over the whole country, and at a cost.

(59:46):
Someone high up had lost his head. Where have the
planes gone? Dad asked Jill back to Basie said come
on now, time to truck down for bed. It kept
his wife occupied, undressing the children before the fire, seeing

(01:00:07):
to the bedding, one thing and another, while he went
round the cottage again, making sure that nothing had worked loose.
There was no further drone of aircraft, and the naval
guns had ceased. Waste of life and effort. Nat said
to himself, we can't destroy enough of them that way
cost too heavy. They're always gas. Maybe they'll try spraying

(01:00:31):
with gas, mustard gas. We'll be war nforced, of course,
if they do. There's one thing, the best brains of
the country will be on it tonight. Somehow, the thought
reassured him. He had a picture of scientists, naturalist, technicians,
and all those chaps they called the back room boys,

(01:00:52):
summoned to a council. They'd be working on the problem. Now.
This was not a job for the government, for the
chief of staffs. They would merely carry out the orders
of the scientists. They'll have to be ruthless, he thought,
where's the troubles Worse, they'll have to risk more lives
if they use gas. All the livestock too, and the

(01:01:17):
soil all contaminated. As long as everyone doesn't panic, that's
the trouble. People panicking, losing their heads. The BBC was
right to warn us of that. Upstairs, in the bedrooms,
all was quiet. No further scraping and stabbing at the window.

(01:01:38):
A lull in battle forces regrouping, Wasn't that what they
called it in the old wartime bulletins. The wind hadn't dropped,
though he could still hear it roaring in the chimneys
and the sea breaking down the shore. Then he remembered
the tide. The tide would be on the turn. Maybe

(01:02:01):
the lull in battle was because of the tide. There
was some law the birds obeyed, and it was all
to do with the east wind and the tide. He
glanced at his watch nearly eight o'clock. It must have
gone high water an hour ago. That explained the lull.
The birds attacked with the flood tide. It might not

(01:02:23):
work that way inland up country, but it seemed as
if it was on this way on the coast. He
reckoned the time limit in his head. They had six
hours to go without attack. When the tide turned again
around one twenty in the morning, the birds would come back.
There were two things he could do. The first to

(01:02:45):
rest with his wife and the children, and all of
them snatch what sleep they could until the small hours.
The second to go out see how they were faring
at the farm, see if the telephone still working there,
so that they might get news from the exchange. He
called softly to his wife, who had just settled the children.

(01:03:09):
She came half way up the stairs, and he whispered
to her, you're not to go. She said at once,
you must not go and leave me alone with the children.
I can't stand it. Her voice rose hysterically. He hushed
her calmed all right, He said, all right, I'll wait
till morning, and we'll get the wireless bulletin then two

(01:03:30):
at seven. But in the morning, when the tide ebbs again,
I'll try for the farm and they may let us
have bread and potatoes and milk too. His mind was
busy again, planning against emergency. They would not have milt,
of course, this evening. The cows would be standing by
the gate, waiting in the yard, with a household inside

(01:03:54):
battened behind boards, as they were here at the cottage.
That is, if they had time to take precaution. He
thought of the farmer, trig smiling at him from the car.
There would have been no shooting party, not to night.
The children were asleep. His wife, still clothed, was sitting

(01:04:16):
on her mattress. She watched him, her eyes nervous. What
are you going to do? She whispered. He shook his
head for silence. Softly, stealthily, he opened the back door
and looked outside. It was pitch dark. The wind was
blowing harder than ever, coming in steady gusts, icy from

(01:04:39):
the sea. He kicked at the step outside the door.
It was heaped with birds. There were dead birds everywhere,
under the windows, against the walls. These were the suicides,
the divers, the ones with broken necks. Wherever he looked
he saw dead birds, no trace of the living. The

(01:05:01):
living had flown seaward with the turn of the tide.
The gulls would be riding the seas now as they
had done in the afternoon. In the far distance, on
the hill where the tractor had been two days before,
something was burning. One of the aircraft that had crashed.
The fire, fanned by the wind, had set light to

(01:05:23):
a stack. He looked at the bodies of the birds,
and he had a notion that if he heaped them
one upon the other on the window still, they would
make added protection for the next attack. Not much, perhaps,
but something. The bodies would have to be clawed at, pecked,
and dragged aside before the living birds could gain purchase

(01:05:46):
on the sills and attack the panes. He set to
work in the darkness. It was queer. He hated touching them.
The bodies were still warm and bloody. The blood matted
their feathers. He felt his stomach turn, but he went
on with his work. He noticed grimly that every window

(01:06:07):
pane was shattered. Only the boards had kept the birds
from breaking in. He stuffed the cracked panes with the
bleeding bodies of the birds. When he had finished, he
went back into the cottage. He barricaded the kitchen door,
made it doubly secure. He took off his bandages, sticky
with the bird's blood, not with his own cuts, and

(01:06:30):
put on fresh plaster. His wife had made him coco.
When he drank it thirstily, he was very tired, all right,
he said, smiling, don't worry, we'll get through. He lay
down on his mattress and closed his eyes. He slept
at once. He dreamed uneasily, because through his dreams there

(01:06:54):
ran a thread of something forgotten, some piece of work
neglected that he should have done, some precaution that he
had known well but had not taken, And he could
not put a name to it. In his dreams it
was connected in some way with the burning aircraft and
the stack upon the hill. He went on sleeping, though

(01:07:17):
he did not wake. It was his wife shaking his
shoulder that awoke him. Finally, they've begun, she sobbed, they've
started this last hour. I can't listen to it any
longer alone. There's something smelling bad too, something burning. Then
he remembered he had forgotten to make up the fire.

(01:07:40):
It was smoldering nearly out. He got up swiftly and
lit the lamp. The hammering had started at the windows
and the door, But it was not that he minded. Now.
It was a smell of sinched feathers. The smell filled
the kitchen. He knew at once what it was. The
birds were coming down the chimney, squeezing their way down

(01:08:01):
to the kitchen range. He got sticks and paper and
put them on the embers, then reached for the kin
of paraffin stand back he shouted to his wife. We've
got to risk this. He threw the paraffin onto the fire.
The flames roared up the pipe, and down upon the
fire fell the scorched, blackened bodies of the birds. The

(01:08:23):
children woke crying, What is it, said Jill, What happened?
Nat had no time to answer. He was raking the
bodies from the chimney, climbing them out onto the floor.
The flames still roared, and the danger of the chimney
catching fire was one he had to take. The flames
would send away the living birds from the chimney top.

(01:08:45):
The lower joint was a difficulty, though this was choked
with the smoldering, helpless bodies of the birds caught by
the fire. He scarcely heeded the attack on the windows
and the door. Let them beat their wings, break their beaks,
lose their lives, and the attempt to force an entry
into his home. They would not break in. He thanked God.

(01:09:06):
He had one of the old cottages with small windows
stout walls, not like the new council houses. Heaven helped
them up the lane in the new council houses. Stop crying,
he called to the children, there's nothing to be afraid
of stop crying. He went on, raking at the burning,
smoldering bodies as they fell into the fire. This'll fetch them,

(01:09:31):
he said to himself, the draft and the flames together,
we're all right. As long as a chimney doesn't catch.
I ought to be shot for this. It's all my fault.
Last thing I should have made up the fire. I
knew there was something I made. The scratching and tearing
at the windows boards came the sudden, homely striking of

(01:09:53):
the kitchen clock. Three a m. A little more than
four hours to go. Yet he could not be sure
at the exact time of high water. He reckoned it
would not turn much before half past seven twenty to eight.
Light up the primus, he said to his wife. Make

(01:10:15):
us some tea, and the kid some cocoa. No use
sitting around doing nothing. That was the line. Keep her busy,
and the children too, move about, eat, drink. Always best
to be on the go. He waited by the range.
The flames were dying, but no more blackened bodies fell

(01:10:37):
from the chimney. He thrust his poker up as far
as it would go and found nothing. It was clear
the chimney was clear. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Come on now, Jill, he said, bring me some sticks.
I'll have a good fire going directly. She wouldn't come
near him, though she was staring at the heap's inched

(01:10:58):
bodies of the birds. Never mind them, he said, we'll
put those in the passage when I've got the fire steady.
The danger of the chimney was over. It could not
happen again, not if the fire was kept burning day
and night. I'll have to get more fuel from the
farm tomorrow, he thought. This will never last. I'll manage, though.

(01:11:21):
I can do all that. With the ebb tide. It
can be worked, fetching what we need when the tides turned.
We've just got to adapt ourselves, that's all. They drank
tea and cocoa and ate slices of bread and bovril.
Only half a loaf left, Nat noticed. Never mind though

(01:11:41):
they'd get by. Stop it, said young Johnny, pointing to
the windows with a spoon. Stop it, you old birds,
that's right, said Nat, smiling. We don't want the old
beggar's Dewy had enough of em. They began to cheer
when they heard the thud of the suicide bird. There's another, Dad,

(01:12:04):
cried Jill. He's done for he's had it, said Nat,
there he goes the blighter. This was the way to
face up to it. This was the spirit. If they
could keep this up, hang on like this until seven,
when the first news bulletin came through, they would not
have done too badly. Give us a fag, he said

(01:12:29):
to his wife. A bit of a smoke will clear
away the smell of the scorched feathers. There's only two
left in the packets, she said, I was going to
buy you some from the co op. I'll have one,
he said. The other will keep for a rainy day.
No sense trying to make the children rest. There was

(01:12:52):
no rest to be got. While the tapping and the
scratching went on at the windows, he sat with one
arm around his wife and the other around Jill, with
Johnny on his mother's lap, and the blankets heaped about
them on the mattress. You can't help admiring the beggars,
he said. They've got persistence. You'd think they'd tire of

(01:13:15):
the game, but not a bit of it. Admiration was
hard to sustain. The tapping went on and on, and
a new rasping note struck Natsier, as though a sharper
beak than any hitherto had come to take over from
its fellows. He tried to remember the names of birds.

(01:13:35):
He tried to think which species would go for this
particular job. It was not the tap of the woodpecker
that would be light and frequent. This was more serious,
because if it continued long, the wood would splinter, as
the glass had done. Then he remembered the hawks. Could
the hawks have taken over from the gulls? Were those

(01:13:58):
buzzards now palm the sills using towns as well as beaks, hawks, buzzards, castrals, falcons.
He had forgotten the birds of prey. He had forgotten
the gripping power of the birds of prey. Three hours
to go, and while they waited, the sound of the
splintering wood, the talon tearing at the wood. Nat looked

(01:14:24):
about him, seeing what furniture he could destroy to fortify
the door. The windows were safe because of the dresser,
He was not certain of a door. He went upstairs,
but when he reached the landing he paused and listened.
There was a soft patter on the floor of the
children's bedroom. The birds had broken through. He put his

(01:14:48):
ear to the door. No mistake, he could hear the
rustle of wings and the light patter as they searched
the floor. The other bedroom was still clear. He went
into it and began bringing out the furniture to pilot
the head of the stairs. Should the door of the
children's bedroom go, It was a preparation. It might never

(01:15:12):
be needed. He could not stack the furniture against the
door because it opened inwards. The only possible thing was
to have it at the top of the stairs. Come down, nat,
What are you doing, called his wife. I won't be long,
he shouted, just making everything ship shape up here. He

(01:15:34):
did not want to come. He did not want her
to hear the pattering of the feet in the children's bedroom,
the brushing of those wings against the door. At five thirty,
he suggested breakfast bacon and fried bread, if only to
stop the growing look of panic in his wife's eyes

(01:15:54):
and to calm the fretful children. She did not know
about the birds upstairs. The bedroom luckily was not over
the kitchen. Had it been so, she could not have
failed to hear the sound of them up there, tapping
the boards and the silly, senseless thud of the suicide birds,

(01:16:15):
the Death and Glory boys who flew into the bedroom,
smashing their heads against the wall. He knew them of old,
the herring gulls. They had no brains. The black backs
were different. They knew what they were doing. So did
the buzzards, the hawks. He found himself watching the clock,

(01:16:38):
gazing at the hands that went so slowly round the dial.
If his theory was not correct, if the attack did
not cease with the turn of the tide, he knew
they were beaten. They could not continue through the long
day without air, without rest, without more fuel, without his

(01:16:58):
mind raised. He knew there was so many things they
needed to withstand siege. They were not fully prepared. They
were not ready. It might be that it would be
safer in the towns, after all, If he could get
a message through on the farm's telephone to his cousin,
only a short journey by train up country, they might

(01:17:21):
be able to hire a car. That would be quicker,
hire a car between tides. His wife's voice calling his
name drove away the sudden desperate desire for sleep. What
is it? What now, he said, sharply, though wireless, said
his wife. I've been watching the clock. It's nearly seven.

(01:17:45):
Don't twist the knob, he said, impatient for the first time.
It's on the home. Where it is. They'll speak from
the home. They waited, the kitchen clock strucking seven. There
was no sound, no chimes, no music. They waited until
a quarter passed, switching to the light. The result was

(01:18:09):
the same. No news bulletins came through. We've heard wrong,
he said. They won't be broadcasting until eight o'clock. They
left it switched on, and nat thought of the battery,
wondered how much power was left in it. It was
generally recharged when his wife went shopping in the town.

(01:18:33):
If the battery failed, they would not hear the instructions.
It's getting light, whispered his wife. I can't see it,
but I can feel it, and the birds aren't hammering
so loud. She was right. The rasping, tearing sound grew
fainter every moment, so did the shuffling, the jostling for

(01:18:54):
place upon the step upon the sills. The tide was
on the turn. By eight, there was no sound at all,
only the wind. The children, lulled at last by the stillness,
fell asleep at half past eight, Gnat switched the wireless off.

(01:19:17):
What are you doing? We'll miss the news, said his wife.
There isn't going to be any news, said Nat. We've
got to depend upon ourselves. He went to the door
and slowly pulled away the barrier. He drew the bolts, and,
kicking the bodies from the stoop outside the door, breathed

(01:19:38):
the cold air. He had six working hours before him,
and he knew he must reserve his strength for the
right things, not wasted in any way. Food and light
and fuel. These were the necessary things. If he could
get them in sufficiency, they could endure another night. He

(01:20:00):
stepped into the garden, and as he did so, he
saw the living birds. The gulls had gone to ride
the sea, as they had done before. They sought sea
food and the buoyancy of the tide before they returned
to the attack. Not so the land birds. They waited
and watched. Nat saw them on the hedgerows, on the soil,

(01:20:23):
crowded in the trees outside in the field, lying upon
line of birds, all still doing nothing. He went to
the end of his small garden. The birds did not move.
They went on watching him. I've got to get food
said Nat to himself. I've got to go to the
farm to find food. He went back to the cottage.

(01:20:48):
He saw to the windows and the doors. He went
upstairs and opened the children's bedroom. It was empty except
for the dead birds on the floor. The living were
out there in the garden, in the fields. He went downstairs.
I'm going to the farm, he said. His wife clung
to him. She had seen the living birds from the
open door. Take us with you, she begged. We can't

(01:21:11):
stay here alone. I'd rather die than stay here alone.
He considered the matter. He nodded. Come on, then, he said,
bring baskets and Johnnie's pram. We can load up the pram.
They dressed against the biding wind, wore gloves and scarves.
His wife put Johnny and the pram. Nat took Jill's hand.

(01:21:36):
The birds, she whispered, they're all out there in the fields.
They won't hurt us. He said, not in the light.
They started walking across the field towards the stile, and
the birds did not move. They waited, their heads turned
to the wind. When they reached the turning to the

(01:22:01):
Nat stopped and told his wife to wait in the
shelter of the hedge with the two children. But I
want to see missus Trigg, she protested. There are lots
of things we can borrow if they want to market yesterday,
not only bredon. Wait here, Nat interrupted, I'll be back

(01:22:22):
in a moment. The cows were lowing, moving restlessly in
the yard, and he could see a gap in the
fence where the sheep had knocked their way through to
roam unchecked. In the front garden before the farmhouse. No
smoke came from the chimneys. He was filled with misgiving.
He did not want his wife or the children to

(01:22:43):
go down to the farm. Don't give now, said Nat harshly.
Do what I say. She withdrew with a prim into
the hedge, screening herself and the children from the wind.
He went down alone to the farm. He pushed his
way through the bellowing cows, which turned this way, and
that distressed their utters full. He saw the car standing

(01:23:07):
by the gate, not put away. In the garage. The
windows of the farmhouse were smashed. There were many dead
gulls lying in the yard and around the house. The
living birds perched on the group of trees behind the
farm and on the roof of the house. They were
quite still. They watched him. Jim's body lay in the yard,

(01:23:28):
what was left of it when the birds had finished.
The cows had trampled him. His gun was beside him.
The door of the house was shut and bolted, but
as the windows were smashed, it was easy to lift
them and climb through. Trigg's body was close to the telephone.
He must have been trying to get through to the

(01:23:48):
exchange when the birds came for him. The receiver was
hanging loose, the instrument torn from the wall. No sign
of missus Trigg. She would be upstairs. Was it any
use going up? Sickened, net knew what he would find.
Thank God, he said to himself. There were no children.

(01:24:11):
He forced himself to climb the stairs, but halfway he
turned and descended again. He could see her legs protruding
from the open bedroom door. Beside her were the bodies
of the black backed gulls and an umbrella broken snow. Use,
thought nat doing anything. I've only got five hours. Less

(01:24:33):
than that the Trigs would understand. I might slowed up
with what I can find. He tramped back to his
wife and children. I'm going to fill up the car
with stuff, he said, I'll put coal in it and
paraffin for the primus. We'll take it home and return
for a fresh load. What about the trigs, asked his wife.

(01:24:56):
They must have gone to friends, he said, Shall I
come and help you? Then? No, there's a mess down there,
cows and sheep all over the place. Wait, I'll get
the car. You can sit in it. Clumsily, he backed
the car out of the yard and into the lane.
His wife and the children could not see Jim's body
from there. Stay here, he said, never mind the pram.

(01:25:20):
The pram can be fetched later. I'm going to load
the car. Her eyes watched his all the time. He
believed she understood, otherwise she would have suggested helping him
to find the bread and groceries. They made three journeys altogether,
backwards and forwards between their cottage and the farm, before
he was satisfied at everything they needed. It was surprising

(01:25:43):
once he started thinking how many things were necessary. Almost
the most important of all was planking for the windows.
He had to go round searching for timber. He wanted
to renew the boards on all the windows at the cottage. Candles, paraffin,
nail pills, tin stuff. The list was endless. Besides all that,

(01:26:05):
he milted three of the cows. The rest, poor brutes
would have to go on bellowing on the final journey.
He drove the car to the bus stop, got out,
and went to the telephone box. He waited a few minutes,
jangling the receiver. No good, though the line was dead.
He climbed onto a bank and looked over the countryside.

(01:26:27):
But there was no sign of life at all. Nothing
in the fields but the waiting watching birds. Some of
them slept. He could see the beaks tucked into the feathers.
You'd think they'd be feeding, he said to himself, not
just standing in that way. Then he remembered they were
gorged with food. They had eaten their fill during the night.

(01:26:51):
That was why they did not move this morning. No
smoke came from the chimney of the council house. He
thought of the children who had run across the field
the night before. I should have known, he thought, I
ought to have taken them home with me. He lifted
his face to the sky. It was colorless and gray.

(01:27:12):
The bare trees on the landscape looked back and blackened
by the east wind. The cold did not affect the
living birds waiting out there in the fields. This is
the time they ought to get them, said Nat. They're
sitting target now. They must be doing this all over
the country. Why don't our aircraft take off now and

(01:27:35):
spray them with mustard gas. What are all our chaps doing?
They must know, They must see for themselves. He went
back to the car and got into the driver's seat.
Go quickly past that second gate, whispered his wife. The
postman's lying there. I don't want child to see. He
accelerated the little moors jumped and rattled along the lane.

(01:28:00):
The children shrieked with laughter. Up down, Up, down, shouted
John Johnny. It was a quarter to one by the
time they reached the cottage, only an hour to go.
Better have cold dinner, said Nat. Hot up something for
yourself and the children, some of that soup. I've no
time to eat now. I've got to go unload all

(01:28:22):
this stuff. He got everything inside the cottage. It could
be sorted later. Give them all something to do during
the long hours ahead. First he must seat to the
windows and the doors. He went round the cottage methodically,
testing every window, every door. He climbed on to the roof,
also and fixed boards across every chimney except the kitchen.

(01:28:45):
The cold was so intense he could hardly bear it,
but the job had to be done. Now and again
he would look up, searching the sky for aircraft. None came.
As he worked. He cursed the in efficiency of the authorities.
It's always the same, he muttered. They always let us down.
Muddle muddle from start, no plan, no real organization, and

(01:29:09):
we don't matter down here. That's what it is. The
people up country have priority. They're using gas up there,
no doubt, and all the air craft. I've got to
wait and take what comes. He paused, the work on
the bedroom chimney finished and looked out to sea. Something

(01:29:31):
was moving out there, something gray and white amongst the breakers.
Good old navy said, they never let us down. They're
coming down channel, they're turning in the bay. He waited,
straining his eyes, watering in the wind toward the sea.
He was wrong, though it was not ships. The Navy

(01:29:55):
was not there. The gulls were rising from the sea.
The mos flocks in the fields with ruffled feathers rose
in formation from the ground and wing to wings soared
upwards to the sky. The tide had turned again. Nat
climbed down the ladder and went inside the kitchen. The
family were at dinner. It was a little after two.

(01:30:19):
He bolted the door, put up the barricade, and lit
the lamp. It's night time, said Young Johnny. His wife
had switched on the wireless once again, but no sound
came from it. I've been all around the dial, she said,
foreign stations and that lot. I can't get anything. Maybe

(01:30:40):
they have the same trouble, he said. Maybe it's the
same right through Europe. She poured out a plateful of
the trigs soup, cut him a large slice of the
trig's bread, and spread the drippings upon it. They ate
in silence. A piece of the dripping ran down Young
john his chin and fell on to the table. Manners,

(01:31:04):
Johnny said, Jill, you should learn to wipe your mouth.
The tapping began at the windows, at the door, the rustling,
the jostling, the pushing for position on the sills, the
first thud of the suicide gulls upon the step. Won't
America do something, said his wife. They've always been our allies,
haven't they. Surely America will do something. Nat did not answer.

(01:31:29):
The boards were strong against the windows and on the
chimneys too. The cottage was filled with stores with fuel,
with all they needed for the next few days. When
he had finished dinner, here put the stuff away, stack
it neatly, get everything ship shaped. Handy like his wife
would help him, and the children too. They'd tire themselves

(01:31:51):
out between now and a quarter to nine, when the
tide would ebb. Then he tucked them down on their mattresses,
see that they slept good and sound until three in
the morning. He had a new scheme for the windows,
which was to fixed barbed wire in front of the boards.

(01:32:11):
He had brought a great roll of it from the farm.
The nuisance was he'd have to work at this in
the dark when the lull came between nine and three.
Pity he had not thought of it before. Still, as
long as the wife slept and the kids, that was
the main thing. The smaller birds were at the windows.

(01:32:31):
Now he recognized the light tap tapping of their beaks
and the soft brush of their wings. The hawks ignored
the windows. They concentrated their attack upon the door. Nat
listened to the tearing round of splintering wood and wondered
how many million years of memory were stored in those

(01:32:53):
little brains behind the stabbing beaks, the piercing eyes. Now
giveing them this instinct to destroy mankind with all the
deft precision of machines. I'll smoke that last fag, he
said to his wife. Stupid of me. It was the
one thing I forgot to bring back from the farm.

(01:33:17):
He reached for it, switched down the silent wireless. He
threw the empty packet on the fire and watched it
barn

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