Uplift (eBook)
288 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-6813-2 (ISBN)
Steve Habersang is a designer, art director, and illustrator based in Connecticut.
- National Indie Excellence Awards Winner- IBPA Book Awards Silver medal- Readers' Favorite Bronze medal- NYC Big Book Awards Winner- Indies Today Awards runner-up- Hollywood Book Festival runner-up"e;Enchanting and enlightening"e; Readers' Favorite 5-stars"e;Remarkable a standout novel that deserves to be cherished and shared"e; IBPA Book Awards"e;Mann's story doesn't just take flight, it soars"e; BlueInk Starred review"e;A riveting must-read"e; Psychology Today"e;A beautiful portrait of nature's cycles"e; Publishers Weekly/Booklife"e;Exceptionally beautiful and inspiring Highly recommended to anyone looking for a heartfelt story"e; Online Book Club"e;Lifts to entertaining heights, with appeal to adults as well as younger readers"e; Indie Readers review"e;An enchanting allegorical story"e; Foreword/Clarion"e;Part ancient myth and part experimental fiction A great read"e; The Nature Conservancy When her high mountain wilderness is threatened by humans, a rebellious young bird must teach others how to work together to save their common home. An inspiring, lyrical coming-of-age story with heart and purpose. For teen through adult readers. Born high in a spruce tree, Columbina and her brothers grow up listening to ancestral tales through long winters and harvesting pine seeds in summer. But Columbina begins to question her clan's traditions and forms bonds with creatures beyond her species. When she uncovers a looming threat from the mysterious Tall Ones, she must decide how far she'll go to protect her world. A richly imaginative novel told through avian eyes about the bonds of family and joys of friendship. Uplift explores the strength of community, the power of interconnection, and the impact of environmental change. It may just change the way you see birds forever.
CHAPTER 2
April
Columbina came into the world on a bitter cold day with her eyes glued shut. With one last strike of her egg tooth the shards of shell fell away as her world cracked open. She was engulfed by a powerful brightness she could sense even behind closed lids. She became aware of the light touch of feathers as her mother and father brushed her downy head, and a gentle clucking that she had heard before, but louder now, familiar and comforting. Blind, she swung her head side to side to try and make sense of this confusing place she found herself in after the comfortable darkness of her egg. Her parents, full of joy and wonder, stroked her gently with their bills to let her know she was not alone.
Head thrown back, mouth wide open to the sky, she felt a warmth in her throat and swallowed eagerly, coughing at the rough mash of rotten seed. Over and over they fed her and soon her senses sharpened. She let out her first tiny squawk, then settled against the soft fibers of the nest to rest.
Over the days that followed, she heard the insistent scratching of beak against egg, and soon the other two speckled eggs hatched. Columbina felt herself surrounded by small downy bodies that squirmed and strained, three scrawny necks held high in the air, their tiny salmon-colored throats opened wide to seize the warm seed mash they were given.
When the north winds blew the small nest was protected, on the lee side of the spruce tree and shielded by its thick, green needles. But when the wind shifted and came from the east, drafts would blow through the finely woven strips of dried branches, and the chicks would huddle closer and shiver. On the coldest days, when the wind sent snowflakes whirling through the air, her parents would take turns protecting the helpless chicks, covering them with their bodies to share life-sustaining warmth, their featherless brood patches throbbing like a heartbeat.
On the sixth day Columbina opened her eyes. Bewildered by the blinding light of the sun, she blinked in confusion at the waving shadows of branches. Her father Fraxinus was there and saw the brightness of her black eye shining out for the first time. He called to his mate with a loud caw of glee.
“Dinella, come see! Our bright eyes is here! Our first-born.”
Her mother swooped in a moment later, her large grey and black body startling Columbina as she appeared suddenly at the edge of the nest. She cocked her head to one side to have a better look and let out a gentle trilling whisper. “She is beautiful,” she said, rubbing her bill affectionately against her mate’s. “And look! She has the mark of the Valiant Ones upon her,” she said, pointing to the small white patch upon her daughter’s cheek. Columbina struggled to focus as her entire world—the nest, the branches of the tree, and her siblings, huddled and chirping with beaks open to the sky—swayed at the sudden rush of wind and warmth they knew as their mother.
Columbina and her brothers, Limber and Donius, grew quickly as the days passed. Their parents soon wearied of the constant trips to the seed caches to feed the open mouths of the nestlings. Soon the youngsters’ scraggly bodies began to fill out and strengthen, and their downy hair began to be replaced with small feathers that insulated their thin skin. They learned to speak, too, in early croaks and squeaks at first, but then learning the language of their kind: the intimate musical whispers when it was time for sleep, or the sharp alarm cries as the shadow of a hawk passed overhead.
The northern woods surrounding the Nutcracker’s home tree grew thick with evergreens, the pines, firs and spruces forming an army of deep-green sentinels pointing to the sky. Interspersed among them were groves of aspen, leafless now, trunks contorted and twisted by the action of snow and wind. And below, on the ground, were the tracks of countless furbearers in the deep snow. Columbina gazed down in wonder at the deer and occasional moose that wandered through the grove, watching them paw at the trunks or dig through the snow to uncover stray blades of last summer’s dead grasses. Foxes and martens trotted past, on the lookout for moldy mushrooms or sniffing out the small creatures that tunneled beneath the snow, anything that would provide sustenance in the dead of winter.
“Mother, what is this place?” asked Columbina one day when her mother swooped in with a rare early season treat in her bill, a shiny black beetle, its legs helplessly scrabbling the air. Mother tilted her head to look down at her with a curious light in her black eye. Limber and Donius were busy clacking at each other with their beaks, distracted by the large clumps of white powder that cascaded down around them from the warming sun.
“Why, the pine forest, of course. I will tell you more of this later. But first, eat,” she said, as she threw the beetle into the nest and stabbed it with her long, sharp bill. Limber and Donius suddenly noticed their mother’s arrival and began greedily pecking at the body, as Columbina cocked her head and watched them. Her mother nudged her, and she hesitantly tilted her head down into the scrabble of beaks.
That night the full moon rose, throwing lacy shadows through the fir tree. Mother and Father flew in and settled at the edge of the nest, their labors finished for the day. They leaned heavily against one another, eyes closed, their heads lightly touching. In the moonlight their bodies shone silvery gray, set off against the jet black of their long, elegant wings. They rested quietly that way for some time, until the restless youngsters finally stopped wriggling and looked expectantly at their parents. Only the gentle rustling of wind through spruce boughs and the distant call of an owl broke the quiet.
At last Mother sighed and straightened up, ruffling out her breast feathers, then flicked open her wings briefly before tucking them behind her. With the moon at her back casting a deep shadow, she looked large and imposing, and the chicks sank down in awed silence.
“Now, young ones, you will hear the stories of our clan,” she began. “For it is time to learn who you are.”
Limber and Donius couldn’t contain their excitement, they began clacking and jostling each other as each tried to place his own wing on top of his brother’s.
“Stop pushing!”
“Stop pushing me!”
“Hush!” cried Father. “We are Clark’s Nutcrackers, pride of the pine forest. Do not forget,” he warned, prodding them roughly with his strong bill. They fell silent, and three small faces turned up to face their mother.
“In the beginning there was only darkness,” began Mother. Her voice was deeper and more resonant than her normal tone, and the youngsters were instantly captivated, feeling the power of her words.
“The Valiant Ones, our ancestors, bravely flew forth seeking the light. They came to the Mountains of Darkness, and flew up, higher and higher, into the realm of the Sky Gods. These gods were powerful and had captured the Sun and put her in a deep, dark cave, wishing to keep her life-giving warmth for themselves.”
“Is that where she goes at night, then, back into the cave?” said Columbina, but her mother waved her off with an impatient flick of her bill.
“Hush and listen. For our ancestors were very clever. They came before the evil Sky Gods and told them of a power that was greater than their own: the Water Gods, who were even then breaking at the foot of the cliffs. The Sky Gods were arrogant and could not believe there was another more powerful than they. In their fury, they leaned far out over the cliff to see these beings. Then the Valiant Ones flew at them fiercely from behind and threw them off the cliff!”
A clamor of questions arose from the chicks. “Did the evil ones die?” said Donius.
“No, gods can never truly be killed.”
“What did they do with the Sun?” asked Limber.
“Be still and I will tell you. As the Sky Gods foundered in the water, our ancestors flew to the cave. There they hammered and pecked with their strong bills to move the stones blocking the entrance. As the last stone broke apart, it released the Sun, who flew up into the Sky. And her rays came pouring out to banish the darkness.”
The three young birds twittered with excitement in the moonlight, heads bobbing on thin necks.
“Wait, the best part is to come,” said Mother. She had heard these tales from her own mother when she was a nestling, and now her chest filled with joy as she looked around at the three faces before her. “For the Sun’s golden rays cracked the Mountains of Darkness,” she continued. “And as the rocks came tumbling down, they began to roll, and they rolled up together into great boulders,” she said, her voice rising toward the triumphant conclusion. “And from these very rocks was born our Earth!”
In the sudden silence they could all hear the wind sighing. No one spoke, still under the spell of their mother’s voice. But the story was over, and after a moment Dinella let out a long sigh. “So let us ever be grateful for Earth, our mother,” she said softly. “And have pride, my young ones, because it was your ancestors, the Valiant Ones, who brought this about.”
Limber and Donius sat quietly, glassy-eyed and mouths open. It was late and they were tired, overwhelmed by the story. Their eyes began to droop. Fraxinus hopped over to his mate and perched next...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 4.9.2024 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3509-6813-2 / 9798350968132 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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