The flight of the falcon...
It started with a warm sunny morning. He sat there soaking the sun, drinking the cool spring water. It was extremely serene outside. The kind of day that everyone desires but few experience. The day was perfect to take a plunge in the pool and then lie in the sun. Wasn't too cold, nor too hot... Just perfect.
But then he had to fly. It was his prerogative to fly. And a prerogative he loved and enjoyed as if it were his life. That was he was destined to do, and that was what he always did. Fly...
He started and was soon soaring over the high cliffs. The ground underneath was green and calm. He could see the shimmering waters of the river below, shimmering like a million diamonds in the sun. He could see the green grass on the banks, as if a carpet was laid. He could see the shadows cast by the foliage of the mighty trees of the forest below.
There was peace all around, he was in an almost soundproof shell with just the din of the wind was all that could be heard. It was like meditation, where all that mattered was the moment. Not the past, not the future but right now. A simple miss and he would fail his misson, one wrong turn and he would be lost. Yes, he did have an assortment of guidance systems but getting lost in the enormity of open skies was still a reality.
...
He locked on the target, deduced its speed on the ground, moving East of North East and soon to disappear under the thick foliage of the forest ahead. He braked, banked hard left and turned. He could feel the stress of the sudden maneuver, but he knew he could do more. He was at peace.
As he turned he found himself facing a flock of migrating geese. Going by the book, he had no chance to hit his target and be safe from colliding with the geese. He had no time to think, and he didn't. Revving up to get all the power he had, he banked right. The wings shuddered with the pressure, he pulled up, lost speed and gained a few meters, just enough to clear the geese and... stalled.
As he fell, he saw his target once again, still moving, still in open. He rolled and managed to balance himself while aligning his nose with the target. Others would consider his actions, a feat of great skill and would be awed. Here he was, who no longer had any recollection of anything that he had done or how he did it.
And as he lined himself to the target, he folded his wings and doing more than 250 Km per hour dived down, caught the rat and took off, back into the vast blue sky, never touching the ground once...
P.S: Falcons can dive at more than 180 mph, and never land. They're the best aces and the best flying machines that exist yet...
But then he had to fly. It was his prerogative to fly. And a prerogative he loved and enjoyed as if it were his life. That was he was destined to do, and that was what he always did. Fly...
He started and was soon soaring over the high cliffs. The ground underneath was green and calm. He could see the shimmering waters of the river below, shimmering like a million diamonds in the sun. He could see the green grass on the banks, as if a carpet was laid. He could see the shadows cast by the foliage of the mighty trees of the forest below.
There was peace all around, he was in an almost soundproof shell with just the din of the wind was all that could be heard. It was like meditation, where all that mattered was the moment. Not the past, not the future but right now. A simple miss and he would fail his misson, one wrong turn and he would be lost. Yes, he did have an assortment of guidance systems but getting lost in the enormity of open skies was still a reality.
...
He locked on the target, deduced its speed on the ground, moving East of North East and soon to disappear under the thick foliage of the forest ahead. He braked, banked hard left and turned. He could feel the stress of the sudden maneuver, but he knew he could do more. He was at peace.
As he turned he found himself facing a flock of migrating geese. Going by the book, he had no chance to hit his target and be safe from colliding with the geese. He had no time to think, and he didn't. Revving up to get all the power he had, he banked right. The wings shuddered with the pressure, he pulled up, lost speed and gained a few meters, just enough to clear the geese and... stalled.
As he fell, he saw his target once again, still moving, still in open. He rolled and managed to balance himself while aligning his nose with the target. Others would consider his actions, a feat of great skill and would be awed. Here he was, who no longer had any recollection of anything that he had done or how he did it.
And as he lined himself to the target, he folded his wings and doing more than 250 Km per hour dived down, caught the rat and took off, back into the vast blue sky, never touching the ground once...
P.S: Falcons can dive at more than 180 mph, and never land. They're the best aces and the best flying machines that exist yet...
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