The Hawk

Chiptooth fought to catch his breath; he was shaking with fear. The hollow log he was hiding in was soft and rotten and wouldn’t keep the hawk out for long. It was dim and musty smelling; warm soft fungus squished wetly under his paws. His spear was securely strapped to his back but it was useless against the large predator. The log was his only protection and it wouldn’t do much to keep out the powerful raptor for long. He peeked out through an open end, hoping to see a better place to hide, but it was in the middle of an open field surrounded by tall grass; the safety of the forest was just so far away. There was no place to go. He could see the hawk perched on a nearby rock watching the log intently, waiting for Chiptooth to leave the safety of his shelter, waiting for him to make a mistake.

The red squirrel played nervously with his thick tail, sliding the fur between his paws. Chiptooth didn’t know what to do. He could either wait or run, no other choice really. If he ran he might be able to make it to the safety of the forest before the hawk could crush him with its powerful talons, or he could wait and hope it got bored or found different prey: neither was likely. The hawk was just too swift and could easily catch him before he could make it to the forest, and most squirrels knew not to venture out into the open field like this, so it was unlikely that the hawk would find better prey. He decided to wait hoping it got bored, seemed like the safest choice, and it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

The sun rose higher in the sky, its heat beating down on the earth; the log grew hotter. Chiptooth could still see the hawk waiting on its perch, a patient killer. Whenever he got too close to the log’s exit, the hawk would leap into the air and circle high above, ready to dive onto the squirrel and capture its prey. Chiptooth would then scurry deep into the log again, avoiding the hawk’s gaze. He was thirsty, the heat was starting to make him feel dizzy. He panted to cool his body but it made little difference, the air was too warm.

He was starting to feel faint. He could wait a little while longer but not forever. He still held onto the hope that the hawk would give up and leave, but Chiptooth underestimated the hawk’s persistence. The hawk grew angrier as the day wore on. It knew that the squirrel was still hiding in the log, but it was hungry and needed the meat.

Frantically, Chiptooth dug into the bottom of the log, in a futile hope of reach the soil and find water or something to cool his body just a little. He didn’t know what to expect, but it didn’t matter because he was desperate. The wood was soft and rotten making it easy for his claws to dig through. He made it to the soil under the log easily enough; it was cooler than the stifling air that surrounded him that made breathing so difficult. He dug deeper, throwing moist dirt behind him, needing to cool himself even a little.

The log shifted, ever so slightly, Chiptooth didn’t notice, he was too intent in digging, but the hawk did. It took to the air and circled high above.

Chiptooth wanted to dig just a little deeper, there was water here he knew it. Disaster struck. The log shifted drastically. It lost its stability and rolled onto its side, the hole turned to the sky, exposing Chiptooth the circling hawk. The predator saw an opportunity and dived. It crashed into the log, ripping at the hole in the soft wood.

Chiptooth was thrown hard to the ground. The hawk snapped at him. Its enormous beak just barely missing him. It pulled back and then snapped again. Chiptooth desperately tried to push himself away but he stuck by the quickly disintegrating log. Soon there would be nothing left of his shelter and he would be fully exposed to the hawk.

He rolled away just as the hawk snapped at him again. Its beak bit deep into the earth, just missing the squirrel. Chiptooth broke free from the log and ran. The hawk called out in frustration giving Chiptooth’s legs desperate speed. The hawk shot into the air screeching loudly. Chiptooth leaped over a rock and landed on the ground without losing any speed. He dived under a branch and scurried over a stump.

The forest was just ahead, he was so close, he was going to make it. The shadow of the hawk passed over his body. Chiptooth rolled instinctively just as the hawk crashed into the ground beside him. Dirt flew into the air from the impact. Chiptooth ran. The hawk jumped into the air and dived almost immediately. This time Chiptooth was too slow; he crushed under its weight and felt his back snap, its claws digging into his flesh. He couldn’t move. He was going to die, he was going to be eaten.

The hawk called out in triumph and covered its prey with its wings, hiding the squirrel from other predators. Chiptooth moaned in pain, his face pinned to the moist earth. He felt something sharp digging into his spine. He could move his legs, his back wasn’t broken. The spear he kept strapped to his back snapped in half and protected him from the impact. The hawk was too busy looking for potential challengers for his meal to notice the squirrel moving his legs underneath him. The hawk, believing its prey was paralyzed, lifted its leg to eat. Feeling the weight ease off him, Chiptooth bolted without hesitation. The startled hawk paused for a heartbeat giving the squirrel enough of a head start to make it to the forest and to the protection of the trees.

Chiptooth slowed as the familiar forest surrounded him, protected him. The hawk wasn’t going to give up its meal so easily. It crashed into the forest, flying through branches and leaves. Chiptooth was startled but recovered quickly. Hawks do not normally hunt so close to the great pines, fearing the armed squirrels with their spears and bows, knowing that enough of the small arrows would be able to take down even the largest of the birds of prey. He ran over fallen logs and jumped over ditches. With no other choice, he climbed the nearest tree, keeping the trunk between himself and the hawk. But the hawk circled around and flew at Chiptooth, its talons tearing deep into the bark.

He climbed as quickly as his nimble legs would allow him, moving up and around the tree to hide from the hawk. He found an open squirrel nest and dived in. A surprised squirrel looked at him wide-eyed. Before he could warn him of the dangers, the hawk stuck its head into the hole and snapped at Chiptooth. He threw himself back against the far wall, pushing the startled squirrel with him. Chiptooth felt some his belly fur get ripped out and a small wound open as the hawk’s beak found him. The hawk pulled its head out and tried reaching him with its talons. It grabbed Chiptooth in his foot. He felt the hawk’s immense power as he was nearly crushed by its strength. Chiptooth bit into the hard flesh with all his might.

He tasted blood as his long teeth dug deep into hawk flesh and felt bone crack as the hawk’s toe snapped. The hawk released Chiptooth and cried out in pain and fury. Chiptooth staggered back against the far wall in the nest. The other squirrel threw Chiptooth a spear.

They braced themselves as the hawk stuck its head in pecked at them. The squirrel stabbed at the hawk but missed anything vulnerable, hitting the rock-hard beak. The spear glanced off doing nothing. Chiptooth stabbed at the hawk at the same time. His spear cut deep into the fleshy cheek, tearing a deep gash up into its eye. Blood and jelly sprayed Chiptooth in a warm fountain.

The hawk screeched in agony and roared in frustration as it fell from the tree. Chiptooth and the squirrel waited for another attack that never came. Gingerly, Chiptooth peeked his head out of the nest. There were a few splatters of blood on the ground below and around the edge of the nest, but no sign of the hawk. He waited a while longer before deciding that the hawk must have flown away.

He handed the spear back to the squirrel, nodded his thanks, and left the nest. The great pine was close and he made it without seeing the hawk. When he reached his own nest his mate rushed to his side and helped him clean his wound. He was safe with his family. Tomorrow he’ll have to try to find food in the field again.