Spix’s Macaw: The Race to Save the World’s Rarest Bird. Tony Juniper
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SPIX’S MACAW
THE RACE TO SAVE THE WORLD’S RAREST BIRD
Tony Juniper
Fourth Estate
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Fourth Estate
This edition first published in 2003
Copyright © Tony Juniper 2002 and 2003
The right of Tony Juniper to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9781841156514
Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2016 ISBN 9780007391776
Version: 2016-01-12
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For my Mother and Father
Contents
Chapter 5 What Are You Looking For at the End of the World?
Chapter 6 The Legions of the Doomed
Chapter 8 The Rarest Bird in the World
Chapter 11 An Extinction Foretold?
The blue parrot came to rest on a bare sun-bleached branch that stuck out from the bushy crown of a craggy old caraiba tree. The magnificent old plant, some 25 metres tall, was one in a long ribbon of trees that fringed a winding creek. The parrot had chosen a high branch, a natural vantage point. From his lofty position, the bird scanned the flat thorny cactus scrub that lay around in all directions. He climbed to a branch slightly lower down, using his feet and beak, checking behind and above for airborne predators. When hawks were hunting, a second of relaxation could cost him his life. Once the parrot was satisfied it was safe, he cried out, quite a harsh call, but thin with a trilling quality. He received a distant reply, and then another.
Moments later, from around a bend in the creek, two parrots appeared, flying fast and strong above the treetops. They followed the line of the green-fringed channel, their long tails flexed and strained against the air, their flowing blue plumes acting as a rudder to steer a course towards the huge tree. They spread their tails, rotated their wings backwards and fluttered to rest next to the bird already perched there. The thin branches swayed as they took the parrots’ weight. The birds’ scaly grey feet gripped tightly as the branches rocked gently back and forth. The parrots fluffed out their body and flight feathers and waggled their tails to ensure that their plumage lay correctly. This ritual ensured they would be ready for instant flight should they need to leave in a hurry. Finally, every feather in place, they settled down on the caraiba tree.