Squawk and Craw
Squawk was a one year old raven, living in New Forest, England. It was a wonderful place for a bird of any breed to live. They had it all – a place to call home, plentiful food, shelter when it rained, very few natural predators and, mostly importantly, freedom. Squawk just had one tiny little problem – he was afraid of heights. Oh, he could fly well enough, he just preferred to take off from the ground and land on the ground. And not fly much higher than an average sized house.
Squawk didn’t fully realise it, but his fear went back to when his mother first taught him to fly. Like most ravens, he started learning to fly by taking off from the ground. That hadn’t been his problem. His problem had been landing.
One windy day he had tried to land on top of a tall redwood tree, but had missed the branch he was aiming for and tumbled down through the tree, hitting branch after branch after branch for what felt to him like an eternity. When he finally reached the ground he found he had miraculously not broken either of his wings, but he had gotten several cuts and bruises and his poor little body ached for weeks. Worse, his brothers and sisters had seen him fall and found it hilarious. After that, he did not try to land on tall trees anymore. Even once he got better at landing, he was still fearful of flying too high. What if he encountered a hawk and was flying too high to find the cover of trees? What if he got hit by lightning? What if a fly flew into his eye and he lost control of his wings, causing him to plummet to his death? No, best to stay low, stay safe.
His brothers and sisters may have laughed at him – and continued to laugh at him every time they saw him sitting on a much lower tree branch than the ones they were sitting on – but Squawk still had a few friends. His best friend, Craw, had been trying to help him overcome his fear for months. He would often fly with Squawk at his low altitude, but then very slowly ascend, coaxing Squawk to follow him. They would usually start off well, but by the time they got up to about 25 to 30 metres, Squawk would get too scared and head back down. It was frustrating for both of them.
One day, Craw had a new idea. He had found a line of trees where each one was a little taller than the one next to it. There was a 10 metre tall tree, a 15 metre, a 19 metre, and so on, right up to a 51 metre tall redwood. The idea was simple: fly with Squawk from the top of one tree to another. Short distance, short ascent, somewhere to land when Squawk inevitably got nervous. They didn’t have to do every tree in one day, they could build up Squawk’s courage over a number of days or, if necessary, weeks. Craw refused to give up on his best friend, no matter how long it took.
On the third day of training, Squawk got up to the top of the 38 metre tree. He was actually quite proud of himself. But then it all went very, very wrong.
What goes wrong?
How will Squawk and Craw handle the situation?
By the end of the story, will Squawk have overcome his fear of heights? If so, how?
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