Chapter 7
Being a goose was is very different to being a falcon. Falcons, hawks and eagles are meant for lazy flying, soaring high up on the thermals, waiting for some tasty prey to come along. Falcons were great at aero-acrobatics, but they get knackered out really quickly. And all type of raptors, once they have eaten, pretty much lose the motivation to do anything for hours after that. They'll just sit in a tree, digesting their meal.
--I feel like I could go on forever!-- cried Maggie.
Geese, and swans, on the other hand, can fly forever. Their high powered wings are like the engines of a Bowing 747, relentlessly, tirelessly flapping onwards and onwards, for hours at a time. This is your captain speaking: We were cruising through the air, several miles up where the air was thinner, so as to avoid so much air resistance, and flying at around 45 miles an hour. It was difficult to tell, as there was nothing but sky to help us judge our speed, but the goose seemed to know. This was the goose's life, up here in the sky with its brothers. Not gathered around a pond, hissing at children and trying to steal their sandwiches.
The four of us were now in the familiar V formation. Sam was out the front, leading the way, with me and Maggie – in her graceful swan morph – right behind her. Philip was taking up the rear.
--Why do geese fly like this?-- I asked. --Why a V? What's wrong with an F shape?--
--It's to ensure that the geese at the back make the best possible use of the air, -- replied Maggie. --The goose in front reduces the air resistance so that the others can fly more easily. The further back you are, the easier it is to fly. It's more aerodynamic, and allows the birds to fly for longer.--
--What, so Philip's getting it easy?-- I said, slightly annoyed.
--'Fraid so!-- laughed Maggie. --But this will make you feel better. The V shape also allows for dominance. The further forward you are, the more important. The goose in lead is always the most dominant member of the group – and she's always female.--
--Score!-- laughed Sam. --I hope I don't get exhausted, though, being at the front?--
-- Geese usually swap positions every few hours, with a goose from the back coming to relieve the dominant goose at the front, so they don't get worn out,--Maggie continued.
--How do you know all this?-- I asked her, amazed by her knowledge.
--My parents used to work with animals and peoplein Africa and Australia,-- she said. --I used to spend all my holidays out there with them, so I kind of grew up with animals. I guess you just absorb useless information over the years.--
We flew on, the four of us, like miniature Air Force Ones. On and on, tirelessly through the air. I had no idea what Sam was thinking, whether she really did have some kind of plan to get us these five thousand miles, or whether she was just making it all up as she went along. The bit I was worried about was crossing the Atlantic. Whether we were geese or sharks or dolphins, the fact of the matter was, if we got tired and wanted a break, we couldn't just find the nearest island and take a nap. Once we'd started, there would be no turning back.
But hey, like I said before, I'm not one to dwell on things. I live for the moment, and worry about crossing bridges when I come to them. I slipped back into the goose mind and let my human mind take the passenger seat to enjoy the flight. The ground below us had become more and more rural as we flew away from the city, but eventually began to swing back into urban mode as we neared Birmingham. I was glad we had animals to do the flying for us – there's no way we'd have managed to go this far using human transport without getting lost. Our eyes were pretty good, not quite as sharp as our raptor morphs, but still good enough so that we could keep an eye on the motorway below. It turned out, however, that the geese knew how to fly in the same direction anyway. Geese are migratory, and have an excellent sense of direction. Far better than mine, I'd better add. Mind you, it's not that difficult to have a better sense of direction than me. A maggot has a better sense of direction than I do.
--Ok, guys, I think we're here,-- said Sam, after about an hour and three quarter's flight. --We'd better demorph. We've been geese and swans for almost two hours.--
--I'm hungry again!-- I whinged. –My goose body, and my human body!--
--Well,-- Sam said, speaking to me as if I was a moaning child in the back seat, --we can get something to eat again in Birmingham. Try and look for some money on the ground, before you demorph, if you can, I don't want to risk a scene like last time again.--
I laughed, in thought-speak. The scene Sam was referring to involved my attempts to steal a tray of hot dogs from a stand in Leeds. I'd swiped the tray, and legged it back to the roof of the Marks and Sparks building. The whole time, the fat guy who owned the stand had been yelling and chasing after me with a stick, raving like a lunatic. Luckily, I'd managed to out run him with no problems, but I had left a bunch of on-lookers looking rather amused.
We landed on the roof of some two story chip shop in the centre of Birmingham – or, as the locals call their city, Brummie. Sam, Philip and Maggie demorphed. Philip was still the fastest morpher, he was almost fully human before I'd even got rid of my feathers, but his morphs were still as weird to watch as mine or Sam's. Maggie, however, seemed to be able to control the order of her morphing, although it took her longer than the rest of us. I hung back in goose morph, scanning the ground for money (although all my goose brain seemed to be interested in was rubbish and junk food!) and eventually spotted a fiver on the ground below.
I demorphed, climbed down the fire escape and grabbed the fiver before some ragamuffin nabbed it. Entered the little takeaway and bought a bag of fish and chips with several sauces and four bottles of water. Greasy, messy, fatty chips, but oh-so-tasty to my starved human body. I took the stuff up to the others, proud of myself for not causing a scene like last time, and handed out the food and water. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but at least we were all happy chappies as we devoured our dinner. I sat next to Sam and we shared our chips and some garlic sauce. She must be the only other person I've ever met who likes garlic sauce on her chips.
"God, I haven't had a good British takeaway like this for years!" I laughed, dipping a chip into the smelly, creamy sauce. "I think my father would have a fit if he saw me now!"
"Aye, in between watching you turn into animals?" laughed Maggie, stuffing fish into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten for weeks.
"Got that right!"
Maggie eyed me for a second, tomato sauce smeared on her bottom lip.
"Are you, like, a lord or something?" she blurted, ignoring the arched eyebrows from Philip.
I laughed. "God, no! Me?" I cried. "Can you imagine me, as a lord?"
"Oh! Well I just thought, because you're so rich, and your voice, and Philip said you played polo and all…"
"Well, I suppose my family is rather grand." I said, with as much modestly as I could muster. It's quite difficult to be modest when you're talking about your ennobled family. "But we're not like royals or anything! We're not even that rich. More like old fashioned country squires. My great-uncle Edvard Lawless has a title though – he's formally known as Baron Archington, and owns quite a lot of land. One of his houses has a zoo - that's where we got most of our morphs from."
"Wow," she said, awestruck. I felt my cheeks going red again, my embarrassment fighting my pride of my family. "So will you be a baron one day?"
"Nah. Only the eldest sons inherit the glory. My grandfather was one of the 'spares', and my father was the youngest of all his brothers, so although we got a handsome house and some land, I won't get anything like my second-cousin will."
I winked at Maggie. "My cousin's looking for a nice lady to share his fortune with, I may add!" I laughed.
But Maggie did not laugh. Instead, she was staring at something behind me, a look of terror and confusion on her face. Sam and I turned round to see what see was looking at.
"Oh, my god," I muttered.
Sam was more direct. "CCTV!" she yelled.