Manxmouse. Paul Gallico

they won’t bother you if you keep out of their way,’ said the Captain. ‘But every so often if I come down too low, I encounter anti-aircraft fire. Hunters with shotguns.’

      At last the grey houses began to thin out and suddenly they came upon a most curious place that seemed to be an enormous field of stone on which sat hundreds of silver birds, but not like Captain Hawk or Billibird, or any others he had seen.

      ‘London Airport,’ his pilot commented.

      ‘But what are all those birds down there?’

      ‘Birds! Ha, ha, ha!’ laughed the Captain. ‘Those are aeroplanes, the things that people fly in. Here comes one now. We’ll have a look at it.’

      With a whoosh, a roar and a whine, an enormous four-engined jet passed by overhead to begin its descent, its vast expanse of wings blotting out the sun momentarily, and Manxmouse saw that its tail, instead of being flat like Hawk’s, was as high as two houses, one on top of another.

      ‘Did you ever see anything so silly?’ Captain Hawk said. ‘They can’t flap their wings; they can’t soar or glide; they make a noise and they smell. And they call that flying!’

      At that moment there was another strange noise: ‘Rackety-rackety! Clattery-clattery!’ Something that was a cross between a beetle, a dragonfly and a windmill whirled past them. Hawk had to veer off so sharply that Manxmouse was compelled to cling on for dear life.

      ‘What is it?’ Manxmouse cried in alarm.

      ‘Helicopter. Real crazy! I can’t understand what holds it up. The other thing at least has wings, even though they’re not my idea of wings. But that’s only an egg-beater. I don’t often come this way because it’s too dangerous for a bird. I had a friend once who was sucked into one of those jet engines and that was the end of him. But I wanted you to have a look-see.’