Ep 6: The Rats

28 MINS

‘I reckon you’re ‘an ‘oming pigeon.’  A journey through the tunnels of the London Underground; a surprise visitor and an attemped rescue leave Iridesco stranded a long way from home.

Iridesco: A Homer’s Odyssey is an almost fictional story about a flock of feral pigeons in lockdown. Set in Brighton, London and the countryside in between, it follows the lives of Iridesco, Lulu, Dolly and Dove as they embark on a journey that teaches them about the dangers and delights of life as a bird and the relationship between humans, pigeons and homing pigeons.

Part adventure story, part rom-com, the series features raucous crows that speak in iambic pentameter, a trip along the Regent’s Canal and a mysterious code of honour that all birds must follow.

Writer/narrator: Kitty Fisher  Music : The Big Push   https://www.thebigpushband.com/  Producer : Dominic North  Artwork: Lotte North  Sound effects: Freesound   https://freesound.org/  Original story idea: Ed Hill.

Transcript

Episode 6: The Rats

The Thames glinted with sunlight and at low tide a small beach had appeared below the embankment. Amongst the sand and gravel, broken fragments of smoothed glass caught the light and tiny pieces of blue and white china lay washed up in a wavy line that marked out high tide.

The pigeons walked along the beach pecking at this and that or flying up to perch on rotting oak stumps of ancient bridges. Iago flew over to a rock shaped like a large basin. The centre was hollow  and inside, a sparkling pool of clear water was warmed by the sun. Iridesco perched on the edge, deep in thought.

“I’m awfully sorry about last night.” ventured Iago. “I hear you had a spot of trouble with some of the... less refined inhabitants of the East End. I’d like to say that will be the end of it but I’m afraid it probably won’t.”

“What do you suggest I do about it?” asked Iridesco. 

“Well I dare say I could smooth things over for you.” said Iago. “Of course I don’t normally get involved in these situations but I feel responsible. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll have a word with them.”

“Thanks. I’m really greatful.”

That afternoon they flew back over the river to Hoxton. Roma and Dove left earlier. They followed a large, ugly road north until it splayed out like an octopus in every direction. High above the city it was easy to spot the tower blocks of De Beauvoir Town. The record shop would be in that direction. Lulu was ahead of the others. London filled her with excitement: the strange buildings, crazy window displays and ancient streets with names that conjured up smells and sounds of the past: Pudding Lane, Primrose Hill and Threadneedle Street. From the sky it was like looking at an intricate model that revealed more details the closer you looked. Iridesco and Iago were almost out of sight now. She wondered what was keeping them.

As they passed the city and headed east, Iago spoke. “This neighbourhood could be dangerous for you after yesterday’s incident. Come this way.”

Iridesco followed Iago as he led him down amongst the buildings until he was perched on the sign for Old Street tube station. Without stopping to explain, Iago shot down the steps and through the barriers. They flew down a further set of escalators and along a tunnel until a sharp turn brought them out onto a platform. 

Groundlings were stepping into transparent perspex doors, moving through a metal cylinder and seating themselves in rows along the inside. Most wore masks and gloves, some stood staring out at the pigeons as they perched on plastic seats.

Within seconds, the doors shut and the metal cylinder shot away into a tunnel.

Iridesco was nervous. Although he was a city bird he had never seen anything like this before. Warm air emanated from the tunnel entrances that loomed on either side of the platform. Along the tracks, tiny black mice scurried amongst the debris and the rails trembled with a low rumbling sound as the train slithered into the darkness.

Iago perched on the empty platform, cocking his head sideways. “It’s three minutes to Hoxton through this tunnel; there won’t be any trains for another ten.”

Iridesco looked into the darkness. It was impossible to see what was ahead. In the canal, a speck of light had guided them to the exit and the cool air and scent of the water felt calm and reassuring. This was like descending into the bowels of some slumbering beast. He didn’t like it.

 “If you’re afraid we can always take another route.” said Iago, offhandedly.

 “No, let’s go.” said Iridesco.

He plunged into the darkness, trying not to think about anything except getting to the other end.

Inside the tunnel the air seemed to suck them in. The darkness was so intense that it was almost impossible to fly. He flapped his wings in an exaggerated pantomime, hoping to scare off anything that might be lurking against the walls. Gradually his eyes began to adjust and he could pick out dull specks of light that ran along the walls. He tried to listen for the sound of Iago’s wings flapping but the dull buzz of electricity filled his head.

Suddenly a speck of light appeared ahead. They must be reaching the end of the tunnel. Iridesco  breathed a sigh of relief. Flying towards the light he realised something was wrong; two blinding headlights surged towards him and the air shook. He stared in disbelief. A train? Where was Iago?  Remembering the mice he had seen from the platform he descended to the floor and lay flat between the rails. The train tore through the tunnel, steel wheels slicing the air and sucking his feathers towards them. He used his claws to cling to the rough surface of the concrete like a rock climber grasping at fragments of flint on a chalk cliff. Eventually the train passed and he carefully raised his head. The tunnel was empty.

He flew as fast as he could until he reached the station, madly flapping until he found an exit. Outside, his claws dug into the reassuring bark of a London plain tree, its smooth trunk patterned in soft grey camouflage. He remained there for some time, breathing in the damp scent of the bark until his heartbeat steadied.

He rose to the air and surveyed the buildings below until he recognised some familiar sites. He was only a few minutes from the record shop.

Lulu stood on the roof looking up at the sky. When she finally saw Iridesco she waved up at him, flapping her wings excitedly.

“Hey, what happened to you and where’s Iago?” she asked. 

“We took a detour through a tunnel. There was a train.”

Lulu’s eyes opened wide.“Iago’s insane. ”

He thought back to the day they arrived at the Globe and wondered if he had done something to make Iago hate him. Did he even need a motive? Some creatures were just intent on causing trouble for others. But where was Iago now?

“I’m going back to the station to look for him.” He said.

Lulu looked incredulous. “Why? He doesn’t deserve it! He’s probably just hiding somewhere, thinking up some other plan to get you killed.”

“Yes, but he might really be hurt. I’ll never know if I don’t check.”  Iago might have been a low life but that didn’t mean he had to stoop to his level.

Before Lulu could change his mind he left the shop and retraced his journey back to the tube station. It was busier now and he had to fly into a crowd of groundlings exiting into the street. He flew over the barrier and back down into the station. As he arrived, a train sailed off out of sight into the darkness.

He listened. The tunnel was silent apart from the now distant rumbling of the train. He wondered when the next train was due. There were already groundlings filling the platform.  He took a deep breath and was swallowed up by the darkness. Nervously he flew further in, holding his breath and straining his ears. Then he heard it. A faint whimpering sound and the shuffling of feathers in the dust.

He flew down onto the floor of the tunnel and stepped forward, “Iago?”

The whimpering continued and now he could hear ragged breathing, as though the creature was struggling to stay alive.

“Over here.”

He moved forward, stepping cautiously in the direction of the sound. He climbed over a rail and put his wings forward until he felt the wall of the tunnel. Next to him he could hear muffled breathing. He felt with his beak and began to make out a shape.

“Are you hurt?” Iridesco whispered into the darkness.

“I think I must have been hit by the train and passed out. You came back for me. Why?” 

He couldn’t see Iago’s expression in the darkness but his tone was full of remorse

 “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

Iago was silent. “Well I...I haven’t exactly been...” Iago trailed off. His natural jealousy and hatred was not something he could overcome in a moment. Still, it was easier to have this conversation in the dark. Like a confessional, there was less sense of being judged.

Iridesco helped Iago to his feet and supported him as he stumbled along the tunnel. They limped along the side of the track; it was slow going and each minute the danger of another train coming increased.

Although it was dark, Iridesco could feel the warm sticky blood on Iago’s feathers. He didn’t know how badly he was injured but he was slowing down and talking less. Along the walls, scurrying sounds and sniffing suggested that something was following them. He felt a scaly tail flick against his legs and then a squeaking sound that passed along the tunnel. How many? Ten? Twenty? He wondered whether rats would kill an injured bird quickly or drag it down below the ground before gnawing on the flesh. He imagined a pile of bones and feathers rotting in a Victorian sewer and shuddered. Lulu and the others would never know what had happened.

They could see the lights of the platform now. It was close enough to fly to in a couple of seconds but stumbling along the side of the track pursued by hungry rats it would take a lot longer. Behind them it was pitch black but then a flicker of light appeared in the distance. Although it was clear that this was a train, the light revealed a far more terrifying sight: the outlines of thousands of hungry rodents. Attracted by the smell of blood they had spewed from the pipes and scurried up to where the pigeons limped along the track.

The rats stopped for a moment as if deciding what to do. Then, as the lights of the train filled the tunnel, they fanned out into the darkness leaving the pigeons to flatten themselves against the wall. Being closer to the platform now, the train was slower and easier to avoid but as it continued on its journey it was clear that Iago would not be able to fly up onto the platform. Iridesco peered into the tunnel; hundreds of eyes stared back. If he flew away, he was sure the rats would make their move. 

As they waited, a guard looked down onto the track. Someone was pointing in their direction. A long pole was extended toward them and a net was placed over Iago. Iridesco watched as he was hoisted onto the platform and emptied out into a cardboard box. There was some discussion; the guard looked at his watch and gave the box to the passenger. Iridesco flew up and perched on the electronic sign, watching as a train arrived and took the passenger, and Iago away.

Back in Hoxton Street the pigeons cheered and flapped their wings when they saw Iridesco. It was a relief to know that Iago was not lying helplessly bleeding on the tracks but they wanted to forget him now. The sun glowed reddish pink and insects buzzed in the last of the daylight. As the pigeons sat watching the sun go down a creature flew towards them. It was impossible to see more than an outline but it was flying at an incredible speed. Within a few seconds it started to descend, clearly heading straight for them.

It was a pigeon. Its wings flapped frantically as it lowered its pink claws and crashed down a chimney pot like a kamikaze pilot aiming for the funnel of a submarine. A cloud of soot engulfed them and then an echoing cough emanated from the chimney. It was several minutes before a face appeared, blackened by soot, eyes screwed closed and beak firmly shut. Shaking its head it opened its eyes, stared for a moment and broke into a smile. “Got any grubs?”

“Eddie?” they exclaimed in unison. This pigeon was most certainly Eddie the Eagle. His eyes and expression were the same but what had once been a bedraggled, greasy body was transformed to powerful muscles despite being covered in soot.

The friends looked him up and down in surprise and admiration, smiling and nodding approvingly.

Eddie must have realised the confusion. “I suppose I’ve changed a bit since you last saw me. I stopped hanging around with the junkies and drunks. I’ve been clean for a while now...sea swimming, macrobiotic diet, yoga. But you guys don’t look so bad yourselves.”

It was true. They had left Brighton greasy and overweight teenagers, satisfied sitting on the same old rooftop waiting for food to appear. Now they were sleek and strong. Eddie had seemed ancient when they had last seen him. Now it was as if he had been reborn. 

“How did you find us?” asked Dove.

“Your friend Roger sent a messenger to the mews with word about Dolly. He said you were travelling to Trafalgar Square. It didn’t take long to find you from there.” He paused, unsure how to carry on. “I came to tell you about Ma.  She’s off her food...asking after you all the time. A lot of the birds in Brighton aren’t doing so well now. Some have left but the older ones don’t have the strength to find new homes. Food is scarce. ”

“We’ll go back tonight.” said Iridesco.

“I’ll come with you.” added Roma.

They took to the sky as soon as Eddie had time to refuel. It would be dangerous to fly at night but they would keep going for as long as they could. 

 Constellations of stars were becoming visible against the evening sky. The birds flew south this time, following the main roads that glowed below them like a slow moving stream of red lava. They passed over the North Downs and continued on towards the sea.

 When the sky was completely dark they flew lower, following  street lamps along back roads. Clouds of insects flitted through the glow of the lights pursued by leathery winged bats. The pigeons were stronger now and were able to fly much further than when they had first left home. Although it was harder to navigate in the dark, they continued to go south, picking up the scent of sea salt with their beaks.

It was almost light when they arrived back in the mews. A few birds roosted on the grey slate roof tops and the gulls were silent. They were exhausted but desperate to find Ma or any of the other birds they knew. Perching on a balcony overlooking the houses one of the older birds was stirring. Lulu flew over to join him.

“Where’s Ma?” she asked.

The bird gestured over to number six. “She’s in there. She’s been ailing something terrible. They took her in.”

Lulu flew over to the window sill of number six and looked inside.

In a plastic box on the table Ma sat on a towel. A cardboard porridge box had been placed on its side and the top of a milk carton was filled with seeds. Next to it, an egg cup of water stood untouched. Ma looked terrible. Her once plump body was now scrawny and her eyes were partially closed. One wing hung down and the other was hunched up at an awkward angle.

The pigeons were shocked. It was still quite dark outside and the groundlings in the buildings around the mews were in a deep sleep. Iridesco tapped his beak on the window and Dove and Lulu joined him, desperately trying to get Ma’s attention.

Eventually Big Daddy came downstairs and opened the window. Seeing the pigeons looking in, he opened the door and turned to the kitchen where he kept a bag of bird seed. In a flash they flew up onto the table and pecked at the hard plastic box. Ma opened her eyes and looked up. Recognising Iridesco, she stood but wobbled and fell sideways knocking over the water.

Big Daddy returned from the kitchen with a bag of bird seed and half-heartedly shooed the birds out of the door. They hovered round outside, waiting for a chance to mount a rescue. After what seemed like hours, the door opened and Little Chick emerged carrying the box with Ma inside. She opened the door of the car and climbed in, placing the box on her lap. Big Daddy got into the driver’s seat and they reversed into the street. 

The car started to pull away, turning right towards the seafront and then left, in the direction of the Palace Pier. Iridesco followed. It was easy to keep up with the car as it drove through the town.

 Each set of traffic lights gave him a chance to stop and peer inside but he couldn’t see Ma’s face. As they reached the top of the hill the flats on the cliff above the marina gave way to open countryside. A golf course and playing fields replaced houses, and below the cliffs, the chalk turned the sea a milky green.

He needed to fly faster now. The car sped along the cliff top and turned inland through villages and farms. Eventually it parked outside a pink bungalow. Big Daddy and Little Chick stepped out, carrying Ma in the plastic box. In a few minutes they had disappeared inside. When they emerged Ma was nowhere to be seen. Iridesco flew over the house and perched in the back garden. A shed ran the length of the bungalow on one side and he flew up onto the window sill and looked in.

Along one wall various cages held injured birds. A seagull looked angrily out of the first and a starling sat in the next one. Two or three cages contained pigeons and a dejected looking owl occupied the last box. Ma was not there.

He walked across the lawn and looked into the kitchen. Ma sat in the plastic box on the dining table. A groundling stood over her with a jar of liquid. Placing a syringe into the jar, he held it up to the light before pushing it into her beak and placing her back onto the towel. Ma closed her eyes.

Iridesco remained on the window sill all that day. He had decided to wait and see what the groundlings did next. He was pleased that Ma had seen him through the window that morning. At least she knew they were safe. If they took her somewhere else he would follow them again and might be able to help her escape.

By evening the wind picked up. The sky was grey and heavy raindrops began to fall. After scouting around the garden, Iridesco managed to find a dry spot between some bushes and the shed along the side of the house. He climbed onto a branch and made his way towards the centre, as far away from danger as possible. He felt too worried to sleep but eventually drifted off, dreaming of cats wearing masks and trains driven by mad rats chasing him over the cliffs and into the sea. He awoke just as the train rumbled over his body. Shaking his head he stumbled out of the bush and flew onto the roof of the shed. The rumbling noise in his dream had been the sound of a garage door opening and a car driving away. He flew back down to the windowsill and peered inside. The box was not on the table or in the shed. Ma was gone.

Iridesco was just in time to see the car turn right on the coast road. The rain had set in now and the sky was leaden. His feathers were soaked and every gust of wind that blew inland from the sea brought the salt spray lashing at his face like a whip. He closed his eyes and pushed forward but the wind was so powerful it blew him off course and he felt himself being hurled back.

The car continued along the road following the contours of the cliff. Yesterday he had been able to keep pace easily but today the wind was against him. He tried flying below the road, where he was sheltered by the cliff but the wind pummelled his feathers and a swirl of spray made it difficult to see where he was going.

As he edged forward, pieces of falling rock rained down from above taking him with them. He landed on the path below and huddled close to the base of the cliff avoiding an avalanche of rocks.

Suddenly a huge wave rushed in from the sea, exploding on the concrete wall and hurling shingle across the path. He attempted to fly to a less dangerous spot but the swirling foam engulfed him, dragging him through a drainage hole and into the angry sea.

As he opened his beak to breathe, salt water poured into his mouth and nostrils, filling his lungs as he gasped for air. For a moment he was breathing freely and then another wall of water crashed over him and he felt as though his chest would explode. 

It was cold when he came to. The icy water had soaked deep into his feathers and puckered the skin beneath. At first the warmth had been comforting and then a slimy rough tongue dragged inself across his face and sharp teeth closed around his body and lifted him into the air.

The smell simultaneously brought him round and made him want to be sick. Then he heard the sound of feet running across the shingle and a gruff voice calling out.

“Drop it. Put that down.”

A rugged unshaven face and broken teeth loomed over him. The groundling paused to get his breath back then prised open the dog’s jaw, carefully extracting him and lifting him into the air. Iridesco felt himself being turned upside down.  He stared into the mouth of this terrifying giant. The groundling coughed several times and took out a big handkerchief to blow his nose. He was sure he was going to be eaten and trembled at the thought of those crooked teeth clamping down on his body and crunching his bones.

The giant looked him over, seemed satisfied with what he saw and placed Iridesco into his pocket and walked up the beach and across the shingle. 

The pocket was smelly and dark but strangely comfortable. The smell was of tar, tobacco and damp dog biscuits mingled with leather and canvas. Despite his fears, the steady crunch of the man’s feet on the shingle and the darkness inside the pocket soothed him and he soon drifted off to sleep.

He was awakened by a hand rummaging around in the pocket and extracting a key. The crunch of shingle and the distant call of gulls receded and Iridesco sensed that they were now inside a room. He could hear the dog’s claws tapping on the floor and the keys clunking on a hard surface. 

Suddenly the big hand plunged into the pocket again and Iridesco was lifted out. He was inside a caravan. A table took up most of the room and cushioned benches ran along the wall.  Above one of the benches ran a shelf of books sandwiched between two dusty speakers. At one end a stainless steel sink and kitchen area was surrounded by cupboards and at the other end a white cape encrusted with rhinestones hung on a peg by the bed.

From where Iridesco stood he could see out of a window behind the cushioned bench. Mobile homes were parked opposite. The doors and windows were shut and deckchairs and picnic tables were stacked under tarpaulins. A gnome smiled across at him from the steps of a caravan about ten feet away.

Iridesco looked at the window. There seemed no obvious way of getting out. Just then the big hands seemed to block out all escape routes. The man picked him up and carefully extended both of his wings. He looked into his eyes and inside his beak. Then he checked his tail and legs.  The ring that had come from his father had gone, but a faint line remained where it had rubbed against his leg. The man looked carefully at the mark and muttered to himself.

“I reckon you’re an ‘oming pigeon.” he declared. “What do you think, Bullseye?” The chihuahua let out a muffled whine and stared up at the table. Iridesco was placed in a basket with a metal door at the front and the basket was put on the shelf above the bench. It was a relief to be somewhere warm and sheltered, but Iridesco needed to get home. 

It was several days before he felt completely well again. His near drowning experience had left his lungs full of sea water and he wheezed when he inhaled. In the caravan the groundling, Bill, let him fly from the shelf over to the kitchen cabinets but there was a tightness in his chest and he was glad to stop and perch in the garden where he could get his breath back. 

On the beach opposite, sea cabbage and kale sprouted amongst the shingle and flowers were beginning to bloom in yellow and purple patches between the black timbered fishermen’s huts and upturned boats. Bill had worked as an Elvis impersonator at the holiday camps along the coast but now he spent the evenings serenading Bullseye and Iridesco. One evening as Bill sat at the table looking at his computer, he spoke. 

(Background music Elvis)

 “Look at this, Boy.” he showed Iridesco the screen, stroking his feathers absentmindedly as he typed with one finger.

 Bill read slowly as Iridesco perched on his arm.

 “Look ‘ere. This ‘oming pigeon risked its life to save hundreds of soldiers in the war. And this one flew home after being shot. He even got a medal for bravery. How about that? Anyway, I’m getting distracted. I don’t think I can find where you came from without the leg tag but maybe you’ll go ‘ome by yourself once you’re well. I ‘spect someone’s missin’ you.”

 Bill thought for a minute and found a pen and a piece of paper. He scribbled something on the scrap then rolled it up.  He then rummaged in the kitchen drawer and found a drinking straw and snipped off a small piece. Placing the paper inside the straw, he looked in a jar and found a strip of plastic coated wires for sealing freezer bags. Threading it carefully through the straw, he held Iridesco under his arm and secured the wire around his leg, carefully tucking the loose ends back into the straw.

Iridesco struggled free and flew onto the shelf out of Bill’s reach. The leg band felt strange at first but it was lighter than the one his father had given him and  stepping from one foot to the other he found that he hardly noticed it. He hopped down from the shelf and landed on the keyboard of the computer. The screen scrolled up and he jumped away in fright. When he looked back he saw something that made him stop in his tracks: A picture of a group of racing pigeons. The image on the screen was of a photograph and appeared worn and faded but the bird in the centre was unmistakably his father, George. He stood next to another bird with a rosette and a trophy just in front of him below the podium. The pigeons stared confidently into the camera.

The caption below meant nothing to Iridesco but Bill was also looking at the screen and read it out:

“Champion racing pigeons George and Dessy set new record after flying from Paris to London in under five hours. Owner, Dean Talbot of the Gravesend Racing Pigeon Association says he is very proud of them.”

“That one looks just like you don’t ‘e?” said Bill looking at Iridesco and then back at the screen. “Sometimes I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. I suppose I’d better make something to eat, although I don’t feel hungry at all these days. Those sausages I bought don’t have no flavour.” He let out a wheezy cough and sat down, clutching his knees for support. “I think I’ll just put a bit of grain out for you while I have a rest.” He got up slowly and made his way over to the bed at the end of the caravan, pulling his Elvis cape up over his ears, he lay on his side and closed his eyes.