“Yers, I fell off the crag, didn’t I?
When I was really young, before I had feathers.
Slipped, rolled down the cliff, missed the stones
And somehow landed on soft grass.
Everything hurt, specially my head.
Got up, staggered around, shaking myself.
My mum was frantic, shouting for me.
I managed to meef back. She flew down and fed me,
Went off to get more food. I staggered some more.
You see, our cliffs have human caves in them,
Where humans live. There are stony bits
And grassy bits and then there’s a long hard bit
Where the roaring moving-rocks go up and down.
*
“Right by Our Crag is a massive red rock.
It could move. It’s got round things
But it stays where it is, never moves.
You can rely on it.
I like it. I used to trot under it
When I was scared by all the humans.
Still do sometimes.
Or when gulls from Other Crags come
And peck my food and me.
*
“Since me feathers grew and I learned to fly,
I’ve been going further.
Around all the Crags and cliffs and moving rocks
And food bags. I’m good at them.
I had fishnchips yesterday. And crisps.
There’s sea quite near and I’ve been and looked at it.
*
“No, I’ve never gone back to Our Crag.
At first I couldn’t because I couldn’t fly.
Then when I got me brown and white feathers
I didn’t want to because I was scared.
What if I fell off again?
I know I can fly now, but what if I forgot?
When I’m not flying or meefing at mum
I just trot around on the hard stuff and the grass.
My mum still comes down to feed me sometimes.
I can go under my Big Red Rock if I want.
Yers, actually I do. I like it here on the ground.”