The Birds by Tarjei Vesaas Page A

quickly and set off with long, springy steps. He was tanned and strongly built, too, obviously one of those terrific workers everybody wanted to get hold of, and was willing to hire for the highest wage – and one of those the girls liked to have around.
    But Mattis couldn’t forget that gleam in the youngster’s eyes. He was a fowler, and he might come back with a gun and lie in wait for the woodcock at the edge of the forest and simply shoot it down.
    Perhaps that very evening. Was it any wonder his stomach felt peculiar?
    He didn’t want to discuss it with Hege, because she’d realize then that it was he himself who’d told the news to the fowler. He’d tried to comfort himself by saying that everybody knew about it by now, but it was no use. Today he’d told the news to a fowler who’d come for the sole purpose of questioning him. Mattis had realized too late.
    His stomach felt worse as time went on.
    Outside it was turning into a nice warm evening. Overcast and the right smell of rain in the air, too. Mattis walked round the house, his face turned toward the bushes the whole time, as if to prevent someone from lying in wait there with a gun.
    The whole thing seemed so hopeless. The surrounding woods might be hiding a hundred youngsters with guns, even though hecouldn’t see a single one. Yet he felt he had to go on trotting around the house, staring into the bushes, into the patches of darkness that began to gather there. More and more frightened of the invisible guns. There might well be lots of them.
    No, no, no.
    He circled round the house. What good did it do really? The birds flew high in the air, and he couldn’t warn them until they were right over the roof – and not even then.
    He gave a sudden start: the flight was beginning. His heart stopped beating.
    The bird came.
    One, two, three, and away! Like a streak through Mattis. And the bird was allowed to continue its flight, no gun went off.
    Perhaps it was just imagination after all? No, his fears were not dispelled. The gun was bound to be here somewhere, it just didn’t go into action the first time.
    Mattis continued his pointless journey, round and round. Then he shouted a warning “Hey!” in to the bushes. There was no reply.
    “Hey!” he said in a louder voice.
    No reply. But a moment later there came a sound of something snapping. A soft, dangerous sound.
    Where was it? He hadn’t heard where it came from. He shouted louder. He was certain there was someone there.
    “Don’t!” came his next shout, straight out.
    “No one must do harm here!” he shouted.
    A deathly silence hung over the forest.
    There wasn’t much time left now, either, before the woodcock was due back a second time.
    “No!” he shouted. It sounded weak and breathless. He wasn’t sure if it was a warning to the hidden marksman not to commit a crime, or a warning to the flying bird not to come back this way. It was probably a bit of both.
    Tonight the forest was changed beyond recognition. The forest where Mattis normally felt safe – tonight everything seemed sinister and uncanny. The evening sky was flooding the clearing with light, yet from somewhere in among the bushes the barrel of a gun was probably poking out. This had a paralyzing and shattering effect on everything.
    Mattis was just about to shout for the third time when he heard the swishing of a bird’s wings. His mouth remained open without uttering a sound.
    No, said a voice inside him, silent, like a kind of lament. Powerless.
    Bang! came a thunderous report from the depths of the wood. So far away that Mattis hadn’t spotted the place. And up in the air a bird gave a little cry.
    Bang! came the muted echo from the hillside.
    Mattis stood rooted to the spot. First the thunderous noise went rolling past him like a dark cloud, then the dead woodcock came toppling down from the evening sky and thudded to the ground a few steps from where he stood.
    Still Mattis couldn’t move. He tried to bring some