The Turtle of Oman by Naomi Shihab Nye Page A

there’s where you turned and came back. I found it under my chair while you were running.”
    Aref took the stone and held it between his palms. “It’s so hot.” He stared at it. The crisscrossing lines really did look like a map.
    â€œNow look at this!” Sidi said, pointing off to the right.
    A man they hadn’t seen before, wearing a leather jacket and red pants with fringes, was walking toward them with a giant falcon sitting on his shoulder. The falcon had a leather hood on its head and was sitting upright and still, with wings tightly tucked at its sides. Aref had seen falcons before, but he’d never met one personally.
    â€œ Marhaba —hello!” said the man. “My name is Jamal. You like to meet my friend?”
    â€œ Walla —sure!” said Aref.
    Sidi greeted Jamal, who said, “I am staying at the camp for a week, doing some training with my bird.”
    â€œWere you here last night?” Sidi asked.
    Jamal shook his head. “We weren’t sleeping—we were off on the ridge staying awake for many hours.”
    Aref knew this was how a trainer disciplined a falcon—they both had to stay awake for a long time till the falcon took orders properly. It seemed a little extreme.
    Sidi looked interested. “Aref, did you know the falcon is the fastest flyer in the world?” he asked.
    â€œOf course,” said Aref. “They can peck your eyes out too. Their beaks are very strong.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Jamal said. “My friend’s name is Fil-Fil—pepper—for the spots on his wings.” He took Fil-Fil’s hood off. Aref stepped two paces back, without thinking.
    When Jamal made a clucking sound with his tongue, Fil-Fil shot off his arm like a rocket. He soared in the direction the camels had gone, becoming a distant spot. He glided high, then dipped lower and shot up again, circling twice, and zooming back toward them—a wildly speeding blur. It appeared he could change directions like magic, swooping and veering. Coming closer again, Fil-Fil circled their heads.
    Aref covered his face. “Yow, that’s too CRAZY!!!!”
    â€œLook! Look!” said Jamal. “Watch what he does now!”
    Jamal whistled sharply. Somehow, Fil-Fil put on his bird-brakes high in the air, curled around, dipped down and managed to land perfectly on Jamal’s arm. He tipped forward to catch his balance, then rocked back and was still. Sidi and Aref looked at each other and opened their eyes wide.
    â€œYou want him to land on your arm?” Jamal asked Aref. “You want to hold him?”
    â€œSure!” Aref said, after a second. He felt a little scared when he said it.
    â€œHe is the smartest bird I ever knew,” said Jamal. “I have known many falcons personally, but Fil-Fil is outstanding. He flies farther, faster, and always comes back instantly to my command. We were just having an intense training session the other night because he was making up his own rules. Please notice, he seems proud to meet you. He likes it when people watch him fly.”
    Jamal pulled a second leather landing pad out of a pocket in his jacket and wrapped it around Aref’s arm, fastening it tightly with some strips of cloth. Aref blinked. He stared at Fil-Fil’s huge, hooked claws.
    Jamal placed his large arm alongside Aref’s much smaller one and clucked to the falcon. The bird stepped over onto Aref’s arm, staring straight into his face. Aref took a deep breath. He slowly turned his face to Sidi. “Look!”
    â€œHe’s excited,” said Jamal. “He wants to fly some more.”
    Sidi was watching everything closely, not saying a word.
    Jamal made a tiny whistling sound and Fil-Fil expanded his speckled wings, opening them wide as if displaying their glory. Then Jamal clucked again. Fil-Fil rose up with a strong spring into the air. Aref’s arm fell hard when he launched.