Squirrel & Owl

Night had fallen on the promenade. Dr Hoot glided from railing to railing emitting his characteristic hoots. It had been a long day, but he was energised by the cool night breeze and the thrill of open-air flight. It wasn't easy work but it was a nice change from sitting in an office all day.

Six months ago, Dr Hoot had been a promising post-doc researcher in xenolinguistics — the study of non-owl languages. An academic career had seemed the obvious choice. From young, he realised that languages came naturally to him. He frequently found himself patiently helping his classmates with simple phrases and quizzing them at random times in the day to hone their language skills. Natural teacher instincts, he had been told. Add to that the complementary effect a pair of bookish glasses had him, and it was no wonder he dove headfirst into a doctorate without much further consideration.

A figure darted across the wooden boards, interrupting his thoughts. A squirrel. A bit fidgety but more pleasant than the toad from the last round at least. Dr Hoot launched himself off the railing and skilfully swooped towards the target. He slowed slightly as he closed in, raising his claws to carefully grab the target, then flapped his wings vigorously several times to regain altitude.

"I'm Nutmeg. To Dover Forest please," his new passenger called out.

"Dr Hoot. Of course," Dr Hoot replied, and began navigating north-west.

It was considerate of Nutmeg to give him a running start. Particularly since she seemed to be on the heavier side for a squirrel. A pickup at speed was easier and safer for all involved, with lower acceleration and less chance of injury than a stationary take-off.

The addition of owls to the Generally Roaming Airborne Bird (GRAB) service allowed the service to operate beyond the hours of daylight. Many actually preferred the quieter and nimbler owls to the noisier herons and egrets who operate the service during the day. Owls made their presence known with simple, discreet hoots, whereas the larger birds prefer what can only be described as a cacophony of squawks. The ability of owls to flap their wings noiselessly, glide silently, and keep their thoughts to themselves whilst flying meant that passengers could enjoy a peacefully silent journey across the night sky. By contrast, a journey with the daytime crew normally involved a continuous barrage of raised squawks.

A small coo rang out from underneath Dr Hoot. A small head peeked out and was excitedly surveying the landscape below.

"That's Meg. It's her first time flying at night," Nutmeg explained.

Dr Hoot smiled in acknowledgement and gradually descended to just above the tree-level to give Meg a closer look.