The Nature Saviours: Ghost of the Mountains

By Tracey Jane Hall

It all started on the beach when they met a bigger than average herring gull, called Rocky Foreshore. He takes them to a magical place called Mirrorland, a 'Noah's Ark' type of safety net for the world's animals, overseen by an extinct dodo, called Derek.
After Derek recruits Evie and Zak and shows them the horrors of poaching an endangered animal, they embark on a journey full of wonder and excitement to help rescue a snow leopard mother and her four cubs from the danger of evil poachers.
Now the adventure really begins! First book in The Nature Saviours series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Feb 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781528981125

Tracey Jane Hall

Tracey Jane Hall lives with her husband in Surrey and when she reached her 50s, she embarked on the book she had always promised herself she would write. Her love of nature and concerns about the state of the planet inspired her to write books to encourage the next generation to appreciate the wonder of the natural world and its vulnerability.

Book preview

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About the Author

Tracey Jane Hall lives with her husband in Surrey and when she reached her 50s, she embarked on the book she had always promised herself she would write.

Her love of nature and concerns about the state of the planet inspired her to write books to encourage the next generation to appreciate the wonder of the natural world and its vulnerability.

Dedication

Dedicated to Margaret, my mum, who passed away in 1985. I wish she was still here to read this.

Copyright Information

Copyright © Tracey Jane Hall (2020)

The right of Tracey Jane Hall to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528981118 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528981125 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Thank you to those who helped me realise my dream of writing a book. My husband for his love, support and continued reassurance. Our grandchildren for being the inspiration; to Jess Garner for her editorial help, right at the beginning; to Sara Friar for her amazing snow leopard and dodo illustrations; and to Caroline Thorne for being the first and most enthusiastic reader who, in her words,

‘Loved every page’.

Himalayas, Nepal

The sun is rising over the mountains. The clear Himalayan air makes the sunrise truly spectacular. As it rises, the first soft, then brighter orange light, falls across the rugged terrain, still covered in snow. Everything is still. There are no birds singing and the silence seems to hurt your ears.

Suddenly, a mysterious shape moves swiftly from behind a rock. Further along the mountain slope is another shape – not as solid as the first, more fragile. Slim legs and athletic physique make the Himalayan blue sheep¹ an ideal candidate for climbing these treacherous slopes on the sheer sides of the mountain. Hidden in the shadows, the blue sheep is unaware of the first shape and the danger it brings. The predator takes its chance and moves closer.

Going low on her haunches, the snow leopard’s large paws have an excellent grip and her long tail provides the balance she needs as she moves slowly and deliberately towards her prey. Hugging the side of the mountain and moving with ease, she gets closer. The blue sheep looks up. It has heard something. Its ears rotate like radars, picking up every noise in the stillness of the mountains. The snow leopard stops in her tracks, totally still as if she were playing a game of Musical Statues. The blue sheep turns its head and continues to nibble at the sparse vegetation on the rock. The snow leopard breaks her statue-like pose and silently positions herself above her prey.

Now the big cat breaks into a run down the slopes, hugging the hillside as she goes. Her magnificent coat acts as camouflage against the rock, keeping her hidden from the blue sheep. She stops and crouches, keeping low. Suddenly with lightning speed, she springs and lands on the same ledge as her prey. Looking up, eyes wide in horror, the blue sheep leaves its meal and runs. The chase is on. Bounding at high speed from ledge to ledge, both creatures move gracefully and expertly in this race for life.

The chase has an audience.

Lower down the mountain, hiding in the shadows that have been thrown by the early morning light, are three distinctive shapes. They watch with interest as the snow leopard leaps down the mountain in their direction. Quietly and deliberately, the larger man puts the shotgun in the crook of his neck and his finger on the trigger.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp noise breaks the silence. The two creatures flee in separate directions. The bullet ricochets off the rock with a sharp ping. The three men run up from their hiding place. Another shot rings out, followed by angry shouts. They are the losers as they see the huge tail of the snow leopard disappear. Luckily, their efforts to shoot the beautiful cat have failed – this time.

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The blue sheep is part of the goat family. They have a blue-grey coat that camouflages them in the mountains. They have big horns that grow upwards and then stick out to the side.↩

Brittany, France

A thousand miles away on the west coast of France, Rocky Foreshore was getting ready for one of his trips. He wasn’t sure where he would end up; he never was. Some days, Rocky fancied a bit of culture, and he would look through one of the old newspapers that had been carelessly abandoned by those humans (the adult ones were the worst!) and flip to the travel section. That was how he’d ended up going to Paris. ‘The heart of culture,’ said the advert, ‘and only a short flight away. Don’t delay and book today!’

‘I don’t need to book,’ exclaimed Rocky out loud. One of his habits was to talk (or squawk) to himself quite a lot. ‘That’s one of the best things about being a bird: you have wings and can go wherever you want, whenever you want!’ squawked Rocky.

Rocky Foreshore was a formidable sight. He was a herring gull¹, but with a difference. Rocky was a larger-than-average herring gull, with a larger-than-average yellow beak and larger-than-average pink legs and feet. His yellow beak clacked together most of the time, even when he wasn’t talking or eating, and above that beak were two beady eyes.

On that particular day, Rocky had decided to go on a longer trip.

He had watched an old episode of Friends whilst sitting on the balcony of one of the holiday flats and it gave him the idea to visit New York. It wasn’t too far for a herring gull of Rocky’s calibre – just across the Atlantic, in fact. So he decided to go and see the Statue of Liberty. Rocky liked to travel light; there was nothing to take but himself.

Standing on top of the cliffs made of golden rock, Rocky surveyed the horizon. Then, taking a running jump, he was off.

The first part of the flight went smoothly. He had great thermals² that lifted him high above the ocean, where the warmer winds helped him speed along. The wind blew his feathers back from his face and his huge yellow beak broke into a mad grin as he shot through the air. Rocky looked down at the expanse of water below and chuckled to himself. I love being a bird, he thought.

After a couple of hours or so, he got a bit peckish. He had only had a bit of a discarded prawn sandwich for breakfast and his tummy was beginning to rumble. He looked around to see if there was any land ahead or any sign of a snack. Nothing as far as his beady eye could see.

Rumble, went his tummy again.

Rocky cocked his head to the right, then to the left, then straight ahead. Suddenly, his beady eye caught sight of a shoal of fish over to his left. He changed direction and was soon above them. ‘That will do for a lunch bite,’ said Rocky to himself, out loud.

He followed the shoal, waiting to make his move. They were beautiful silver fish: mackerel. Glinting in the sunlight as they sped along the surface of the water, showing their colours of black and blue, they too were looking for their lunch of tasty sand eels.

Rocky swooped down and grabbed one of the silver fish in his beak. He flew up, the sunlight catching his lunch in a flash of silver. This is a big fish, thought Rocky (he didn’t say this out loud as he would have dropped his lunch!), I need to find somewhere to stop and eat – you can get indigestion eating on the run.

He looked below and saw a rock sticking out of the middle of the huge ocean. That is a stroke of luck, he thought. Rocky swooped down with unusual grace for such a large bird and landed in the middle of the rock. ‘Right… Lunch.’

Rocky dropped the fish onto the rock – his tummy was really rumbling now – and looked up.

What Rocky saw then made him catch his breath and forget all about the fish. (This was very good for the fish, who took the opportunity to escape, and with a couple of flips he was off the rock and back in the water ready to fight another day!)

Suddenly, lunch was the last thing on Rocky’s mind, despite his tummy rumbling again. Rocky stood open-beaked and found himself looking not at the open sea but instead at a montage of the most amazing landscapes. Rocky was standing on the edge of a shiny blue-green lake with a beach of grey granite rocks. The beauty and tranquillity of the colours stretched out and merged into vast grass plains full of vegetation, then in the distance thinned out to rough sandy deserts.

‘What the…’ exclaimed Rocky.

He blinked and turned his head to the right. Rocky took in the view. The blue-green lake gave way to bubbling streams that led into rivers, and these rivers snaked their way through forests that became thicker and grew into jungles.

He cocked his head to the left, and this sight was the most fantastic yet: a sea of icy waters peppered with the pale blue tips of icebergs. A large glacier rose up on the edge of the water and a vast mountain range of snow-capped peaks towered impressively in the distance.

Rocky squeezed his eyes tightly closed and then opened them as wide as he could, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining this. Nope, it was still there. It was as if all the wonderful elements of the world were crammed together in a small space. Rocky stood rigid, fixed to the spot, too scared to move. So, he just stood there gawping. He didn’t know how long he was gawping, but he did catch a few flies in his beak with it being open so long. The flies were actually a very lucky light bite and for a few seconds stopped his tummy from that constant rumbling!

He then became aware of someone, or something, standing next to him. He swivelled his beady eye to the right and standing on the granite beach was a funny-looking bird. Rocky used the word bird loosely as he had never seen a bird like this before. He guessed it was a bird, because one, it had feathers – its wings were short and stumpy, but they were wings, nonetheless; two, it had a magnificent beak, that clacked together like Rocky’s.

Its heavy body had a shimmering outline and very little colour, like an old black and white movie.

The bird stood quietly and surveyed Rocky with his sharp eye.

‘Who are you and what is this place?’ stuttered Rocky.

The other bird stayed quiet at first. It just stood there shimmering.

Feeling nervous, Rocky wasn’t sure what to make of all this; he cocked his head to the right, then to the left, and then to the middle.

‘My name is Rocky Foreshore and I am a herring gull.’ He puffed out his chest with pride, Rocky loved being a herring gull.

‘Who are you?’ Rocky knew this sounded rude, but the weirdness of the situation had made him forget his manners completely!

‘Welcome. My name is Derek and I was a dodo. On our family tree, we were related to pigeons and doves, in fact my favourite great aunt was a pigeon.’

Rocky was silent at first. He wasn’t really that keen on pigeons. They always wanted to be the first at any titbits left on the ground and it was a fight with them for food at lunchtime.

‘Humans call us seagulls sometimes, but on my family tree I am a herring gull!’ Rocky replied, before pausing. ‘Why are you such a funny colour and what do you mean by was a dodo? … Do you mean to tell me that you’re dead!’ he exclaimed.

‘Not just dead – my species