Page 34 of Under the Arabian Sky

When he grew nearer, he crouched, then inched closer and closer on his haunches until he was within reach of the bird.

The falcon eyed him with caution, yet there was something in the blinking eyes of the injured bird that made me believe she genuinely wanted his help.

Slowly Tariq lifted the ghutra, then gently laid it over the bird’s head, covering her eyes.

The bird gave a timid chirp then seemed to calm herself completely.

I watched as Tariq tenderly handled the creature, feeling her wings and body until he found something on her leg. He spent several minutes inspecting it, then quietly he returned to us, leaving the falcon to sit quietly in the corner with the ghutra over her head.

“I’m going to administer fifty milligrams of midazolam intranasally, which should cause the least amount of stress for the bird.”

Mahir and I both looked at each other like we had no idea what Tariq was saying.

Tariq saw our clueless expressions and added, “Once she’s down I’ll put her in the cage. It’s probably best if the two of you wait outside.”

“Are you sure you don’t need our help?” I asked, wanting to offer my support but doubtful I would be of any assistance at all.

“I’ve done this before… you haven’t. Believe me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of a falcon’s talons. I’d be treating two patients instead of one.”

“Roger that.” I didn’t need to be told twice to clear out of the way of a distressed and injured bird of prey.

Quickly Mahir and I left the stable.

We went outside and the sun was so blinding I had to shield my eyes with my hands.

With a tug on the sleeve of my kandura, Mahir said something in Arabic to me. I took my hands away from my eyes to see him making a drinking gesture. In English, he offered, “Coffee?”

* * *

When Tariq was finished sedating the falcon, he found Mahir and I in the goat herder’s small and humble living room. He had offered me Arabic coffee and camel’s milk, and I had consumed them both with a thirst that surprised even me.

“I’ve put her in the cage,” Tariq told us. “She’s as comfortable as can be for the time being. We’ll get her back to the clinic where I can stitch up the wound. We should leave now so that she doesn’t wake up before we get back.”

I thanked Mahir for the drinks and Mahir thanked Tariq once again for coming to the falcon’s rescue. “Shukrun, Tariq…Shukrun jaziilan!”

We left with the unconscious bird in its cage and a few more of Mahir’s towels and sheets that Tariq wrapped around the falcon to buffer her from the rock and sway of the journey home.

By the time we got back to Tariq’s place the day was fading. The sun had set over the dunes, the temperature had dropped and as we approached the craggy-hilled outskirts of the city, the streetlights illuminated Muscat like a secret night garden adorned with fairy lights.

When we arrived back at the house, Tariq put the camels to bed in their stable, then made the falcon comfortable in one of the large cages in the clinic’s infirmary.

We had missed dinner, so Zahra fixed us a late supper ofkhubz ragagand cold meat.

Tariq’s father was again nowhere to be found. Zahra told us he had retired early to bed.

“The pair of you look tired as well,” Tariq’s mother said. “How is your patient?”

“Are you talking about Arthur or the falcon we rescued today?” Tariq asked.

“Both.”

“I’m feeling fine,” I answered for myself, instinctively touching my fingers to the stitches on my temples. “I’m just exhausted, really. It was a long day in the desert.”

“And the bird?” Zahra asked Tariq.

“I’ll clean and stitch her wound after supper. She’ll wake up sore, but she’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to take care of her tonight?” I asked. “You’re not too tired?”

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