Sean the park custodian noted someone had driven to the top of the knoll in a 4×4 pickup truck. He walked up to join the young man standing there with binoculars. “Oy!” called Sean. “Enjoyin’ the view?”
“Sort of,” said the fellow. His flannel shirt and battered jeans matched the outdoorsy appearance of his mud-streaked truck. “I’m just looking for my bird.”
“Your bird, Mr….?”
“MacCallum. Evan MacCallum.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m a falconer. New at the game, I’m afraid. I seem to have lost my bird.”
“A falconer!” grinned Sean. “I’ve done a bit of that meself. Don’t you have a telemetry transmitter to track…uh…”
Evan blushed. “Her name is Tiny. No, I don’t. Like I said I’m new at this.”
Sean placed his hands on hips. Something wasn’t right about this lad. “Where’s your falconer’s glove?”
“I don’t have one. I’ve got that.” He pointed to a t-shaped wooden structure mounted to the pickup bed. It was covered in leather. A raw lamb’s leg dripped from a mount.
Sean scowled. “That’s not a glove! It’s a perch, and it’s far too large. Further, you should cut that meat into chunks. Your bird might choke! Evan, you’re poorly-equipped for the fine art of falconry! You should…
A massive shadow fell across the two men. A strong breeze blew up from the beats of twenty-eight foot, leathery wings. Tiny’s three-hundred pound dragon body struck the perch with substantial force, causing the entire truck to bounce.
“There she is!” exclaimed Evan. “Where have you been, girl?”
Tiny ripped the lamb leg free with foot-long claws. She gulped the entire gobbet down in a single go, and glared balefully at Sean.
“Right,” squeaked Sean as a stain spread across his slacks. “Seems you’re well-equipped after all!”
Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction weekly writing challenge. Look here to see what stories other folks wrote: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2015/10/11/sunday-photo-fiction-october-11th-2015/