Bruny Youth Stories Prize

I rise early, so does the light. It illuminates my three beautiful eggs with its warm, welcoming glow. It is, perhaps, the only thing in this world I will proudly show my chicks. Because they will hatch this year……………. they will. 
I scrape stray sand out of the nest and watch the shoreline for gulls. They’re always there, watching, I have no intention of leaving my nest. The tide is rapidly fluctuating, I shuffle my feathers and shade my delicate, mottled eggs. 
The early morning dog walkers arrive, striding swiftly and carelessly through my home followed by their canines patrolling the beach. They’re so often blind to anything but the view of the beach and the rectangular black blocks always clutched in their hands. Their small blinking blocks. A nose dares close to my nest. I twitter and shriek, its maw snaps around my head and I bob. Its walker swiftly approaches, coming straight for my nest. I risk everything and leap out into the open, spreading my wings and dragging them along the sand. 
‘Over here!’ I shriek over and over until the canine leaves my nest and follows my cries. I circle around and the walker whistles and they leave, oblivious as they move on. 
I am quick to return to my nest. Tripping over my crushed bowl of sand imprinted with the walker's boot. Two eggs lay untouched, the other shattered in the print. I drag kelp, building back the wall I’d lost. I twitter and settle on my two remaining eggs, the wind has picked up and sand blows over my small huddled form. So……. blind. 
 

I can hear the waves now, they’re too close. I shake sand off my copper cap and strain my neck. There is movement beneath the swash and I stand, hurrying to the shore, digging my beak into the sand. An oddly high wave hits me but I remain still until it ebbs. I drag a mollusk up the beach and devour it, returning to my flat nest. 
The wave left my nest with flattened walls and I see an egg is missing. I scurry back to the water and dart frantically through the shallows, I could still save it..…… I could. But there is no egg. 
I plant myself on my remaining egg and whistle to it. The waves grow larger and the sky darkens. Rain pours down on me and my egg, but, even as it fills my nest I shuffle down and shield it from the sky. Cold and shaking we wait, me and my egg. 
Because you will hatch………………………. you will…………………… you must. 
 

A small walker, unlike the others, dances in the rain. As she collects shells, she finds my discarded mollusk. She comes to level with it and looks straight ahead. That's when she sees us. ‘Birdy’ she smiles. I tense as she gets closer. Drawing a shape around us with her finger, she surrounds us with shells. Then she is gone. I feel you between my spindly legs and hold you tight until morning.
The shell walker returns, bringing with her a small sign for our nest and fixes it in the ground, then she's gone again. I don’t know why, but now the walkers notice us and the ocean gives us time. The storm has passed. You chirp and trip on my feet. I whistle to you and it's you and me and our circle of shells. Because you did hatch……………… you did. 
We rise early, so does the light. 

It illuminates you and our shell laced nest, with its warm welcoming glow. It is, perhaps, not the only thing I will proudly show you in this world. 
 

Winners of the Bruny Youth Story Prize will be announced at The Bruny Island Bird Festival on Sunday, the 22nd of March at 12 pm in the Adventure Bay hall. This prize is proudly brought to you by The Bruny Kids and Nature Project, led by Claire Boost and the Tasmanian Community Fund.