IT glided in the sky — the falcon, its long-spanned wings in smooth rhythm with the wind, sharp eyes on the forest below. This powerful bird seemed not to be hunting prey, but searching for something.

In the day it flew over the mountains, valleys and rivers, resting sometimes at a high vantage point until dusk. Then as night settled in, it fluttered its strong wings and flew down to the forest into the thick foliage. It tucked its head close to its chest to sleep and the hours wore on, then under the soft velvet of the night, in the embrace of the forest, an astounding scene unfolded.

The feathers of the falcon slowly vanished and an incredibly beautiful native girl stood there.
She walked slowly to a small stream and sat there for a long time, crying quietly.
“How long do I have to live with this curse?” she cried.

No one could answer because no humans were there, just the trees and the animals.
She sighed deeply, “I need to find someone to help me so I can return home.”
She had flown from a far-off land searching for something she had been told could be found in this South American land, to break the curse that entrapped her in bird form in the day; and in the dark of the night she was transformed into the girl she was.
Her sharp eyes had been watching the native hunters and farmers far below, not sure who she could reveal herself to and tell her story to help her. In the morning, as the sun rose, she spread her wings and flew up in the sky, hoping today something promising could happen. Hopes were all she had been living with since that fateful day two years ago, to now.

From her vantage point in the sky, she saw the young native hunter sitting alone on the riverbank, watching the sunset on the horizon and with a speed her breed is known for, she descended. The hunter was resting his weary body by the riverside when the reddish-orange hue of the sunset seemed to come alive as a large blue-grey bird streaked across, like the sudden swish of an artist’s brush.

The hunter’s hands in a swift, smooth motion armed his bow and watched as the bird alighted on a rock on the opposite bank. The bird stayed still, looking at him curiously, and he lowered his hands, recognising the Peregrine falcon, the female, famed for its hunting skills.

The hunter looked at it for a while then sheathed his arrow and left the riverside for his village. That night he was restless in his sleep for in his mind, he felt there was something strange about the bird. He awoke just before the sun rose and went back to the riverside, but the bird was gone. He saw it later in the day in the sky, and at dusk once again, it came to the riverside whilst he sat there. He felt as though it wanted to tell him something, but he couldn’t be sure and he wondered,
“Is this bird a spirit form of something?”

On the fourth day at dusk, the bird flew down from the sky with such speed. It was as though it had lost control of its strong wings. It didn’t take the hunter long to realise that it was injured and he moved swiftly as the falcon hit the water, but he couldn’t go close for with an arrow protruding from one wing, its fluttering wings and sharp claws would rip him badly. He managed quickly to cut a long branch from a nearby tree and helped the bird out of the water.
He stood looking at it, not daring to go closer, just making sure it was okay. And sitting by a tree, as dark settled in, he closed his eyes, not wanting to leave the injured bird alone. As the night became darker, a sound caused him to open his eyes and he saw something so incredible, it left him stunned. The bird’s feathers slowly vanished and lying on the river bank with an arrow in her shoulder, was the most beautiful woman the native hunter had ever seen.
She looked at him and cried softly. “Please help me.”
He knelt by her and gingerly extracted the arrow from the shoulder. She tried not to scream, just grimacing in pain and said a little breathlessly,, “Thank you for saving my life.”
He looked at her for a long moment then asked, “Who are you and what happened to you?”She took a deep breath, sitting on the forest floor and told him her story.
She was the daughter of a noble family, recognised as a tribal princess. One day, a son from another noble family saw her and wanted to marry her, but she refused because he was cruel to his own people, and was involved with dark, evil forces. He became so enraged at her refusal that he had a curse put on her.
“Since that day,” she said, tears in her eyes. “This has been my life, a bird in the day and human in the night.”
“Is there a way to break this curse?” he asked.
“It has been said that on top of a high mountain in his land, there grows a small flower, its nectar so powerful, it can cast away any evil.”
“Is that why you’ve flown so far?”
She nodded and asked him, a plea in her voice, “Can you help me?”
He had felt her pain and desperation as he listened to her story and he said, “I will do whatever it takes to help you.”
He left to get a small team from his village and three days and two nights later, as she anxiously awaited his return, she heard him calling for her.
She flew down from a tall tree where she had been resting and alighted on his arm.
He had found the flower to break the curse.
One week later, after the village chief, through the Indigenous Peoples Ministry, had informed her father where she was, she waited in his village for an envoy sent to take her home.
She touched his arm and reaching up, kissed him lightly. “I will remember you always as someone special.”
“And forever in my heart, you will live,” he said in his mind, “My falcon princess.”