Eric Maas’s Reviews > The Peregrine > Status Update
Eric Maas
is on page 130 of 256
December 27th
Peregrine vs. Sparrowhawk (which we just learned to know as an equally skilled and ruthless hunter. Quite the thriller…
— 14 hours, 3 min ago
Peregrine vs. Sparrowhawk (which we just learned to know as an equally skilled and ruthless hunter. Quite the thriller…
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Eric’s Previous Updates
Eric Maas
is on page 128 of 256
December 24th
Christmas Eve brings a significant literary turn. The chapter shift to a dark tone, featuring - in beautiful language - man, us, as a horror figure looming over all other creatures of nature, who recognize him as such. And then, later, after sundown, there’s the silence over the spoils on the battlefield. Prey and predators…
— 14 hours, 21 min ago
Christmas Eve brings a significant literary turn. The chapter shift to a dark tone, featuring - in beautiful language - man, us, as a horror figure looming over all other creatures of nature, who recognize him as such. And then, later, after sundown, there’s the silence over the spoils on the battlefield. Prey and predators…
Eric Maas
is on page 126 of 256
A rabbit, inflated and foul with myxomatosis, just a twitching pulse beating in a bladder of bones and fur, will feel the vibration of your footstep and will look for you with bulging, sightless eyes. Then it will drag itself away into a bush, trembling with fear.
We are the killers. We stink of death. We carry it with us. It sticks to us like frost. We cannot tear it away.
— 15 hours, 54 min ago
We are the killers. We stink of death. We carry it with us. It sticks to us like frost. We cannot tear it away.
Eric Maas
is on page 126 of 256
[A heron, its wings stuck to the ground by frost]
Its eyes were open and living, the rest of it was dead. All was dead but the fear of man. AsI approached I could see its whole body crashing into flight. But it could not fly. I gave it peace, and saw the agonized sunlight of its eyes slowly heal with cloud.
No pain, no death, is more terrible to a wild creature than its fear of man. (p. 126)
— 16 hours, 10 min ago
Its eyes were open and living, the rest of it was dead. All was dead but the fear of man. AsI approached I could see its whole body crashing into flight. But it could not fly. I gave it peace, and saw the agonized sunlight of its eyes slowly heal with cloud.
No pain, no death, is more terrible to a wild creature than its fear of man. (p. 126)
Eric Maas
is on page 125 of 256
December 23rd
Four yards between Baker and the peregrine feeding at dusk. Amazed that he dares to risk alarming the bird. Surely he can because he knows he will see more of them after. Regardless, a bond is made
— 16 hours, 19 min ago
Four yards between Baker and the peregrine feeding at dusk. Amazed that he dares to risk alarming the bird. Surely he can because he knows he will see more of them after. Regardless, a bond is made
Eric Maas
is on page 123 of 256
December 22nd
They seemed bored, sterile; they had no meaning […] They had no song. Their calls were harsh and ugly. But their soaring was like an endless silent singing. What else had they to do? (p. 123)
A shift in tone. Baker compares with older days and establishes things are looking bad for the peregrine: the eggless nest, foul poison burning within them like a borrowing fuse…
— Oct 19, 2026 05:12PM
They seemed bored, sterile; they had no meaning […] They had no song. Their calls were harsh and ugly. But their soaring was like an endless silent singing. What else had they to do? (p. 123)
A shift in tone. Baker compares with older days and establishes things are looking bad for the peregrine: the eggless nest, foul poison burning within them like a borrowing fuse…
Eric Maas
is on page 119 of 256
Now their colour is like the mauve rim of a clear sky where the sun has just gone down. (p. 118)
The hawk puts out his feathers, looking cuddly and harmless. Only the armour-plated legs and the sickle toes do not relax, will never relax in life. (p. 119)
— Oct 18, 2026 06:07AM
The hawk puts out his feathers, looking cuddly and harmless. Only the armour-plated legs and the sickle toes do not relax, will never relax in life. (p. 119)
Eric Maas
is on page 117 of 256
December 18th
what was left smelt fresh and sweet, like a mess of raw beef and pineapple. It was an appetizing smell, not the least bit rank or fishy. I could have eaten it myself if I had been hungry. (p. 117)
— Oct 18, 2026 05:32AM
what was left smelt fresh and sweet, like a mess of raw beef and pineapple. It was an appetizing smell, not the least bit rank or fishy. I could have eaten it myself if I had been hungry. (p. 117)
Eric Maas
is on page 114 of 256
(December 15th)
He fell so fast, he died so furiously from the sky to the dark wood below, that his black shape dimmed to get it, hidden in a shining cloud of speed. He drew the sky about him as he fell. It was final. It was death. There was nothing more. There could be nothing more. (p. 114)
— Oct 18, 2026 04:46AM
He fell so fast, he died so furiously from the sky to the dark wood below, that his black shape dimmed to get it, hidden in a shining cloud of speed. He drew the sky about him as he fell. It was final. It was death. There was nothing more. There could be nothing more. (p. 114)