Sticks and Stories - 6. Fly!

“Go, go!”

The sound of thundering flaps filled the rainy air. Worry became the only emotion in his body. “Fuck, what's going on? Where are we going?”

He and his brethren took to the gloomy sky suddenly, unsure which of them were leading the charge south. Varying answers came as the response.

“Don't know!”

“Who cares, shut up.”

“Hurry!”

Irritated and annoyed that he lost the comfortable perch, he yelled, “Seriously, what's the deal?”

“We're going over here,” one from the front yelled. Passing over several of several similar structures, the flock landed in a nearby tree, not far from where they sat before. “This… this is nice.”

Gawking, he glanced at the tree they came from. “Are you actually joking? What was wrong with that one?”

The bird’s head shook feverishly for a moment before dropping down one branch. “See? Down there.” They looked at one of the odd two-legged animals. It leaned against one of their odd structures they called home. “It came out, but we were fine. It just put its leg down.”

The alleged leader made little sense to him. “It isn’t prowling, and it can’t fly. Why are you so concerned?”

“Fool! They get in their weird, metal things to go places. I’ve seen it; they can fly. What is stopping them from coming for us?”

“This is stupid, I’m getting a drink.” He flew down to the lake, still within the vicinity of the odd creature. Still wary, he briefly pecked at the water.

The other dived and landed, fluttering his wings with panic. “You idiot! Now they can run at you.”

Sipping again, he chirped. “I have been closer. They just watch. Their little ones will come, but they can’t reach us fast enough. You should be grateful for their existence. Their lines are fine for sitting.”

“Bah! What is there to see when on one? They destroy our trees and build more of their structures.”

“They leave enough for us to nest. In my time, I’ve yet to see one attack a nest. It’s almost as if they revere them. They even throw crumbs of their sponge food. You know, the stuff that tastes of wheat.” Dipping his head down, he flung water on his back and shook. After a quick bath, he flapped to dry himself. He looked back to see the flock escaping from the imaginary danger. “You all worry too much. They're simple creatures. Weird, but simple.”

***

As I lit my cigarette, I spotted the numerous black birds in the trees in front of my apartment. Out of all the units I could have moved into, I was grateful to have the only median of trees in the complex. Albeit, when autumn comes, the dead leaves litter the lot. Even through rain, wind, and winter, they remained under our vehicles. I puffed and propped myself up against the door frame using my sandaled foot. Shivering, I regret not putting socks and sweatpants on.

They scattered. “Wow,” I thought, “even the slightest movement scares them to all high-hell.”

Memories of my vacation to South Bend, Indiana came to mind. Wandering Notre Dame’s campus, the birds and squirrels were less wary than the ones here. They often hopped fairly closeby on the sidewalks, only to fly away when they were within a few feet of me. I snorted. “Hell, I even fed a few squirrels some cashews.”

I watched as they landed in the treeline along the street I lived on. “Really? What kind of sense did that make?” Inhaling, I blew smoke from my nostrils. What puzzled me was a bird’s approach to the dumpster for my section of the complex. I smiled as it landed in the puddle. It seemed happy to hop around until another followed along. The pair squawked briefly until the first began to bathe.

Keeping still, I studied their movements until they flew away a minute later. I smirked as I snuffed my cigarette in the half-full glass jar on the stoop, then went inside to finish writing. ”Stubborn Cow-man. Let’s hope he stops being a pain in my ass.”