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A bird watching

 

For this little bird, following its nature was no problem. As a young hatchling, it had readily lapped up its mother and father’s regurgitate, complaining punctually when they did not provide, even more so when they were about to, and even in fact just after they had. In fact, only those moments when it was in the throes of swallowing that it didn’t cry. And as such, any enjoyment of these regurgitates was precluded in the panic to get back to asking for more.

 

That was a rather ugly and precarious stage for the nestling chick. Though it did not recognise its ugliness, it did at least always manage to negotiate space to ensure its three varyingly chaotic siblings would not cast it out, and therefore managed to survive. Though again, it did not recognise that death would be the penalty of failure. Things were simply done, and though life was hard, it was also very easy.

 

Sex did not become acknowledged until much later, and even then, just as an oppositional force that attracted one to another, and so when it felt this force, it became a she. But this would be long after growing feathers and slightly less long after learning how to fly, which really did not come as easily as it would’ve liked. It was at these moments while being a fledgling that the full stakes of falling from a tree were truly appreciated. That first flight was a successful roundtrip was a big relief.

 

Eating by itself was another issue altogether. It did not happen as soon as all bodily functions were capable. There was a sort of arrested development on this front that could be put down to a problem of psychology, though all birds of its kind did so. The fledgling, though almost identical in size and form to its parents, with only a few tufts of leftover fluff to differentiate it, still insisted that its parents drop food into its mouth, whilst simply following one of them everywhere. It was an odd sight for anyone who cared to look. A sort of shamelessness. And so it was, an absolute lack of shame.

 

It eventually moved onto pecking its beak onto edible substances, such as berries, which were easier, and worms, which were worth it. And this transition just happened one day. It just switched like something had happened, though nothing much had, except from that moment on, it never asked its parents again. And from then on it never saw them again, or perceivably not, as they tended to cross flight paths every few days, but both sides had ceased the need for further communication, and so that was that.

 

It was at this point she started to notice other birds. Not always for mating potential, though she was often amused by their attempts, but for new ideas too. She tended to fly and sleep not too far from her old nest, but at times she flew further, most often when she caught the drift of a set of birds similar in size and shape to her.  Soon, she found herself in a flock, of which plenty of distant family members were part, though this was unknown to her, as well as plenty of unrelated individuals. Together they flew in groups of dozens, sometimes more; no one counted. She followed the crowd in spinning circles, only keeping up by mimicking the movements of those nearest. Mid-flight she would snap up roving insects, particularly if it was dusk when the insects went out to socialise too. Her clan skid separately and together through the air, occasionally hiding in foliage and pushing each other off branches, all quite voluntarily, habitually, and spiritedly. Every moment was as much like another as it was unlike any other.

 

Then, tired, they would chat in the evenings in the trees, just for the sake of it, and each would eventually head down to find the leafiest spots nearer the ground in the night to shield themselves from the cold. Wherever she slept, it was never quite as warm as she’d felt in the nest, but that memory was fading.

 

By herself she flit from bush to tree and from tree to bush, but her lot preferred bushes for the earlier hours, as a result of their easier height, and so she spent most of her time there as she preferred the company. Some daylights got so warm she needed water, but didn’t know where to look. One parched day she followed her flock to a smooth rock mound from which water rose softly, and there she cleaned her feathers and drank up with equal pleasure. On all hot days, a few would head there at a time, always bringing a few newcomers to the site. But luckily the heat didn’t last too long, as it was even more exhausting than the cold of the dark, at least the ones she had known.

 

It was nearby this perched spring that some birds had more local knowledge, but only if you were of the right size and agility. Here, a tricky balancing act was required in order to obtain the prize. It was a fat cylinder with a green brim, large enough to uncomfortably cage a few birds, but fortunately only housing seeds. Of course, it was a bird feeder, and that was exactly how she treated it. It hung next to a surface that was hard to discern. Shiny like a puddle, but vertical. She noticed the others avoided the surface, and so she did too. However, as she took her turn eating with her feet wrapping tightly to prevent herself rotating on the shiny wire rim, she caught a flicker of movement inside the standing puddle, and flew away. The mover inside the window was very disappointed, as it was her presence, and all of those with her, that it wanted to see. It occurred to the mover that it was its own presence that the birds did not want to see, and, without realising, accepted this as a fact of life, even though it was not true.

 

The next day the bird took herself to a field of grass and intermittent trees for a refreshing break from the bush-to-bush life of the past weeks. There she caught sight of a variety of birds she would not normally see one of, let alone together. They were bustling around a point, creating a centre of activity that she was naturally inclined to approach. There, she uncovered a scene which made her immediately suspicious. A lot of birds flew on and all around a person, some even on top of its head. Others landed on its arms. And all around it, the bigger and more audacious birds had gathered closest, as she understood: it was throwing bits of food around its feet that the birds would scoop up competitively. They snapped and fluttered their wings when others encroached their space, which was constantly. The morsels tended to land far too close to the person and the biggest birds, posing too much of a threat to her cautious nature. But, tempted just like any other, she suppressed any flightiness and was duly rewarded with some stray particles that ricocheted her way.

 

The soft crumbs filled her up easily. A little human child was also intrigued by the scene, and bounded into the centre. Upon doing so, many of the birds flapped away but then quickly returned, their inhibitions tempered by an insatiable hunger they had not known since chicks; a reminder of the only time when they had been actively fed. But the child was quickly grasped at and yanked away. A larger human, higher and narrower than the bird feeder, had retrieved the child from the mess of birds and, from just beyond the radius started shouting at the young human, enough to hold the birds’ collective attention for a moment.

 

The noise was done, and the pair had scuttled off.  The birds turned back to continue eating, but soon the food ran out and they flew away. Our littler bird flew back too, in search of her usual community for the night. In no time, she located them, busy chirping in a bush that was reliably their spot over the last few days. Darkness set, and she huddled into the centre of the bush, knowing it would be colder as the skies were clear. Life would be harder in the next few months, but right now it was very easy.

© 2024 by Jacqueline Bond

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