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The Bird

“Chirp!” Of course, the little bird chirped, the only little bird on the tallest fingerling branches of the only tree around. It had hundreds of sunflower-shaped petals blossoming from them all, collapsing in the wake of approaching nightfall. The sun was a half hour from setting, and the bird was chirping continuously.

“My love, my love, my love, where are you, my love bird.” Nothing.

“My love, where are you, my love bird, why?” A tiny female bird flies within his sights, but no longer.

“Why-have-you-let-me-go-for-so-so-so-so-so-so-so-so-long?” Shaking the sky around him, he lets out a strong repetitive chirp unlike his usual singing, a cat call for all the tiny birds to know he is there. It pulsated through the wind and through the residential noise of Somerville for half a mile, enveloping everything around (in what could be illustrated as a loud, brown, orange, and yellow wave of color across an otherwise empty sky).

The sun was setting, and still no tiny bird came to him.

“My love, my love, my love bird, where are you,” and silence for a moment as the faint sound of a tiny female bird catches his ear again.

“My love?” He sang only once, a call of desperation, ‘are you there,’ expecting a quick reply. Regretfully, there was no reply.

On the little bird went, “My love, my love, my love, my love, where are you, my love…” all the while oblivious to a tiny bird, jumping quietly up the tree underneath him. She heard his call, and sang back  her song to him before swooping down to come closer. It was only in fun she hid herself from view so she could see what he does.

“My love, where are you, my love, my love, why?”

“Play more for me.” And her voice caught his and his heart skips, a quick reply so close he could feel it. He was filled with a new energy. And on he goes, still alone on the tallest fingerling branches, singing his song for the world to hear. Several feet below, the tiny bird watches his stanza, his empty waiting and choral climax that sends ripples through a noisy sky. She watches and smiles, and waits for the sun to go down before flying to meet her committed companion.

An observation about the ferocity of birds needs to be made.

Here they are, in the open square, fighting over morsels of food left on the ground by what looks like a spilled milkshake cup. The two birds (smaller than pigeons) hopped around the substance, chirping and taunting the other as they fight an alpha-dominant fight for survival.

They scare each other, both reacting quickly to each other’s plight. One is defeated, and makes a run for it by flying into the street, only to maneuver at the last second before getting hit by a car. He swoops around and returns to the fight, only to make the other bird fly too, and around they go, eventually leaving the so-called food on the ground, in search of more interesting things to fight about.

9.12.2008