Buying Trouble
A Bird's Eye View - by Pumpkin
I am blessed. Our Mother has given me flight and sight and many years of life. So am I blessed.
I have seen Her blessings upon others and have never wished them for myself. For each gift there is a price. With my wings comes the duty to migrate each season. For several months I may dance with the wind, but then I must fight it to take the journey She asks of me. It is not such a terrible price to pay.
But of some our Mother demands far more.
I remember a boy who used to play by my nesting tree. As boys go, this one was lovely. He was filled with joy in the land – he would touch my tree with reverence and love and when he laughed, it was like the sound of a bird singing a love song to its mate.
He would often sit at the bottom of my nesting tree and talk silently to it, and to our Mother. When he first began to do this I would yell at him and swoop over his head to protect my chicks, but our Mother showed me that he would not harm us. My nesting tree welcomed him as though he were Hers and I grew to do the same.
One day, men like large beasts came and cut down my nesting tree. My own cries were drowned out by the shrieks of the tree as it was killed. The boy made noise too. He yelled and kicked and bit and it took two of them to hold him. They cut down my tree and threw the boy to the ground and they laughed and it was not the sound of a bird at all, it was the sound of beasts braying.
The boy's cries continued for some time as the men shouted and laughed and held him down. I circled above them, calling down our Mother's wrath upon them, but they were not impressed. Finally they tied the boy's hands behind his back and led him away.
My nest was gone, the migration near, and so I followed them as it seemed they were taking the same route as I. At night the boy's cries were like those of the tree as they cut it down. In the day they pulled him along with ropes as though he were a dog.
I did not yet understand that our Mother took a price for Her gifts and I believed that She had abandoned this beautiful, laughing boy. When the man-beasts stopped their migration, the boy was no longer beautiful or laughing. I stayed outside his cage that night and sang to him as he made small sounds like a dove caught by a hunter's arrow. It was a sad song, a song that lamented the loss of my chicks, the tree and this boy. The next morning I continued my journey, leaving the broken boy behind me. I did not expect to see him again.
I had completed my migration south and begun again my journey to the land where I would find a mate to give me chicks. It was while I was resting in a place of greenery among the rock and people of the midway place that I saw the boy once more. Not yet the laughing boy who touched my tree with such reverence and love, he was nonetheless closer to that than to the creature I had last sung to in his cage.
With him was a large man with a mane of hair like a great cat. He looked upon the boy in much the same way the boy had looked upon my nesting tree. As I sat on the highest branches of the tallest tree in this green place, I watched the boy rush from plant to plant, pointing to them. The man would speak, his voice a low rumble like the sound of the river against the rocks. Whatever it was he said made the boy's face light up with delight.
The boy wound plants in his hair and looked up at his mate, for surely that was who the man was. The kiss I saw was sweet and filled the garden with light and warmth. I sang for them, a song to match the beauty of the garden and the love on their faces.
When the man left the boy turned to the tree in the corner upon which I sat. He came and touched her bark with soft fingers. Different, but the same he was – changed though his soul belonged still to our Mother. He called upon Her then, speaking to Her out loud and silently in his heart and mind. Out Mother rained her blessing upon us – all the creatures in this place, cleansing us every one with drops of water from the sky.
Finally I knew – I understood that the boy had not been abandoned at all – this had been the price She had demanded for the happiness he was to have. For his mate for life. Imagine that, my chicks – no need to search each season for someone big and strong, no need to look after your next and chicks on your own.
I stayed only the night to rest my wings, but when the sun again came into the sky, I sat on the tree and sang my best song for the boy and his mate.
Every migration I stop, resting in this place I know is safe. The tree welcomes me and tells me of the joys our Mother has bestowed upon this boy since last I have been by.
This last was my final migration. My wings grow weary of the flight and our Mother calls me at last to her bosom. And so, my chicks, I leave you with only these words; be careful what gifts you ask our great Mother to bestow upon you, for each one has its price.
THE END
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