Flight of the Budgies
---------------------
By Steven Hanov (hanovs@interlynx.net)
WARNING: This story is not finished. Things in the beginning could
change by the time I get to the end.
"Ranger, the time has come," said the green budgie. A new day was just
beginning, and the first, golden rays of sunlight poured through the
window into the basement aviary.
Ranger, a blue budgie, stirred from his sleep. He reluctantly took his
head out from under his wing and blinked in the light. "Huh? What are
you chirping about at this hour of the morning?" he asked.
"You fool," the green budgie admonished. He jumped to a higher perch
and fluffed out his feathers. They were a deep, emerald colour, and
their ragged appearance betrayed his years. He continued, "Have you
forgotten the mission? The reason we're here?"
Ranger fluffed out his own, lush feathers and ran his beak through the
soft down on his breast before answering. "It has been many years...
many broods have passed before our eyes since we arrived on earth,
Tweety."
Tweety cocked his head at his friend in amazement. "Do you not
remember the Great Drought? Why we had to send scouts out to find a
suitable world?"
"Ah, yes," said the other bird, "It slowly comes back. My old
birdbrain is still as sharp as it used to be."
"I have received communications from the mother ship. It has taken
over 150 years of investigation, but the Great Bird has deemed Earth
to be our new home world. We must gather together our forces and
invade today."
Ranger stepped back and forth along his perch nervously. "That is a
tall order," he said. He stopped suddenly and looked through the
screen at the brightly coloured Macaw across the room. "What about
him?" he whispered, gesturing towards the large bird.
"The parrot? Ha!" Tweety sniffed. "The earth birds don't know
anything. They repeat words without knowing their true meaning. But
we'll spare them. Perhaps they'll make good slave labourers."
Ranger smiled and nodded. It was indeed time. Soon, the budgies would
possess the earth and all of its water resources. But there was much
to be done first. "I will gather the others," he chirped.
"Yes, that is good. I will eliminate the cage bars," said Tweety.
While Ranger was waking the rest of the flock, Tweety moved up to the
side of the aviary and clung to the thick, metal screen. For a moment,
he carefully examined the screen to find its weakest points. Then, he
clamped his beak around the wire and pulled.
With a resounding twang, the wire snapped. Exhilarated, he called out
behind him, "It is refreshing to be able to use my full strength
again! We don't care if the humans notice today!" The super-bird
strength that was inherent in all budgerigars made short work of the
wire screen that imprisoned the birds.
Tweety perched on a bar high above the flock. The other birds were
assembled below him, chattering about what was going on. It seemed
like a good time for some inspirational words. After all, tomorrow the
budgies would rule the world. Fanning out his wings, we took a deep
breath and started, "A new day is dawning for all budgies. We will eat
the millet seeds of freedom, drink from the water dish of life, and
open the doors that were once closed to us. We'll--"
"BUCAAAAAAAAAW!" The large parrot in the cage across the room opened
its rough beak and gave a scratchy shout.
Annoyed by the interruption, Tweety began again. "We will sleep
in cages no more! For today, the outside world is ours for the taking.
All we need to do is--"
Suddenly, the door to the white-walled room opened, scattering
the flock. The Owner walked into the room with some bird seed and
fresh fruit.
There was no time to spare. "ATTACK!" shouted Ranger. The budgies
all jumped into the air, squawking ferociously. The Owner dropped a
head of lettuce and gasped in surprise as dozens of budgies flew into
him. His glasses shattered on the ground, and he fell to the floor,
trying to shield his eyes with an arm.
Ranger was tugging on an ear when he heard Tweety chirp, "The
door's open! Let's get out of here!" The budgies flew out the door
into the great, wide unknown world of the hallway.
It was only a matter of time before they got outside. Ranger
found a open window and chewed through the screen.
The real problem was figuring out what to do next. Those pesky
humans were still wandering the streets, dumping garbage and polluting
the atmosphere. Ranger was looking forward to getting rid of them. The
budgies could certainly do a better job of running a planet than any
human.
The budgies, numbering less than two dozen, circled the house,
stretching their wings. Ranger hadn't flown this far in years! It was
like discovering a new perch, only better. The trees, houses, and
people were the size of bird toys on the ground. And the freedom!
Ranger dove down, farther and farther, till he could almost touch the
ground, and then swooped up. A gust of wind caught him, and he
discovered that he didn't even have to flap -- all he had to do was
let the breeze take him.
"Isn't it wonderful," called out Queeny, his mate. Her pristine
coat of yellow glistened in the sunlight as she soared ahead of him.
He flapped a little until they were flying side-by-side over the
town. "Yes, my dear. Freedom is sweet," he chirped.
"Over there!" Tweety called, and swerved to a patch of green
grass and trees. It was an oasis of beauty in the maze of pavement --
a park. The other budgies followed Tweety's lead and the whole flock
came to rest on a willow tree.
Ranger landed on a tree branch next to Queeny. Just a few feet
below, a couple of young sparrows gaped at the invaders in surprise.
Ranger stared back. It must be quite dreary, he thought, to be covered
in that depressing brown colour. After a few seconds of indecision,
the sparrows flapped off to find a tree with less unusual inhabitants.
"We're the first flock here, I guess," said Ranger.
Tweety hopped over to a branch just opposite them. "The others
will be around," he chirped.
Queeny turned and faced Ranger. "I'm starting to get hungry," she
said.
"Me too," he agreed. "What are we going to do for food? I don't
see any fields with ripening honey treats." he told Tweety.
Tweety hesitated, as if he hadn't considered this. But that was
impossible; Tweety always thinks of everything.
But then the chattering of some young budgies, and the smell of
food wafted up to them from below. Just few metres away, an old woman
sat on a bench. She was throwing grain on the ground, as if she didn't
want it any more. Ranger couldn't let all that food go to waste! The
trio dived from the tree and stood on the pavement with the other
budgies.
However, some fat, white birds with strange-looking beaks that
stuck out were already gorging themselves on the feast. Tweety, always
the leader, didn't hesitate before squawking, "CHARGE!"
A unified force, the budgies went towards the creatures, who
flapped their wings and hovered a few feet in the air. But the budgies
were relentless; the surprised pigeons had to back off and watch as
the multicoloured intruders gorged themselves on the free meal.
Ranger didn't recognise the grain, but it sure was good! The woman
on the bench didn't seem to notice the battle that had gone on in
front of her. She just whistled at them and kept throwing the food
away.
Suddenly, an almost deafening chorus of chirps and squeaks came
down from above. The other flocks were arriving. Hundreds of
multicoloured budgies were soaring over the park, and most of them
came down to join the feast. Soon, the ground was covered in budgies.
Apparently, this was a little too much for the woman. She slowly
raised her ancient self off the bench and carefully started to pick
her way through the green, yellow, and blue carpet.
For some reason, Tweety didn't like this, and flew to her left
shoulder. Ranger wondered why; shed left the whole bag of food behind.
He flew up to her other side and listened in on what Tweety had to
say.
"Where is your leader?" Tweety chirped threateningly into the
woman's ear.
"HA!" said the woman, "The doctors said there's nothing wrong
with me, and now I'm hearing voices. I always knew they were lying."
Tweety repeated his question.
The woman giggled. "You'll have to speak louder, dear. My
hearings not what it used to be."
The green budgie squawked at the top of his lungs. "WHERE - IS -
YOUR - LEADER?"
This time, she turned around and was surprised to see him perched
on her pink wool sweater. "You know," she said, "you look just like
little Matlock. He used to talk pretty well too, before he fell in the
toilet. Poor Matlock." She nodded her head at the memory. "I'd take
you home with me, but I guess you've got other plans. The leader, eh?
Well, I get my pension checks from the Prime Minister in the
Parliament Buildings."
"AND WHICH BUILDINGS WOULD THOSE BE?" shouted Tweety.
"Why, the one in Ottawa, of course. They send the money every
month, and then take it all away in April. They sure don't help me
much." She laughed, "Did you think I meant the buildings down the
street? How silly."
"WHERE IS THIS PRIME MINISTER?"
The woman stopped her slow hobble and looked around. "Why, I
reckon it's north somewheres. About that way," she said, pointing in a
random direction.
"THANK-YOU, MADAM." said Tweety, and flew back towards the flock.
Ranger followed, leaving the woman to make her way slowly down
the street. Tweety perched on what remained of the empty bag of grain
and was already calling an assembly. Slowly the deafening chatter died
down.
"As your leader, I have discovered that the humans are ruled by a
god called the Prime Minister."
This caused quite a stir. Tweety was about to continue when
someone shouted, "Hey, who made you the leader?"
Tweety was a little taken aback by this. "Why, the Great Bird
appointed me, of course," he said. "Who dares challenge me?"
The challenger flew up out of the crowd, and perched on the bench
beside Tweety, and was quickly followed by six other birds. The
challenger was nearly pure white, except for a patch of blue on his
breast. His followers, numbering a dozen, were all haphazardly
coloured young birds, barely through the first moult. "I dare
challenge you," he chirped.
From his vantage point further up the bench, Ranger searched the
crowd for his mate. He found Queeny, and looked at her questioningly.
She shook her head, just as confused. This could mean trouble.
Tweety was very surprised at this recent turn of events. "And
just who are you," he asked incredulously.
"I am Caesar," said the white budgie. "And this is my group. I
can chirp a C#," he said proudly. A disturbingly large segment of the
crowed chattered in amazement at the newcomer.
"Well, you can't be leader. I am," stated Tweety.
Caesar walked calmly up to him and put his beak right in front of
Tweety's. "I say I can," he chirped menacingly.
This looked like a lot of trouble. Ranger decided to take action.
He flapped his wings and coughed a few times to get attention. "I
don't mean to interrupt," he started, Abut I think this should be
solved democratically." He looked to Tweety and saw a silent nod.
"With a vote."
Caesar spoke first, "That's fine with me."
Tweety spoke into his leg-band communicator and waited for a
reply. After a minute, a lifted his head and said quietly, "The Great
Bird has deemed that acceptable."
Ranger took a deep breath. He would have to handle the situation
carefully. He shouted, "All those in favour of Caesar to be our
leader, flap your wings." There was a stirring in the crowd. Some
flapped their wings, raising themselves above the rest. Ranger took
another breath. "All those in favour of Tweety, flap your wings."
The crowd looked from budgie to budgie. Ranger could almost
follow their thoughts. There was Caesar; young, brash, and brave.
Perhaps a little too brave. And then there was Tweety. His old green
feathers took on a new, almost fluorescent sheen in the sunlight, and
his eyes sparkled with years of experience and wisdom. But old as he
was, he was no weakling. If it came down to it, he could probably beat
Caesar in a fight. But, more importantly, he was perched on a bag that
had once held food. The budgies remembered that they had gorged
themselves on this food from the bag that Tweety now used as a
pedestal. The choice was obvious. Nearly every budgie in the park
flapped his or her wings, creating a slight breeze.
"Enough," said Tweety. "You have selected me as a leader."
Caesar stepped from foot to foot nervously. Ranger knew that
Tweety had to do something about this bird, or he could mean more
trouble later.
Evidently, Tweety was thinking along the same lines. "Caesar," he
said, "I am appointing your group special duties. What would you like
to do?"
Caesar hesitated. He hadn't expected the courtesy he was being
offered. He chattered among his group. "We'd like to help gather
food," he chirped.
"Fine," said Tweety, almost gratefully. "You can take care of
getting food. Good luck." Then, he turned and addressed the crowed.
"As I was saying, I have located the god of these people. We must head
north," he shouted, pointing, "to a place called Ottawa, and confront
their ruler." The budgies chattered approvingly. "It will be long and
hard journey, and some of you may not make it, but such is the price
of freedom. If there is any budgie who chooses not to go, flap your
wings now." He paused, waiting. Every bird stayed perfectly still.
"Good. Then let us begin our journey. Up! To the north!"
The budgies all chirped triumphantly and flew up into the air.
Ranger joined them, and found Queeny. "It's going to be a while before
we rest again," he said. "Are you sure you're up to it?"
Queeny smiled back at him. "Of course," she said, and surged on
ahead of him. Ranger was hard pressed to keep up.
CHAPTER 3:
It was nightfall. Although they had to make several rest stops
along the way, the birds had travelled many kilometres. During the
day, every budgie could see the extent of the damage the humans had
caused. Where the city ended, vast regions of the land had been
cleared for farming.
The farms were good, at least. Caesar and his scouts sampled some
of the ripening grains growing, and found them to be tolerable. The
flock, now consisting of about a thousand birds, had eaten their fill
and moved on.
Now, Ranger was beginning to regret it. Those strange seeds were
giving him a queer feeling in his stomach. But it wasn't intolerable,
and he could live with it. It was a small price to pay for freedom, he
reminded himself.
The constant, reassuring chatter of the flock was slowly quieting.
They'd found a patch of trees to spend the night, and the sun that had
guided them throughout the day was gone. Long after the silvery ball
had slipped down past the horizon, Queeny still stared at the sight.
She appeared to be fascinated by it.
"Well, you don't see that every day in the aviary," he told her.
She broke out of whatever thoughts she was having and chirped,
"No, I guess you wouldn't." She looked down. Some birds were already
sleeping. "When do you suppose we'll get there?" she asked suddenly.
"I don't really know," said Ranger. One whole day had passed, and
it was impossible to tell how many more would go by before they
reached the place called Ottawa.
Queeny stood on one leg stretched out her wing for a few seconds.
"I've never flown so far in my life," she said.
"Do your wings hurt?" he asked.
"No. Do yours?" she asked as a mischievous smile crossed her
face. Before he could answer, she bit him playfully on his back where
his wing began.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, and gently nipped her back. She giggled. He
brought his beak closer to her ear and added softly, "Now I'm going to
have to preen you." She held still as he gently caressed the delicate
little yellow feathers around her eye.
Suddenly, a blue, green, and yellow ball of feathers plummeted
down and landed clumsily on the branch beside him. Both Ranger and
Queeny snapped around, annoyed at the interruption.
"Hi, Mom! Hi Dad!" the ball of feathers exclaimed. "Oops, I have
to work on those landings." The ball resolved itself into a small
female, covered with patches of colour. She was vaguely familiar.
Ranger tried to think back, and determine who this budgie was
that had fallen from above and insisted on calling him "Dad." But
there had been so many clutches, and they were sold so soon, his
memory failed him. He could only chirp out, "Hi, err..."
"Oh, sorry," said the bird, "They're calling me Scully now."
"Oh," Ranger chirped, not knowing what to say.
Queeny regarded her carefully. "It's been a long time. you've
changed so much. But your still as uncoordinated as ever," she
chuckled.
Ranger suddenly remembered one particular chick from about a year
ago. She'd been clumsy right from the egg. She would accidentally walk
right over her brothers in the nest box all the time, and later on,
she'd never fail to knock the seed dish over, spilling it all over the
floor. Now, she was older and she'd developed into a beautiful hen.
But he couldn't tell what colour she was; green, yellow, blue, and
white patches were scattered all over her breast and wings.
Now, Scully chirped, "We have so much to catch up on! I don't
know where to start. Oh, I know! After I left you they took me and put
me in a dark box and I didn't know where I was and then they took me
out and put me in the cage with Mulder, but he flew away after the
first month." She stopped suddenly and Ranger saw a wisp of sadness in
her eyes. "Do you think he's still. around?" she asked him.
Ranger knew the chances of a budgie surviving alone outside were
grim. "Well--" he started.
"If he is, he'll probably find us," finished Queeny.
"Yes," Ranger continued, glancing sideways at his mate. "Our
expedition is being co-ordinated throughout the world. Soon, other
flocks will be joining us. You never know."
Scully recovered quickly. "Anyway, what do you think of Caesar?
I think he must be very brave."
Ranger raised his voice a little. "I think he's a foolish young
bird. What does he know about leadership? He'd be lost! I don't want
you mixed up with him." Some of the other birds were looking at them
through half-closed eyes.
"But-" his daughter chirped.
"I think this can wait until tomorrow," Queeny interrupted.
"It's getting very late, and we all need our sleep for the journey."
"Okay," Scully agreed. "Uh.. I was going to ask you before. It's
kind of scary out here. I keep hearing noises. Could I.. er. sleep
near you?"
"That would be fine with us," replied Queeny.
Scully jumped up and flew onto the branch beside her mother. But
her momentum kept her going, and she swung around until she was
hanging upside-down from the branch. She gave a startled laugh,
reached up with her beak, and righted herself. "Good night," she
chirped.
"Good night, Scully," both Ranger and Queeny said in unison.
A moment later, Ranger whispered in his mate's ear, "Good night,
my queen." But Queeny only turned away and put her head in her wing.
Now alone, Ranger nervously scratched his beak on the branch.
Something had to be done about Caesar. If Scully was an example of
what the young ones in the flock were thinking, they were all in
trouble. Caesar didn't know the first thing about leading a flock. He
was a wild card in an otherwise well planned operation. And the
operation was the most important thing right now. It was imperative
that nothing go wrong.
A cool breeze lifted his feathers. He pulled a foot into his warm
down, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Morning came quickly. Ranger was awakened by the voices of
hundreds of birds chirping in awe. He half opened an eye. Through the
branches, he saw a sky filled with warm colours. A thin feathery cloud
was draped over them, painted with orange and pink and all the colours
in between. Far above, the stars still shone weakly through the glow
of morning.
He stretched his wings and flew to the top of the tree to get a
better vantage point. Queeny was already there, and he set down beside
her. Wordlessly, they gazed at the world around them in wonder.
Seconds later, Ranger saw a thin crescent of light peeking over
the edge of the tree-lined horizon. It dazzled his eyes, but he
couldn't turn away. The flock was silent now as the crescent grew into
a huge orange circle that seemed to rise out of the trees. It soon
banished the stars to invisibility and poured a golden light over the
land. Ranger looked to his mate. The sun's rays made her almost glow
with a radiant yellow beauty. She saw the look in his eyes, and moved
closer, pressing her warm side against his. Together, they watched the
sun gradually rise higher in the sky. They watched until it grew too
bright to look at.
Ranger didn't see Scully at all that day. "I don't think
anything's happened to her," he'd told Queeny, "She's probably in the
flock somewhere, socialising." Still, he looked for her as they flew
and during the rest breaks. There were now thousands of birds, and it
was almost impossible to find any particular budgie unless you were
both looking for each other. When he was looking, though, once or
twice he glimpsed something far above them, a black shape soaring at
the edge of the vision. But by the time he motioned to Queeny, it was
gone.
After they'd been flying for a couple of hours, Ranger began to
be acutely aware of certain wing muscles. He tried not to think about
the ache. Instead, he talked to Queeny.
"When we take over the world, what's the first thing you're going
to do?" he asked her.
"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it," she chirped. "I
was hoping we'd find a nest - a real nest, not those wooden things
they put us in - and you and I would settle down again."
"That's all? But there's so much more we could do! We'll have the
whole world, just for us to explore."
She looked at him curiously. "You want to explore? Aren't you the
least bit tired? Do you honestly believe that you'll want to fly so
far every again after we get to this. wherever we're going?"
"I suppose not. but it was just a thought," he chirped. "A nest
sounds delightful." The pain in his wings was getting too much to
ignore. From the breathless chirping around him, he saw that others
were feeling the same way. Before long, they began a long glide
downwards. It felt so good to just relax, spread out your wings, and
yourself fall. It was such a long way to the ground. He closed his
eyes for a few seconds. His heart beat faster and he could hear it in
his head, like a buzz louder than the wind rushing past his eardrums.
When he opened his eyes again, the ground was a lot closer, and he was
exhilarated with the risk he'd taken. He'd looked death in the eye and
squawked, No!
Seconds later, he alighted onto a power line by a wheat field. He
stopped to catch his breath, but Queeny immediately flew down into the
short, golden-green jungle. Ranger leaped off and hurtled down again,
landing beside her. The earth was soft beneath his feet, and covered
with fallen, unripened seeds. He pecked at one and chewed it in his
beak.
Queeny was doing the same. "I could really develop a taste for
these," she chirped.
Ranger was still chewing his. It wasn't like a millet seed, where
one just cracked and swallowed. These things weren't quite ripe, and
he could taste the green in them. Plus, they needed to be chewed until
they were soft before he could bring himself to swallow them, husk and
all. "I don't know," he chirped back. "They're awfully tough."
"That's what makes them so good. They taste so natural!" She
pecked at the ground again.
"Natural isn't the word I'd-" he broke off suddenly and let his
seed husk fall as she came up with a black thing in her beak. A black
thing that was moving and had legs. It disappeared as she crunched on
it. "You. you, uh." he stammered. "You, uh. ate a.."
She swallowed it. "Try them, they're great!" she chirped.
Ranger just looked at his mate with pity. All of this flying
must have made something go terribly wrong inside her pretty little
head. Poor Queeny, he thought.
"They're the little black ones with three parts," she said.
"Look, there one goes. You try it."
Ranger looked around to see that no other birds were watching.
Then he cocked his head and examined the black speck making its way
down a fallen wheat stalk. It was as small as a grain of millet.
"Go ahead. They're sweet," she encouraged him.
He decided to humour her. Closing his eyes, he pecked at it. It
was in his mouth, tickling his tongue. He bit down quickly, and tasted
a sweet liquid. "You're right! They are good," he chirped
enthusiastically.
"Now you see I'm not crazy," she said.
They ate their fill of seeds and the black insects, and then
joined the other birds on the phone wires.
A young voice chirped at him from his side, "That was a long
flight, wasn't it?"
Ranger spun around and saw Scully. "Yes, it was," he told her. "I
don't think I could have flown much farther." He paused awkwardly. He
felt that he should have more to say to her. She was his daughter,
after all. But he'd never expected to see her again, until yesterday.
When the chicks hatched, they were all just indistinguishable pink
things until they got their feathers. He always had barely enough time
to teach them to feed themselves, and then they were taken away. Now
he looked at her in the light. She had grown into a pretty young hen.
Her feathers had those patches of colour, but were smooth as silk. She
reminded him of her mother. Any cock would be proud to have her for a
mate. "Have you found any sign of Maldy yet?" he asked.
"Mulder," she corrected him. She turned and stared off into
distance. "No. Not yet."
A moment passed in silence. She looked like she wanted to say
more, but couldn't. Ranger didn't know what to do. Queeny would know.
He looked for her, but discovered that she was no longer at his side.
What would she say now? "It must be very hard for you," he chirped.
A breeze swept over them, and Scully pulled a leg into her soft
down. "He was always there for me. When they brought me to that
strange place, he was there. He showed me around, where the seeds
were." She puffed out her feathers for warmth. "He used to-sometimes-
he would pull the water dish back and forth on the floor. I knew he
was doing it for me. I told him he didn't have to, but he did it
anyway." She sniffed. Her eyes, two obsidian orbs, glistened in the
evening light.
This Mulder sounded like a good bird. Ranger had done some of the
same things for Queeny in his younger days. But this silence in the
conversation bothered him. He should say something, comfort her. But
what could he say? He was a leader at heart. He could be diplomatic
when he needed to be, but that wouldn't work in this situation. How he
wished Queeny were here! Ranger stepped from one foot to another.
"I remember the games we used to play," Scully continued. "When
they let us out. He'd fly off, exploring. He was like that. Everything
was a mystery to him. I followed him everywhere, and we always ended
up in the weirdest places, like under the couch, or in the glass bowl.
He'd follow me sometimes, too."
This was good. Perhaps all Ranger had to do was listen.
"Then one day, he went out. I went after him. I-I couldn't find
him. That was the last time I saw him."
"Don't give up hope. There's a good chance we could find him,
if-" He stopped himself before he could botch things up. That was why
he needed Queeny here. Where was she, anyway?
"Don't think I don't look for him. Whenever we're flying, I
always look for him. And-sometimes at night, I think I here his voice,
but when I check it's something else." She sighed. "Its been so long.
I'm beginning to think I'll never find him.
"Cold out, isn't it?" she said suddenly.
"Yes," said Ranger, "It might rain." He could feel the dampness
in the air.
Scully cocked her head curiously. "Rain? What's that?"
"It's when water falls from the sky."
Scully chuckled. "That'd be too weird!"
Oh, to be young again, thought Ranger. The sky grew darker as a
thick, grey ceiling of clouds blotted out the sun. Some of the other
birds chirped excitedly. "I'm going to look for your mother," he said.
He jumped into the air and flew above the area, chirping out a call to
Queeny. His voice was drowned out by the conversations going on in the
flock below. He caught snippets here and there. Many of the birds had
not ever been outside before, and they excitedly anticipated the rain.
Some were even afraid. What if this water drowned them?
A bird came up beside him. It wasn't Queeny. "Tweety requests
your presence," said the bird, and then flew off in another direction.
Ranger followed, wondering what was the matter. They came down in a
small, twisted tree. Though it was still summer, it had already lost
many of its leaves. Tweety waited there, perched on one leg. He nodded
to the messenger who quickly departed. Ranger was alone with Tweety.
"You wanted to see me, friend?" he asked.
The older bird nodded. "Ranger," he chirped, "How have you been
feeling lately?"
Ranger cocked his head. "I've been fine. The seeds take a little
getting used to."
"And the flights? Are you able to keep up?"
"They're tiring, yes, but nothing I can't handle."
Tweety slumped a little now. "Ranger--" he began, and then
stopped.
"What is it?" Ranger had known this bird all of his life, and he
sensed that something was wrong.
"Ranger, I am getting old. I can't make these long flights."
"We could make more rest stops. Surely some of the other birds
feel the same way."
"No, no. We have to go on. Time gives young birds dangerous
ideas. I know that only too well..." A sudden gust of wind blew
through the tree, and Tweety had to stand on both legs to keep his
balance. "Ranger, I won't be flying much longer."
Ranger couldn't believe his ears. Only a short time ago, Tweety
had been a strong leader. It was Tweety who co-ordinated the world-
wide escape with the Great Bird. "Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You have
many years left in you. You're strong-"
"Ranger, listen to me. I'll last few more days, no more. I can
feel it in my bones."
Looking at him now, Ranger knew this was true. His dark green
feathers had become ragged, and one wing hung a little lower than the
other. He looked worn out.
Tweety continued, "When I go, I want you to take my place as
leader."
"Me?" Ranger gasped. It took a moment for this to sink in.
Ranger had always known this day would come, but now he was unprepared
for it. Tweety had been his mentor since Ranger was just a chick, and
Ranger was the most qualified to take his place. Still, Ranger wished
it were not so.
"I know that you can do it," said Tweety. "I like the way you
handled that young bird in the park."
Ranger puffed out his breast at the compliment. "You have
taught me well," he chirped.
"I'd still keep an eye on him. He could be dangerous to the
mission."
Ranger nodded. "His ideas are popular among the young ones."
"Try and change their minds about him. Make him look foolish.
The young ones form new life-long philosophies every time a feather
falls out. They will quickly change to our side." Tweety looked at the
overcast sky. "There's going to be a heavy rain tonight. You'd best
get some cover. This old tree won't be of much use."
"I can see that," said Ranger. "Will you be okay?"
"I'll be all right. That flight just knocked the wind out of me.
I'll find a better tree. Don't worry about me."
TO BE CONTINUED...
(SORRY ABOUT THAT. IF YOU PESTER ME WITH E-MAIL (hanovs@interlynx.net)
I WILL WORK FASTER.)
(
geocities.com/heartland)