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The winter birds arrive first in peaceful silence, a stark contrast to the
chattering family of finches that follow. Then the blue jay flies in, an
obnoxious fellow who crashes down heavily from the sky with no
regard to others. The mourning dove couple comes together, but they
always seem to be in a foul mood. The male pecks his mate every time
she wanders too far. Once, he digs too deep and draws blood.
They are nothing like the lovely pair of cardinals, the last ones at the
seeds from the ground and daintily, lovingly, feeds them to his mate.
When dusk has passed, they flit away into the darkness, fleeting
I want to believe that I am not so different from those little birds. Two
I want to be with the others. I want to ask them their names, to share
The moon rises and the night belongs to the owls. I close my eyes and
Eventually, the sun creeps over the horizon. Its light casts a harsh
new day.
I push off from my branch and take flight. A number of alarm calls
sound from the woods beneath. My shadow passes over the feeder,
devoid of life. A warm thermal raises me high into the sky. I survey my
Todays breakfast: freshly caught field mouse. This one made the
what little meat it has to offer, I wipe my beak and talons clean in the
The first time I fly into the feeder, the birds scatter in every direction.
The blue jay shrieks a few choice words at me as he rockets into the
I open my beak to greet a new friend, but before I can get a word out,
the untouched snow. The others have not yet noticed my presence,
the tree.
closer, some birds fly while others sit stunned by the peculiar sight
through my beak. The mourning doves bob their heads in distaste and
spread their wings. The rest are quick to follow, leaving me alone once
more.
colder than ever. After two hours, the birds return, but I take no
They will not accept me among their ranks. No matter what I do, they
will not let me even get close enough to speak with them and convince
them that I mean no harm. If only they would listen, they would realize
the truth.
For the rest of the day, I do not move from my perch. The birds
commune in warmth while I remain trapped in this icy silence. The sun
sinks and the air turns chill. My hunger grows, but I make no effort to
sate it.
I have decided. If they will not listen to me, I will make them listen.
As the last scrap of sunlight vanishes over the distant mountains, I take
flight, cutting through the night sky like the sharpest of talons. My
wings tuck into my sides and I plunge towards the ground. Faster.
Faster.
the female cardinal makes her escape. Her mate does not follow.
writhes to free himself and I tighten my grip until he can barely move.
and they shall understand. I only wish to be part of their world. I do not
struggles cease to be. I wait for his response, loosening my grip so that
he can speak.
The cardinal slumps to the ground. Limp. His dark eyes are glazed and
I am no stranger to death.
I look up and see her sitting in a tree, watching me. My eyes miss
nothing.
The female cardinal lowers her gaze, looking at the corpse in my
talons. Then she spreads her wings and flies away, never once looking
My talons sink into my prey, staining them with blood as bright and
I understand now.