Birds’ Eye View
by Brett O’Reilly
Atticus peered over the low stick wall, watching the figure below with interest as it struggled with its contraption.
Ornithopter, Atticus thought. That’s what Titus called them. Titus was wise to the ways of humans.
“Hey Atticus! Whatcha up to?”
Atticus nearly fell over the edge and out of the nest at his friend Red’s unexpected arrival.
“Jeez, Red, warn a bird next time! I almost fell out like a fledgeling!”
“Sorry Atty,” the robin said, as he settled in beside his finch friend, “No harm, no fowl though, right? Just wondering what you’re up to.”
“I’m peoplewatching,” said Atticus. “Look—down there. On the path.”
Red bobbed his head over the edge and studied the human below.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know, but he’s been doing it for awhile. Chirping about it too, and not in a nice way.”
The two watched as the human below tried to fit a flabby black circle inside a rigid black circle lined on the inside with silver. A guttural chorus floated up to the birds’ vantage point.
“Hey,” said Red, looking around, “Didn’t this used to the Sparrow’s landing pad?”
“Used to be,” Atticus replied. “They migrated south for the winter.”
“I thought sparrows don’t migrate.”
“Normally they don’t. Jack said Bobbie was tired of the snow—wanted someplace warm all year-round. So they headed off to the Kerrybean.”
“Yeah, knowing Bobbie, she egged him on.”
“Oh, that’s funny,” Atticus said. “You’re a real dust-up, you know that, Red?”
“Hey, Atty, look! Someone’s coming!”
Another person appeared on the path, riding another ornithopter; its two large circles spun as it travelled down the trail. The first person called to the second; the second responded in the same croaky, cacophonic song before laying down their ornithopter and going to the first human.
“Not exactly the fleetest animals in the forest, are they?” Red mused.
“Who’s not?” said a black beak as it inserted itself between the two birds.
“Geez!” Atticus again barely caught himself from pitching over the edge.
“Oh, hi Titus,” Red said.
“Hey Red,” Titus said. “Tell me—did you know that ravens have eleven pinion feathers, and us crows only have ten?”
“Really?” Red asked wide-eyed, while Atticus chirped a groan.
“Yeah,” said Titus, “You might say the difference between us is a matter of a pinion!”
Red guffawed, “Hah!”
Atticus shook his head. “Birds of a feather.”
Red guffawed again.
“Hey Atty, not bad!” said Titus. “And they say you’re not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny!”
“And you’re doing a fine job of it!” Titus, deadpanned, making Red guffaw a third time.
“So what’s happening?” The corvid leaned over the wall of twigs to survey the scene below.
“The one with the white and blue plumage is having a problem with its ornithopter,” Atticus felt his chest puff out with Atticus’ nod of approval, “The purple and yellow one stopped to help.”
“Hmmm. Hmm. Hm.”
Atticus and Red both looked at Titus, then spoke in unison.
“What?”
“Well, as you know, I understand a little human. The blue-and-white one?—has a ‘saggy ribbon’—those are the circles that make the ornithopters roll. The purple-and-yellow human is helping the other one make the saggy ribbon stiff, so that it can go into the hard ribbon with the silver lining.”
“Hm.” Atticus and Red spoke in unison.
All three continued to watch.
“Maybe we should go poop on them,” said Red after a moment.
“What? Why would you even think of that? What are you, a pigeon?” Atticus stared.
“Don’t bother,” Titus said, “The humans actually think it’s good luck.”
Atticus and Red both looked up. “Really?”
“Yup. Oh! Don’t look now—they spotted us!”
Both looked down at the humans staring up at them, the purple and yellow plumed one pointing a featherless wing in their direction.
“What’s got them worked up?” said Atticus.
“Maybe they knew the Sparrows,” speculated Red.
“Actually, they’re excited because they’ve never seen a finch, a robin, and a crow in a nest together,” Titus interpreted, “Which gives me an idea. Red, tilt your head back, let’s have a little fun.”
Catching Titus’ intention, Red kicked his head back and opened his beak wide. Titus raised his head skyward and made gurgles in his throat—then leaned forward and pretended to regurgitate food into Red’s open maw.
“Look at them!” Atticus said, “The humans are going crazy!”
Trying their best not to break their pantomime, Red and Titus both glanced over the edge with one eye. Below, the humans were chattering and jumping up and down. The blue and white human pulled out a flat black stone from some hidden space in their plumage, but in their hurry, dropped it onto the ground. A sickening ‘crack’ filled the trail.
The excited warbling turned nasty.
“Wow, I don’t even need to understand human to know what that meant,” said Red.
“Yeah, humans can be pretty fickle,” said Titus.
“Anyway, it’s been fun, but I do have to fly,” he continued. Putting on a show over in the dogwood meadow. ‘Murder Most Fowl’. I’m the shopkeeper, detective number two, and victim twenty-eight. You’re welcome to watch, if you like.”
“Sounds good!” said Red. “How about you Atty?”
“Nah, I think I’m going to stick with peoplewatching today. Thanks anyways.”
“As you wish. See you, around Atticus.” The corvid took to the air.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Red said.
“Yuh, enjoy the show,” Atticus replied.
The robin took off after his blackbird friend, leaving Atticus to return his attention to the scene below.
The purple and yellow human was climbing onto their ornithopter; the other sat on the ground, the broken black stone held between their flightless wingtips.
Poor fella’s having a bad day, Atticus thought. Then he recalled something Titus said.
Maybe I can turn things around—give him some good luck, he thought, as he launched himself from the nest and swooped down on the unsuspecting human, bowels at the ready.