Devonne Brown

The Birds

“I want to stay in this tree this year,” she said.

“The leaves are falling off and there will be no place to cover the nest. The crook of the tree is going to be really cold. Haven’t you heard of snow?” he asked her. He was frustrated. She wanted to live in the moment, he looked to the future. He knew that brown leaf on the ground, and the one dangling from the branch meant cold was coming. He knew that snow came too, sometimes it was deep.

“I’ve been up here in the winter, it’s awful. Nobody puts out birdseed anymore. The war made prices on everything so high that bird seed was the first to be cut from most budgets, especially black sunflower seeds,” he said. He was trying to be reasonable. He was too old for this shit. A cardinal could hang with the best of bluebirds in a West Virginia winter, but didn’t have to. He had the power, freedom, and knowledge to fly south, but Nancy wanted to stay here, in this tree, in this yard. 

Richelieu the Cardinal, started in again, “Let me remind you, the lady took out the birdbath months ago because she didn’t want the dog drinking out of it. She has never bought black sunflower seeds, ever. She won’t even throw out table scraps for fear of a racoon invasion. What is the point of staying here? The tree was good in summer, decent this fall, but winter? Why would anyone want to live over a yard full of dog shit and sticks? 

“Richelieu, I want to spend the winter here. Sometimes the cat gets out and it’s fun to chase. Besides, this wall of sticks back here, the one that looks like an Elizabethan fence? It’s got everything we need. The old bat that lives here may be crazy, but she’s made us a decent habitat.” Richelieu looked around and saw her point of view, but wouldn’t admit it. 

“Nancy, you’ve gotten set in your ways,” he said. He flew over to the wall of sticks. “She needs to straighten this mess up a bit, but you’re right, it’s got everything we need. What about the snow? You’re no spring chicken anymore, Nancy. The cold is mean up here. Killing cold.”

“Look, nobody’s getting out of here alive anyway. I want to stay here. I know where everything is. I see no reason to fly for days and fight over a limb somewhere down in North Carolina. Their barbecue has a vinegar base anyway. I prefer the thicker, red sauce of Tennessee, shit, give me a bottle of Sweet Baby Ray’s and forget about it,” said Nancy. She hopped to the top of the stick wall and ate a worm that crawled across it. 

Richelieu shook his feathers out and preened a bit to hide his irritation. Nancy had a point. Cardinals looked good against a backdrop of snow, that’s why they made them into postcards. They may as well stay and be part of the old bat’s picture this winter.