Hearts Aflutter

Crumbs fall at my feet. I peck at them, searching for the softer bits. It doesn’t taste right and I briskly wipe my beak on the ground. I strut off in search of other offerings, but so far only stale crumbs and rancid seeds litter the stony ground.

Leaving the open area, I wander over the uneven grass, pecking at any potential spot. I only find seed shells and things that might have satisfied me, but are now covered in ants. I raise my beak at the uncivilized spectacle of the ants and take flight, landing on a cold, damp twig. I ruffle my feathers and preen a little.

It’s been a slow day. Most visitors to my home are staying away, though the rain ended late in the night. But this way I won’t have to worry about those furry four-legged monstrosities that seem to think I’m edible. My tail twitches at the memory of Crimson Beak’s near miss the other day. He disappeared in a puff of feathers and only later did I discover him, wide-eyed and motionless behind a bush; he barely acknowledged me when I cooed at him.

But now he perches in a neighboring tree, his mate Sandy just below him. They sing loudly and eagerly, and probably won’t stop for the rest of the day.

My gaze travels lower and there! I see everyone’s favorite visitor has entered the grounds, a familiar seed bag clutched in her giant…well, she’s not a bird, but it looks like she has two claws, no feathers, and strange flippers for feet. Shimmering golden threads cover her head. I swoop down and land by her feet as she rests on one of the low stone ledges.

I amble in lazy circles near her—Sunflower, as she’s known—and wait for her to dispense the usual food. Soon tasty sunflower seeds fall all around me and I race to gobble as many of the ready-to-eat treats as I can before anyone else arrives.

Sunflower’s covered in drab browns today and I wonder what kind of mate she hopes to attract. Some yellows might accompany her well, or perhaps a bold red like Crimson Beak. Many of the other visitors are in dizzying and confusing colors, and make their indescribable noises, but not Sunflower. She stays on the outer edges of my home in her strange plumage of subtle browns and grays, and she studies the other visitors. Crimson chirps at her the same way he does at Hawk the Ripper, but I don’t think she’s that dangerous.

I peck up another seed and scoot over to the water tree to take a deep drink. Looking back over my tail I see Sunflower…I coo angrily and waddle back to her feet. She’s eating the seeds, and several precious bits fall out of her beak-less maw and to the ground. I hurry to eat a few more seeds but quickly get too full and grudgingly cede ground to the other flocks now converging on her.

Sunflower remains until most of the birds are settled for the night and even then she only leaves when the small floating suns flicker into existence.

~ ~ ~

I don’t expect Sunflower for another few sleeps, but the next day she’s on her usual stone perch. She doesn’t have any seeds and I haughtily ignore her because of it. Until, that is, she starts screeching in that un-melodic way the visitors have, flapping her featherless wings and stomping in furious jerks.

All the other birds fly clear, but I nibble on a stash of seeds collected earlier that day, watching Sunflower rage at an invisible enemy.

Another visitor approaches Sunflower, his slick coat a lustrous blue, the kind I only see on the obnoxious Jays and Joes. He taps her on the shoulder and she whirls to face him. Her pale skin now resembles the color of Crimson’s feathers.

Sunflower squeaks out a greeting to this new popinjay and he rumbles a reply. She diminishes under his inspection and waves her flimsy wings in defeat, slumping back to her stone ledge. The newcomer, Big Jay, takes the empty perch beside her and hands over a lumpy bag similar to the one she normally carries.

I stroll closer to the pair.

Big Jay reaches into the bag and showers of sunflower and pumpkin seeds cascade around me. I race to fill my beak. Other seeds I don’t recognize scatter across the ground, and bits of berries and bugs too. What a feast! And so fresh!

Many other birds join me and I glance at Sunflower. She and Big Jay are now both throwing out food.

A flash of soft brown catches my attention and I turn to see a beautiful female dove picking at the outside edges of the feast. My berry falls from my beak and I charge toward her. I bow my head several times and coo loudly. She pecks delicately at her berry and pauses to look up at me. I puff out my chest and bob my tail.

~ ~ ~

My dove is impressed by my flying and spiral descents. She runs to me when I land and we go to the water and splash around together.

I watch every day for a visit from Big Jay or Sunflower. Several rests pass before either of them return. When they do, I immediately swoop down as they both throw out food. I swiftly gather the best pieces to share with my dove.

Sunflower is singing in short bursts and I glance at her. She and Big Jay seem…at ease. No fear or worry surrounds them and I walk a little nearer. No Hawk will attack them.

~ ~ ~

I am foraging for our nest. I search deliberately for the sturdiest twigs and return with them for my dove to begin building our home. I chose the spot because of the boughs above us: we will be dry no matter the storms.

Big Jay and Sunflower still visit. Many times Big Jay has scared off lesser jays for trying to impress Sunflower. He will be a good provider for Sunflower.

I go back to picking materials. I return to my dove, give her the perfect twig, and fly back down to resume my hunt.

~ ~ ~

Many rests go by without Big Jay and Sunflower. I wonder if they are busy building a nest together. It was a joyous time making the nest with my dove.

I hunch down deeper in our nest. We are waiting for our first clutch to hatch.

Crimson and Sandy have also made preparations for a hatching. It was't a contest, I told my dove, but Crimson and I were both sharply aware of what the other did. My dove cooed in disapproval but waited patiently as I raced across the forest in search of the best twigs while Crimson sang mockingly at me as he supervised the building of his nest.

Today I peek over the edge of the nest to coo a greeting at Sandy and spot Big Jay striding by us.

He stops at his and Sunflower’s spot. In one claw he carries a collection of wildflowers and I catch the scent of the wonderful edibles. Big Jay’s other claw preens the thick fluff on his head until it stands up like Crimson’s tuft. He flattens his crest and collapses on the ledge, the flowers dangling loosely.

I situate myself better on the eggs and search the area for Sunflower. She must not be far away and maybe she’ll bring seeds.

The sun begins to fall and still Sunflower does not appear. Big Jay ignores the other female visitors flocking closer to him and at last stands. He carefully sets the flowers on the stone ledge and slowly leaves. I perk up. Maybe I could have the flowers; something nice for my dove.

A loud call travels through the air and it alerts Big Jay. He stiffens and I spread my wings protectively over the eggs and search the air. More calls sound and I relax when I see Sunflower. She’s covered in pale blue today and the way it moves makes it look like she’s flying toward Big Jay. She tries to capture him with her stick-like wings and Big Jay’s longer ones easily surround her. He holds her close and the two sway back and forth. The flowers are forgotten.

The pair walk off together a short while later, claw in claw. Theirs was a strange courtship, but it seems to have concluded. I hope they bring seeds next time.

When my dove returns to our nest, I dive down to the flowers and pluck a few blooms.