WE ARE THE EGGS YOU DIDN'T EAT

WE ARE THE EGGS YOU DIDN’T EAT

“How do you know that’s what it says?” Old Blond didn’t trust pigeons any more than he could catch one, as if a squirrel would want to eat a dead bird. That was for dogs.

“First of all, grounder, what’s your observed delta on nuts?” Smooth, an almost pure white bird, was all business.

“We both know what that is, dinosaur. Probably a little less negative than yours, but you have two sources, seed and bread.”

“We don’t really like bread, you know. I’d like to shit all over whoever first said, ‘throw your old bread to the birds.’ You have additional sources as well, don’t you? Acorns? Berries? Worms? You eat pretty much anything you can get your little paws on, can’t you?  But getting back on track. I was a pill counter for a year in a compounding pharmacy, you know, put the right number of pills in the bottle. Apparently, people have some problems with that.  You learn a lot when they put you to work. I can read their scratching. It says, ‘PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE WILDLIFE.’ One day the air conditioner in the lab broke, and one of the humans opened a window. I flew out. And landed here in this so-called park.

“Just for the record, we aren’t wildlife anymore. We’re domesticated. We depend on them now. Until now, anyway. I know I don’t want to go back to eating green burrs.”

“What is it with you, squirrel? That’s not the point, the point is they don’t want people to feed us anymore. We’ll wander out, pigeons will get tangled in wires and squirrels will get run over and we’ll still be hungry. We’ve lived together here for 53 years, no controversy, pigeons and squirrels, we did our thing, you did your thing. Now we have a thing that affects us all. Too things, really. Haven’t you noticed the humans cutting down trees? Cutting limbs off trees? That’s less nesting space for both sides. You must agree, Blond, that something must be done.”

“We are already doing something. We’re training on a new trick protocol. Humans won’t be able to resist giving us nuts. Again, and this is for the record, there was that time when one of your people flew too close to Sid when he was doing an inter-arboreal leap. He broke a leg.”

“This is a time that tries pigeons’ souls. But also, for your record, there was a time when one of you built a nest too close to one of ours and one of Sadie’s eggs went crashing down. Can we please stay on point?”

“Don’t get your feathers wet. What is it you want? This would be a lot more fun if you were moose instead of pigeons. Hey, check this out” Blond skittered up a tree and did two 360s in the air before touching down on a lower branch, then marched himself down the trunk and faced Smooth. “We can do Immelmanns too, you know. Fuck Jonathan Livingston Seagull.”

The parlay was taking place in one of the tree & grass fenced-in lawns between playgrounds and apartment buildings in Ecker City. It was a popular spot for early morning peanut tossers, seed casters, and bread-spreaders. There were a few confused looks on some human faces when they saw what looked like a face-off between squirrels and pigeons. One of the regular feeders tossed some peanuts to the squirrels on the west side and some birdseed to the pigeons on the east. The pigeons at the meeting remained in formation; Blond had to give the dray some sharp looks to keep them from killing each other over, well, peanuts.

“That’s enough. We need a demonstration. An action. A march, a protest, a strike. We want to you to join forces with us. So we can all keep eating. The two-legs, yellow-vests now stop people from giving us our food when they see them. You know the blue lights high up on poles are eyes, don’t you? We can fly in front of the high eyes when people feed us. Then yellow-vests won’t come. You can do your tricks for the two-legs, keep their attention while the bird people feed us. That’s just a start. We both need leaves and sticks to make nests. With only leaves, the nests won’t hold our eggs. Or your kits. With only sticks, we would freeze. What say you, rodent? Will we be together like sticks and leaves?”

“Sure, Smooth. We’re always up for some laughs and kicks.”

“Alright, watch this.” Smooth issued a series of tur-turs and warbles. One rank a time, flights of five pigeons took off flying, abreast, due west. When seven ranks were on the wing, Smooth shot up to intersect the fliers. Each individual bird did a wheeling left turn. Immediately, the flight was now five ranks of seven heading south. “Can your people do that?”

“Sure we can. But why would we want to?” A standoff; Blond either couldn’t or wouldn’t engage in the proposed Anschluss. Blond and Smooth simultaneously issued their respective Sciuridae and Columba emergency barks and warbles. Darwin, a former pet Ice Pigeon, augured in above the meeting and pulled up about six inches in front of Smooth. Darwin had the respect of every local bird; she was a direct descendant of one of Charles Darwin’s Ice Pigeon lines. On the other side of the field, Blond turned to face Sloppy Sue and Big Balls Willy, two of the new mutant squirrels with thumbs.

“Blond, my brother. How’s yer nuts?”

“Safe in the dirt or full and riding high, depending, William. Hello, Sue. Nice seeing you again. Any reason you Pollex types now deign to talk to us lesser rodents?”

“Jus’ takin’ a look at whatcher got goin on with them flyin’ featherdusters.”

“The two legs can’t feed us anymore. See the sign there?”

“Sure, but I can’t read it ya flea bitten codger. Neither can ye read it any more than I can; who told ya what it says?”

“Blond. He was a lab pigeon. He can read.”

“Whaddaya need them vermin fer, just cause o’ that sign? Tails up and asses to them birds, them and what knit them. Watch this.”

The thumbed couple grabbed a twig each. Holding the sticks with claws and opposable thumbs, the pair quickly found and dug up some of Blond’s most secret special stash. “Fuggedabout those bird brains. Laird T’underin Lemur, we can help ya out if yer need what ter eat.   It ain’t nat’ral squirrels and pigeons mixing”

“What about the oxpeckers?”

“The which?”

“Oxpeckers. Birds that eat the insects off the wrinkles on elephant skin. If birds can cooperate with elephants, they should be able to cooperate with us. Or us with them. Six of one, you know. You’re in this with us and with them too. You’re too new here to remember the green shirts, the groundskeepers with their tools and sprays and traps and boxes.”

“Always a pleasure, Blond.  I’m thinkin’ we’ll sit this out. Aren’t those just stories to scare the kits from doing anything stupid?”

“You think so? Talk to Thitsa Elenko about that. Look, sign on for one action. Sue, what about you? You were always the brave one. Remember when you saved Goldy’s kits and climbed with three paws back up to her nest?”

Sloppy Sue faced her long-time mate, standing tall, showing the wear and tear of six nipples in two rows from her three litters.

“To every squirrel on this field, death cometh soon or late.

 But what better way for a squirrel to die

 than defending the holes where he hides his nuts

 and the hysterical mocking of the mutts.”

 She crossed over to Blond, Smooth, and Ice. “This is simple. Or it will be if everyone is on deck. Listen. The feeders like us. If we’re not here, they’re going to be very upset, and they’ll do something.” Some of the Pollex squirrels started crossing over to where the actions was. Ice was the senior pigeon and moderated. They batted around a few ideas and finally came up with a plan. Every squirrel and every bird would store up three days’ worth of their respective food. The birds would fly around and grab anything loose that was red or reddish in color. The Pollex crew would place the red items on sticks jammed into the dirt.  It took five days to gather food and ribbons and another day to raise their bandera rosa flags. The next morning, an hour before dawn, the warbles from one side bounced off the barks from the other and they were on strike.

“Ellie, have you seen any this morning?”

“Carol, no, not a single squirrel or pigeon so far. Were did they go? And are those poison markers?” Ellie pointed to the little red flags.

“You don’t think they would…”

“Who knows what these people will do. They pick up the water bowls I leave out, they tried lease-violating us one time but that didn’t stick; the squirrels and pigeons are legally city property. But we have to let people know what’s going on.”

By three O’clock the Park and City Press’s afternoon email blast included a short piece headlined “FINAL SOLUTION TO ECKER CITY WILDLIFE PROBLEM” with mentions of the possibility of poison being applied surreptitiously; that got a string of replies from the dog people about making sure poison use was clearly identified.  Children (of all ages) who loved watching the local critters were in tears. On the second day, there were protests in front of Resident services, and City Council District Four’s phone lines were jammed. As were the Mayor’s and Governors. Finally, on the afternoon of the third day, the drays and flocks came out in force. The Chief Groundskeeper was livid and actually ordered his crew to wield the implements of destruction and “clear out those wild animals once and for all, then they’re somebody else’s problem.” Fortunately, cooler heads did not exactly prevail, but were at least able to stave of an impulsive act of inhumanity. For a time.   The groundskeeper was ballistic and began a one man anti-wildlife campaign. Bob and Ray, the heavyweights of Smooth’s flock, began pecking the demon landscaper, which only crazed him more. He went for the service truck.

With minutes to spare, Sue, Ice, Blond, and Smooth came up with a plan. They had all the animals move to the complex’s central ellipse. Smooth instructed the squirrels on the spelling of he message; it took a lot more time than the same instructions to the flock. On that late summer Saturday afternoon, perhaps 4,000 people observed three drays of squirrels marching around the ellipse, their bodies spelling out “SUPPORT THE NEED TO FEED” while those looking up saw, in an astounding display of sky typing, the message “DON’ T STARVE US, FOLKS!” Ecker city and the whole of ornithology would never be the same.

# # #

Sue and Ice were enjoying the autumn breeze. Ice was on the perch of one of the many newly-installed bird feeders, and Sue was curled up on its roof.

“I brought some worms, an assortment. I think they’re the one thing we both can eat.”

“Thank you, Sue, that’s very kind of you. Funny, now people pay to feed you. I’m not sure how that works. A child puts a shiny thing in the box and peanuts come out. Amazing. You know, we wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere near landing distance with this plan without us working together. They each downed a worm and declared, ‘For the benefit of all.’” “Do you hear from Willy at ever?”

"He’s a mess. The groundskeeper is in the big building a mile north of here, where they keep the crazy humans. Willy goes up every day, climbs the wall to his window, and gives him a big thumbs up.