State of Liberosis

Black-legged kittiwakes are flying birds commonly known as “winter gull” in New England as they hint at the incoming winter. Here in Manitoba, province of Canada these are simply kittiwakes. There are two subspecies, namely R. tridactyla pollicaris and R. tridactyle tridactyla. Mainly seen near the sea except during the breeding period, from May to September, when they can be found nesting on the sheerest sea cliffs. They are rarely found inland, though they have been sighted on a few occasions as far as 20 km inland. Normally, kittiwake spend most of their time on the wing out of sight from the coast.

This overwhelming amount of information is useless, especially for a twenty-something girl who can’t remember what she had for breakfast. Now that’s just my opinion because the screeching of "kit-ti-wake" from the common room says otherwise. I’m amazed my ear drums are still intact. After spending an hour trying to convince the bird to rest its vocal cords, and then failing miserably I escaped into the next room. If I had my way, I would ‘accidentally’ unlock the latch on its cage. But the bandaged left wing strikes my lovely heart and I pull my hand away. Leila would return from her parents soon and take over. But that was a week away.

Now I can hear the rusty bolts in your brain slowing down. Cue the swooning heart that believes taking care of the bird is the goodness in me. Hate to disappoint, not really, but I give, and I get. In other simpler words, I take care of the injured bird till Leila returns and she’ll come with me to the conference which will take place at Arviat next week. Staying home during the holidays has my mind rotten and I’m starving for communication with people like me.The fashionista was willing to come with me for the programming workshop if I didn’t turn a blind eye to the groaning bird I saw at the shore. Sadly enough, the lovely video call feature helped Leila see the mourning bird behind me, before I could even set my eyes on it.

My compassionate self took the bird to an aviary because the nearest vet was not near enough. Thankfully, they had a vet on duty and the next thing I know I’m not alone anymore.

Sad, I know. I can hear your heart breaking for me and I appreciate the sentiment.    

While I received a manual from the aviary, “taking care of kittiwake workshop 101” it had me at a loss for words. My sarcastic mind that had turned hush after getting a bachelor’s degree in programming suddenly came at me with weapons ready, and I felt dumb.

So, I consulted my best friend. Shoutout to Google for saving me once again. But Wikipedia was assuming I was a dork who could easily comprehend the gibberish presented. Not a dork but I definitely felt dumber. At least I had figured out a couple of things; its name, that it was an adult male, and it preferred salty water to drink. Which was okay for me. But the best part was what tridactyla meant, the thing was three-toed. It was an astonishing feature that had me returning to the screeching feathered creature.

I

Was

Amazed.

Like, that was so cool. We could be twins of a sort with my hind toe missing. 

The bird was...impressive to say the least. With a flawless white head and body, a dusty grey back that complemented its grey wings that were tipped solid black. It had black legs which was pretty obvious considering its name. The only feature that miffed me was its beak. It was yellow, which wasn’t the bad part. It shined, shimmering in the common room that had chipped yellow paint on its walls. Me and Leila had had a huge fight- a huge discussion when it came to paint the walls. In the end, after a competitive tic-tac-toe I chose yellow. It’s sunny and happy. But the painters did a terrible job. And I was pretty sure Leila would comment on the bird’s beak when I video-called her. 

Right now, I sat on a comfy couch, my favorite especially when we are killing zombies and I'm winning. Like always. We had moved on to observing each other. I was wondering what to name him when he let out another screech. On instinct, I screamed. Funnily enough, that seemed to shut him up. So, he did have ears even though I couldn’t see them. But if he used his vocal cords 24/7 then how come they were still functioning. Helpless, I tried to zone him out.

I still had so much to do. Get a ticket from Churchill to Arviat. The money wasn’t an issue because I had been saving up to go back home. But that plan fizzled into nothing when my parents decided to visit my older brother in Sydney. So, I had money, a roommate willing to travel and a conference calling my name.

“Prolog” seemed to be making a regular appearance in my dream each night. Come to think of it, I knew it like the back of my hand. Sadly, that wasn’t the case in real life. But the conference would change that. Open new paths for me or at least clear my mind and solve a few questions I had.

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 I had given the bird salty water to drink. Tap water actually, but it was salty to an extent. Besides, Google gave the green signal, so I went for it. The up and down motion of its neck as it slurped was another sign that I had done nothing wrong. The timer dinged and I escaped to the kitchen. The stare-off had resumed when the water was almost finished, but I had to leave to take a look at the microwave and not because its beady eyes were intimidating me. The granite counters seemed to be laughing at an inside joke or maybe it was just my panic seeping out. My neck was sweaty, and I was slightly afraid of that thing inside my house. 

Could I panic right now?

I took the tray laden with defrosted fish closer as it moved its head abruptly. Like a glitch in one of the avatars in a video game. Or maybe a YouTube video buffering? My mind was mixed up and I just wanted a small nap even though the sun was still out. But like a good host I slid the steel tray into the cage, eyeing the unwanted guest as it poked around the headless bait discourteously.

Tsk tsk, the ungratefulness.

“Come on, eat up. I didn’t sacrifice my fish burgers so you can sniff around and be so...so. rude-” I heaved.

I should work on my insulting skills. But it had sounded so good in my head.

It seemed to work though because he started eating. At least I think so because the chunks kept disappearing as he devoured it whole. Giving myself a pat on the back, I turned and settled down on the couch.

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Was I doing something wrong? Because if I was, I'd be thankful if someone gave me a solution. With my blue highlighter in hand I got up, wielding it like a sword. It seemed comical as he continued to bob his head while wailing like a banshee. 

Ah! Music to my bleeding ears.

So, in a form of retaliation, I asked Google to play a rock metal song. And then I bobbed my head and screamed along because I had no idea what the lyrics were. It was futile as the bird continued to howl loudly. And soon enough, as the playlist continued, I came to an insightful conclusion. I’d rather listen to the bird all day than the banging of metals.

When I was younger, I wasn’t an obedient child. Perhaps every child is like that, until something traumatic changes their outlook. And it’s not always conspicuous. I, often, assumed that ‘the moment’ which would change the course of my life would be just that. A moment. Sadly, as I grew up and watched everyone settle into their lives I concluded, that wasn’t the case. Decisions we make in our life are consequences of our past. Consequences of other’s experiences. Being the youngest has its perks but as the years flew by, the realization that being the favorite doesn’t last forever became a hard pill to swallow. The coddling and adoration dims down as everyone figures out their life and their voice. And in a flash, you’re sitting at your desk confused as you go through different colleges with no idea of what you want.

The Déjà vu of that day hit me hard. I sat in front of the window; the cage was perched atop the windowsill. Wanting advice back then hadn’t worked out. Multiple calls but none of my siblings had answered. I couldn’t blame them though. They had a life and time differences were a big reason why they couldn’t pick up. 

In the present ‘moment’, the green button is glowing on my phone screen but the urge to call has faded. The advice would come after an hour of teasing and disbelief that I was taking care of an animal when I couldn’t even take care of myself.

I was jolted out of my thoughts as my phone vibrated. My older brother’s face who was a perfect mix of my mom and dad flashed on my screen. With a groan, I stood up and ran to my room. Not receiving the call would be a disaster in the making, considering the fact that my parents had definitely reached his place. 

Shouldn’t they be sleeping right now? 

His grin warmed me as he waved and then gestured to my parents behind him. The call lasted for almost an hour. Exchanging pleasantries, promising to come visit next time and discussing all the fun times we had when we were little. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as my mind flitted back to our house I hadn’t been to for over two years. The last fifteen minutes consisted of stumbling over my words as they questioned me about the noise coming from the background. I almost turned around and made my way to the bird to give him the ‘stink eye’. Unfortunately, knowing I couldn’t pull off that look like my mom, had me excusing myself. The call ended when I told them I had some assignments to complete. The glint in Elijah’s eyes told me he didn’t believe me, but he aided me sleekly. I sighed in exasperation after the call ended.

My feet tapped against the dark carpet that covered the floor. The inside of my cheek was damaged, and my throat was dry. These tendencies only intensify when I don’t calm down immediately. Now, it was too late. I stood in a hard place; Firstly, I couldn’t bear Hush for an entire night. Secondly, my panic rushed to the surface when I thought about calling a rescue service. What would I say? What if I say something stupid? And the embarrassment when they come to pick Hush up and realize the person on the phone was actually a grown woman with no conversational skills.

In the end, my insecurities won, and my ears were defeated. Hopefully they won’t be killed by the end of the battle. Also, I read somewhere that a name reflects a person. In other words, if you want someone to have a specific characteristic-there are higher chances of succeeding if their name defines said characteristic. Therefore, I entitled the name ‘Hush’ to the dynamic bird. And I was desperate for him to uphold its name.

The next morning, I woke up before the alarm. I had ‘Hush’ to thank for that. The lack of sleep, loneliness and irritation of bird sitting had the anger burning inside me. Only when I entered the living room did it extinguish as if cold water had been dumped mercilessly. Hush sang a different tone this time. An ‘‘oh oh oh oh’’ that had me spooked. I made my way closer. Ah! I guess his digestion was working full time. I looked at the dirty tray and sighed. Time to clean up!

After emptying the tray, giving him some water and fish, freshening up and having breakfast I sat down in front of him. He still hadn’t quietened down. Right now, we were conversing in our own languages even though we had no idea what the other was saying. But I was lonely, and he was the only companion I had. I complained, discussed my papers and what I expected from the next semester. He sat inside his cage assessing me as if I was the talk of the zoo. 

The cage had me shifting around uneasily. The reason why I never adopted an animal was the guilt even though my family thought otherwise. Now as I looked at the exotic bird stuck in a golden cage, I felt dirty. It deserved to be with his family-or whatever they called their folks. But he was stuck in a strange place with a strange girl who couldn’t even take care of him properly. All because of a stupid fisherman who couldn’t keep an eye on his fishing rod and its hooks. With a grumble, I stood up to find the brochure given by the aviary.

I was discussing the do’s and don’ts with Hush when my phone rang. I gave a big grin to Leila who let out a laugh. I was half-tempted to beg her to come back but a small part of me wanted her to stay with her family. They were scattered around Europe and had gathered at her Aunt’s place after a long time. And the way her eyes shined told me she was really happy. So, after exchanging hello’s I quickly asked her how her days were passing. She asked about Hush a couple of times, but I steered her away as much as I could.

A talk with her calmed me. So, with a big inhale, I dialed the helpline number of the Bird care zone. Their website said they offered rescue service too. Maybe they would come pick him up. Take care of him until he is fit to return to the open ocean. After multiple self-talks in front of the mirror I tapped the green button.

The call went awkwardly. With them asking questions in bird language and me answering in English. With some embarrassing pauses and throat-clearing, I ended the call. A small part of me was so happy but I was soon overwhelmed. I guess I was missing my family if I was relating with a bird. I looked at him and shrugged,

“They’re closed for the holidays, but they’ll send someone by Friday. You’re pretty important, I guess. But until then it’s you and me, bud.”

He said nothing in return. The next few hours he sat quietly until the silence got too loud. So, with a few Google searches, I placed a tray of fish and some water in a bowl on the table. Then, with lightning speed I unlocked the latch and dashed out of the room. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t move. Just sat inside silently. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Was he depressed? Did I do that?

With a shaky breath, I entered the room after an hour. My hands were shaking as I crept up to the cage. My hand raised and I took the lock before pulling it towards me. As the cage opened, he fluttered out. It was huge. And remarkable. Without a single glance at me, he flew to the table and started devouring the frozen fish. Its moves were jittery, and I swallowed. Can they sense fear?

I’m stupid. Like I knew that, but after coming top in my class and getting into a good college I assumed those days had passed. But as the huge bird commanded my house, flapping its wings about, I realized those days might have just resumed. I sat on my couch with my knees to my chest. Can I call the police? But the phone was in my room and I didn’t dare move. Almost three hours had passed, the little clock beside the television remote ticked away as if everything was perfect. I looked at the bird who now stood on the windowsill. It tapped its beak repeatedly on the glass, reminding me of a woodpecker. But they have their tongue wrapped around their brains (Natgeo told me) to prevent them from breaking their heads. But what about Hush? A pout settled on my lips as I looked at the poor bird.

I bit my lip before I started humming. It seemed to work with my sister’s dog who would immediately calm down. I had a good but reticent voice. But birds were known for their beautiful chirping.

Surprisingly enough, he paused. Long enough for dusk to arrive and for me to succumb to sleep.

They came the next morning, easily tempting the bird (I wasn’t calling him Hush anymore) with some kind of device I couldn’t hear from. Something about audible frequency. There was admiration in the man’s eyes who now assessed his bandaged wing. The green monster was clawing inside me and I exhaled sharply. After another person took the bird away, the man walked up to me.

“You’ve done a remarkable job taking care of it-”, he continued but the it had me zoning him out. It was a male-a he. After a couple of more sentences, he took his leave.

Closing the door behind me, I burst out crying. Even the workshop to meet my true love did not alleviate my aching heart.