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The Bird
The cool morning air felt
wonderful to Brown Speck as she lifted her wings. The Sun was just clearing
the eastern edge of the village and dew shined like bright jewels upon the
grass. Dropping to the ground and dipping her beak, she filled her crop with drop
after drop of the dew. Oh the sweetness! As water was scare and hard win. So,
every chance must be taken to refresh herself. Giving a happy chirp she
jumped into the air and flew to the fig tree. There to feast on ripe figs and
sing with others of her kind.
On the desert floor, families journeyed from village to village with each
family headed to the village of their birth as directed by the King of these
lands. Many traveled well with fresh camels and donkeys and large tents
covered them during the chill nights and small glass cups of tea refreshed
them during the heat of the day. Others did not do so well as they walked
step by step across the burning sands and rock and what shade they could find
only lasted but a few short minutes. Water, water to drink, oh that was a
treasure. By the time many reached the oasis, the water was bitter and nearly
black with the foul spit of the camels. So the women carefully poured the
foul mixture through layers of fine cloth in the hope of making whatever was
left, drinkable. In the heat of the day, they all rested as best they could.
Then moving on again as the day passed into late afternoon.
Brown Speck rustled her feathers then worried a parasite from under her left
wing. Throwing it into the air, she snapped it up with a flick of her beak.
Looking around her, many of the others from her flock were still asleep. They
would only awake as the Sun's light dimmed at end of day. Then it became a
busy time as each rushed to find seeds, look for figs, and drink water from
the puddle by the village well. And then maybe, finally, sing to one
another.
Men also moved about in the cooler warmth of the afternoon. And in the far
distance, a small group of travelers could be seen unhurried, unable even to
hurry. They made their way slowly down the long road to Brown Speck's
village. The villagers paid little notice as a weary man lead his donkey
toward them. The woman was seated on the donkey and was visibly in pain and
discomfort. But, no one offered them aid, no one even cared to look at them,
except to curse as they passed. The Villagers honored the King as he
demanded, but they cursed the ones who had to travel to distant villages many
years in their past. They cursed the foul smelling peasants that had no coin
to pay the Inn Keeper's fee. Or the coppers to pay the Baker's price for
fresh bread only one copper for stale bread before the pigs got it. Another
copper for a handful of dates and figs of which this man shared with the
woman. A clay pot gave them water from the well which had been pulled up from
deep underground. At least, this water was fresh, cool, and clean and it
helped to wash the desert dust from their lips. Spitting out the date seeds,
the Man placed his fingers on the wide stomach of the Woman. A smile appeared
as the Baby kicked once and then again. And the man bowed down and prayed
that they would complete their journey before the baby made it's way into the
world.
Interested in the date seeds, Brown Speck flew down to the ground. Pecking at
the small pieces of sweet date meat still on the drying seeds, She hopped
from seed to seed, pecking here, worrying off sweet meat there. She let her
interest in food foolishly guide her. No one saw the Cat as it moved slowly
from behind the village well and, with a leap and a bound, it landed on Brown
Speck! Razor sharp claws pulled at feathers and flesh in an instant. Brown
Speck tried again and again to fly away! Pain! Pain! Fear! Fly! All raced
through her in that instant and she knew that there was only a single heartbeat
left to her. Then a shout and a stone startled the Cat. It bounded away as
quickly as it had appeared. Feathers raining from its empty teeth. Brown
Speck shuttered. Pain! Pain! Fear! Fly! A single wing answered her call. But,
the other lay torn and red. Brown Speck's right wing had been laid bare by
the claws of the cat. There was now no hope, no chance, and no dream of
flight again. Only minutes remained before the cat returned to feast on her
still beating heart.
The Man who had thrown the stone just stared at the small bird as it tried
again and again to make its broken wing fly. He picked up another stone and
moved to finish the cat's work. But, then as he moved toward a hand came out
of the darkness to stay the stone. Reaching as best she could with her wide
belly, the Woman folded the bird's wings against its sides. Making cooing
sounds and a warm breath it became the small bird's whole world as sizes,
shapes, and smells flooded the area around it. Seeing the woman with the
bird, the man shook his head and looked down at the ground. Nodding down
again to make his point crystal clear. The woman's looked only at the small
life within her fingers. This life needed a chance, so did her baby, they
both just needed time. Sighing, the man dropped the stone and went to care
for the donkey. He knew that sometimes you had to lead with your heart. Even
when it was wrong. And this was one of those times as he saw it. But, as he
returned, the woman had a smile on her face as she carefully dropped drops of
water onto the bird's beak. Overcoming fear, Brown Speck filled her crop with
this lifegiving water as she felt it slowing the rapid beating of her own
heart. There was still pain and fear, but not the madness of flight.
The next day's journey was a repeat of many other days. The same slow walk in
the hot blinding sun. The sips of water for the woman and the donkey the
smile of refusal from the man. And drop, vital drop, for the bird from the
woman's hand taken from her own mouth as the man watched. It was only a bird,
the man's face seemed to say, again and again, the baby as needs as well.
But, the woman just smiled and placed the bird against her own beating chest
and there it rested. Later, after the heat of the day, the man walked into
another village. There again, another copper for stale bread, another for
figs, and ..curse the King.. two coppers for a plate of spiced meat to share
between them. A feast after days of bread and spoiled dates and the woman
smiled and laughed as the baby made its presents known. Kicking enough to
move the cloth over her belly. The man too smiled and rested his hand over
the cloth. Thereby, feeling for him, the wonder of life.
Brown Speck chirped as the woman fed bits of dates to her. The wing still was
painful and lifeless. But the flesh had sealed out the sickness from the claw
marks and the fever had started to go back down. Pecking a final bit of date,
the woman's hand gave a drop of water to the bird. And then she was returned
to the woman's breast. A soft beating heart in the woman's stomach matched
the slow loud heartbeat of the woman. Life echoed life.
As dawn came upon the land, the man and woman were again on the road. A final
day of travel! And then, maybe .. rest., if only for a short while. The
woman's face was pale and marked by pain the life inside her was fighting to
be born. Soon. And the man prayed they would find a place for the birth.
Being born on the side of the road was a matter not to be thought upon and
his village was near, almost in sight. He hurried the donkey as much as he
could. And moved on in the late afternoon while the heat was still molten.
But, the village was finally in sight even if there were miles still to go.
The bird chirped as the baby kicked. As if to say, be patient, a few hours more
and you will be free. And then they could all rest in the village of its
birth.
The dust of the desert coated their hands and faces and the Inn Keeper looked
at their threadbare robes. No gold or silver here, and no copper to be had
either. The Inn Keeper shook his head and started to move away when the woman
let a small sound of terrible pain cross her lips. The Inn Keeper heard the
sound, as did the Inn Keeper's wife. Both looked closer at the woman upon the
donkey, they saw the woman's pinched face and the stain appearing on her
robes. They both nodded their heads toward a small mud hut in the back of the
Inn. Then walked away.
The woman smiled! Shelter, even poor shelter, was welcome news. And the man
helped her down from the donkey's back and kicking together some straw and
hay, the man laid his own sleeping robes over it. Then helped the woman to
lie upon it. A roof of dirt and straw, how brightly it seemed to her. The
walls, mud also, but firm and looking down upon her, her donkey, another, a horse,
and two sheep. They were in the stables! The woman smiled for a moment before
the pains stopped her. Seeing a clay bowl, the woman reached into her robes
and carefully placed the injured bird within it.
Brown Speck had seen many creatures born in her short life. And knew that the
woman would soon bring forth the life within her. The bird remembered the
eggs she had laid in her youth, how they later became young, her young. How
she had given them water, and pieces of figs and dates. Seeds, bugs and flies
came later to make them stronger. The desert gave life, but harshly. And
nothing could be wasted. The man came to the woman with a clay bowl of fresh
water and clean rugs. He washed her face and arms. Cooling her from the heat
of the day. Being alone, he washed her legs and stomach as best he could.
This was not a task he had done before. Sheep and goats, yes, even his donkey
was born into his hands. But, never a human child.
Brown Specked watch as the new life could at last be seen. A patch of flesh with
brown hair. Just like her feathers, how wonderful..! Brown Speck chirped and
then started to sing!! The bright clear notes seemed to ease the woman's pain
so she sang louder. Making each note as long as she could! She flexed her
wings and sailed into the air. So that all could hear her song of joy!
Because now, Brown Speck had seen new life being born. And she knew that this
life was needed upon the world. And Brown Speck flew into the night singing
her song of welcome. So that all would know that he was here, at last.
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