the nest

The nest was littered with straws. Some were golden, reflecting the rays of the sun. A bird teetered on the edge. It looked down, chirped, flapped its wings. It took a step back. A head about the size of the whole body of the bird rose from the nest. It looked at the little baby bird, resting against the big golden ball on the horizon. The wind picked up just a little, the head made to move towards the baby bird, hesitated, and then stopped. Not today. It tottered back, body heavy and ungainly. But it was learning how to use it. The beak opened, a shrill caw coming out. It sputtered. Coughed. Came back to its mother. Nestled its face in her bosom. The smell of the cicadas did not reach this high. The mountain was fierce and tall. A stone fell from nearby rolling down the mountain, increasing in speed and intensity. The mother shivered. She wrapped her head around her little birdling. She looked down, wondering why she had made a nest this high and then remembered. She looked at her weak wing, not sad. This was how nature worked. The weak died. Unless they could make up for it in some way, in her case in the form of intelligence. So she had secured her little ones high in the sky, where predators would not attack her. Or more importantly, them. The chick stuttered a little, unwrapped itself from her embrace and walked again to the edge of the nest. It flapped its wings cautiously and then it looked down. It stumbled backwards. She smiled to herself and then worried a little. The former because it was so courageous. The latter because if her child was so afraid, it might not make it in the difficult world ahead. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they could not fly. The fall, she would not be able to save- she shivered, she did not want to think about it. She almost imagined she could smell the cicadas below. The earthy smell. She could almost hear the squirrels far below, scurrying around for nuts. Could almost see the leaves fluttering in the wind in the forest at the base of the mountain. She stopped daydreaming. This was her problem. Imagining a better life for her offspring. The sun began to rise higher. Each of her children began to wake up. Casing as they realized they were hungry. She shook off the twigs in her feathers, and prepared to take flight. Going to search for food for them. She realized she was hungry. With a mighty flap, she took off, her already large wingspan casting an even larger shadow on the ground. Off to hunt for her flock. The three that were just waking up, and the one that had courageously been trying to fly. Leave the nest. He saw his mother fly away, and he clawed, heartbreakingly. He flapped his wings, ran towards the end, and jumped off. They could not hold his weight.