Note to Readers:

ATTENTION—NEW NOTE TO READERS:
If you'd like email notification of the new posts, let us know at gulliver.initiative@gmail.com.

32—Thonk and Splat

Ah, the advantages of small-town life. On the third morning of the rest of my life, I returned home from registering myself and my pickup at the DMV—all accomplished in less time than it would have taken me to stand in line back in Vegas. The cats were happily exploring the apartment and comfortable enough to ignore my return. With lunch in mind, I went to the refrigerator. 

The thwuup of the refrigerator door opening was followed without pause by a thonk, a hiss, a wail, and the tiny gallop of cat paws. “kwawk,” said the bird, announcing his presence at the big middle window.

Photo by Walt Van Campen
“We’re just ignoring him,” I reminded the cats.
The bird opened his beak wide and screeched.
cd hissed from the back of the sofa in the middle of the living room.
MITTS was nowhere to be seen.

I laid two slices of bread on a plate and opened the cheese. 
The bird padded to the kitchen window and stood, shfting back and forth on his splattlly pink feet in waif-like anticipation.

I stepped into the living room on the pretense of getting the newspaper to read at lunch. 
The bird raced back to the living room window as if on a desperate mission.

I returned to the kitchen counter and began cutting up an apple and some cheese.
The bird, head and beak stretched forward, jetted back to the kitchen window, skidded to a stop, and retracted his neck into his orphan-of-the-sea pose.

I set my plate on the table next to the window.
“kwiwk,” simpered the bird.




“This Dickensian act of yours,” I said, my face to the glass, “it’s so derivative.” 

The bird began screeching, setting off the thumping in my ear that such sounds always triggered.
Impervious, I lifted some bread and cheese to my lips. 
The bird took hold of the aluminum window casing with his beak and yanked. My stomach tightened.

I’d stuck the stale pita bread in the refrigerator. But no. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be blackmailed by a bird. 
I was just going to laugh at the thonk of his splattily-flat pink feet and enjoy the antics of this little con.

Freed of the pressure, I picked up an apple slice.
The bird just stood, watching my every move. 
“It appears,” I called to the cats, “that we escaped the spiritual hazards of Las Vegas, only to be stalked by a bird.” 

No response from Mitts. 
cd stared at me from the sofa with her pinched-face disapproval. 

“kwawk kwawk kwawk,” complained the bird.  
But I simply smiled, finished my apple slice, and lifted more bread and cheese toward my lips. 
The bird let out a KWAWK and knocked on the window with his beak. I waved my arm, and he backed off but then hooked his beak into the aluminum casing and yanked as if determined to take out the window.

This was ridiculous. I came here to be free of all pressures and find peace. And I wasn’t going to let an eighteen-inch con artist deter me. Taking my bread, cheese, apple and some cat treats into the back room, I spread it all out picnic-style on the bed. The bird took off. The cats joined me—MITTS relaxed; cd, approving. 

After lunch, exhaustion from the move overtook me, and I fell into a deep nap. 
Shortly after two, I wandered out into the kitchen to revive myself with some tea. I’d barely set the kettle on the stove when I heard the thonk.

I turned abruptly and driven by a flare of annoyance stomped my foot in the direction of the window. Jolted, the bird flew off to the top of his telephone pole. 
Damned pest, I thought. But while waiting for the water to boil, I gazed up at the pole, feeling guilty for behaving so aggressively. He was, after all, only a bird. 
And I thought of Gandhi’s admonition—“Be the change you want to see in the world.” 

As if reading my mind, the bird took off, flew out over the bay, circled back in a figure eight, then dropped down onto the far edge of the roof with the most darling web-footed thonk and stood, one pink foot lapped adorably over the other.

How about that, I congratulated myself, he understands now that if he just backs off a little, we can be friends.
“kwiwk kwiwk,” said the bird with a cute tilt of his head.

No comments:

Post a Comment