Little Red Cardinal

You ought to be grateful, Charles. Not many young birds would be willing to mate with such a sorrowful whistler. Father's words from the night before coat my mind through to the early morning when Caroline’s cheerful chirps wake me with a start. I hate the morning. I hate its stupid crisp air and rising pink sun.

A parental-shaped shadow peaks through the rootlets I’ve braided over the top of my nest to keep that very ball of fire out. Father advises me to fluff my vibrant red feathers, glisten my beak, and head out for the hunt like the Redbird he raised me to be. Mamma says my cousins don’t get to hunt like we do, Uncle Landon doesn’t even have a mate. How lucky am I to come from a long lineage of Royal Northern Cardinals, I should be honored.

My definition of luck came in a plump brown package. She was a loner by choice and didn’t understand the need for mates. So when Caroline and I bonded as hatchlings, we made a pact to only put up with each other. I need my space, and everyone already avoids her. A match made in a Mulberry tree. Father never could understand the need for more, what with brains the size of a thumbnail – my mind wanders still. I dream of longer flights with grander views; late nights, and even later mornings.

Still, we need to eat. I’ve cleared the distance of green grass I’d trotted brown yesterday chasing a grasshopper. Through the clearing ahead, an old run-down human nest comes into view. Mamma says the humans live in these boxes, storing food for the winter along all the walls. If only I could find a way to do the same. Caroline’s melodious song mingles in the air and I project a matching tune. When I cease, she elongates her sound and I know it’s time for breakfast. I must hurry, my instinct is to provide. I mustn't waste any more time daydreaming. Surely Father is right when he tells me this yearning will pass. I can’t see anything good from down here, I’ll need to get higher.

I spot a flash of red from the corner of my eye when I land on the branches extended from the human box. Wait, who is that? A bird matching my height and elegance stares back from the shiny square hole in the side of the oversized nest. Who the hell is that? An anger I’d never known burned through my chest. He’s here for my food, Caroline's food... My unborn hatchlings' food... The intruder mirrors my every move, as if mocking me. Can he hear my thoughts? Oh God... Charge!

~CRASH~

Dried branches lining the gravel driveway crackle under Jeanie’s SUV. She ponders the warn yard, and the lifted paint on the decrepit deck that Larry and Ben put up in 78’. Fourteen summers had passed since life had graced this doorstep. Rounding the corner and up the backstairs, the old lady is pleasantly surprised to see the windows have yet to be smashed in.

Cardinal melodies fill the salty air cocooning the forgotten cabin; fully bloomed trees sway in the summer breeze. The ground lay still. Mangroves block the wind the sea brings forth, and wildlife reaps the riches of the calm moisture. The neglected garden in the backyard has brought forth a chaotic insect paradise. Tomato vines spread far and tangled through the un-mowed grass. Jeanie scoffs in dismay as she enters her beloved shack. Summers spent here with the children are long gone, and it’s time to say goodbye.

She had come here to clear out memorabilia and eat a homemade lunch by the sea one last time. After finishing her canned tuna sandwich over the sink, Jeanie tests the taps, and the water flows after a quick putter. She gets lost in the summer sun illuminating the gaillardia through the window above the sink. One of the flowers hops towards her, startling the woman. She squints her eyes to focus, but it’s not long before the flower flutters its wings and lands on the deck outside; revealing itself to be a small red bird. Jeanie’s eyesight is not what it used to be. Locking eyes with the unexpected visitor, she wonders if Larry could be there to see her off. Tears form, memories flicker, and a smile spreads across her face.

The bird, however, did not seem to share her sentiment. Only seconds later, it took flight in a fit of anger, violently colliding into the window she looked out of. Jeanie gasps and catches herself on the sink's edge. Sobbing, the meager lady totters outdoors to save the poor beauty. Her gaze sweeps the deck, but the bird is gone. Feeling a rush of relief, she knows they will both be okay.