The Nekky-Bird Song
by Mike MoranWhy would a fireman throw food at his girlfriend? Because that's what he had done. And the woman stood there beside the picnic table while the potato salad dripped off her hair and her nose and plopped on to her turkey sandwich.
A sparrow calls out to a wren: "Hey, you see that? That male threw slimy roots at that female!"
The birds were perched up in this dogwood tree right there beside the picnic area in the middle of these woods down deep in the state park.
"Wow," calls the wren and flutters down closer to the woman, right down on the ground, wanting maybe to know the taste of the potato salad that the woman had wiped off her face and now swept on to the ground - right along with her turkey sandwich.
Now the fireman - he was slamming the door to his firetruck. He was firing up his engine and he was pulling out. The woman just stood and watched that sign on the back of the firetruck - "STAY BACK 500 FT" - go five hundred feet, a thousand feet, two thousand feet away, smaller and smaller, and then disappearing entirely, over the forest ridge.
The woman broke and ran. She fell to her knees across a stretch of grass, reaching out after the truck. And her wailing was like song that she was calling, calling, calling...
The sparrow shivered and closed his eyes.
"What's with her?" That was the wren, calling up to the sparrow, beak stuffed with potato salad.
"The male left."
"So?"
"So I don't think he was supposed to."
"Why not?"
"Because, because, because... I don't know. Don't you ever watch them?"
"The big nekky-birds?"
"That's right. The nekky-birds."
Because that's what they call us. Birds call us nekky-birds.
And the wren calls: "No. I don't watch them. Did you want some of this? It's amazing."
"You know, it's not like they came here to feed us!"
"They did too!"
The nekky-bird, the woman, got up from the grass and wandered back to the picnic table. She stopped when she saw the wren.
And the sparrow, thinking like a sparrow would think, thought, Get outta there, you stupid wren. Nekky-birds hate little birds like us.
The woman was still crying - calling out with caws and twitters, is how the sparrow thought of it, but it was winding down to something more like chirps.
The woman crouched and cocked her head at the wren.
The sparrow, up on his dogwood branch, studied the woman with his strong bird eyes.
The woman's eyes - the sparrow had never seen eyes so big before. And the plumage around the nekky-bird's eyes was all red. The sparrow wasn't sure it had been that color when both nekky-birds had arrived.
The wren, meanwhile hopped around on the cold, cold ground and pecked at the potato salad.
The sparrow called down to him: "Be careful!"
The wren looked up from the potato salad and saw the woman looking at him.
"You think she's going to take a poke at me?" the wren called.
But before the sparrow could answer, the woman giggled.
The sparrow thought: Listen to her twitter! He noticed that, as the nekky-bird watched the wren eat the potato salad, the red around her eyes started slowly going back to its original pale color.
And then the nekky-bird went very, very still. The sparrow watched as the woman slowly blinked. He watched, in wonder, as water came out of the nekky-bird's great eyes, cleansing in small, slight streaks down her face.
The woman looked at the wren and twittered something else.
"What's she saying?" the wren called up.
"I don't know," the sparrow called down, "but she's definitely calling to you."
"Aw," said the wren, "that's so cute!" And he hopped away from the potato salad and went to the sandwich.
The woman watched the wren peck at the spilled food and called something soft and quiet, punctuated with a big breath.
"I don't know what she's saying," the sparrow called down, "but she seems to be...disappointed... that you're only there for the food."
"OH MY GOSH!" called the wren. His feathery head was covered with bright yellow mustard and there was a bit of turkey dangling from his beak. "You have got to come down and try this!"
"OH GOOD LORD!" called the sparrow. "DROP THAT!"
"WHY?"
"It's turkey!"
"What's that?"
"It's another bird!"
The wren went still. "Really?"
But then, suddenly, the nekky-bird, the woman, was moving forward, swinging at the wren, calling out with these loud, angry caws.
The wren fluttered crazy back up to the dogwood tree. "Ah! Oo! Hey! Whoa! Whumpfh!" He landed awkwardly near the sparrow. "Why did she do that?"
The woman began picking up the sandwich. She took it and threw it in the trashcan, the entire time calling out to the wren in quick scolds.
"Is she yelling at me?" the wren asked.
"Of course she is!" answered the sparrow.
"Why?"
The sparrow fluffed. "Because you can't do that to another bird."
If you haven't caught on yet, the sparrow won't be doing anything for the nekky-bird - for the woman, that is. What can a sparrow ultimately do for a nekky-bird with a broken heart anyway?
Eventually, the woman will leave the forest.
Eventually, the sparrow won't think of her so much. He won't think of the way the woman fell on her knees across the stretch of long grass. Eventually - tonight, as a matter of fact - the sparrow will wake up from a dream there on his dogwood branch and think he hears the sound the woman made as she called after the great, red firetruck. He will think for a moment that he hears again the harsh, beautiful, mind-wrenching song of the woman, calling, calling, calling. Eventually, the sparrow will not hope so much that he might someday be able to sing a song like that.
Although he will always remember the little song the nekky-bird sang as she cleaned up the picnic area. Eventually, the sparrow will learn how to sing that song himself.
©Mike Moran
Mike Moran has had work published at Slow Trains and Reflections Edge. He teaches in Iowa. To read his previous work with RE, click here.