By Brody C
Christmas. Happiest time of the year. For most people, at least. Not for me. It’s the time when everyone leaves. After Christmas, we usually get new eggs in the breeder, and then by the time the chicks are old enough to be friends with me, they get adopted. But I never will, because I’m missing a wing. When I hatched I was normal, with my little wing stub. But while my siblings all grew their wings, mine just stayed as a little stub. But I lived. The breeder is always mentioning something called being “put down”, but her daughter always fights back by calling me a fighter. The only bird who stays every year is the mascot parrot, Maria. But she’s not great company, as when we’re talking, sometimes she just randomly screams things, her favorite being her name and hello.
Ooh, new people. Can’t wait to see what friend they steal from me.
“Maybe it’ll be us!” exclaims my friend, Munchy. The name comes from his insane amount of chewing on paper.
“Yeah right, look at me,” I say solemnly. “They're just going to steal you and leave me.”
“I’m looking at you, but I don’t see anything wrong…” Munchy says slowly. “I think your wing is cool. It makes you… well, you.” He picks up his ball full of paper, and pulls a piece out.
“Mom, look at that little bird!” A boy is pointing at Munchy. He walks over, and I’m ready for him to say hi to him, but instead he turns. And he says hi to me! “I want this one!”
“Are you sure honey?” His mom asks questionably. “They’re missing a wing. How about this one?” She points at Munchy.
“How about both? I don’t want them to be lonely,” the boy says, moving to say hi to Munchy. Munchy looks at me and smirks.
“Don’t say it…” I warn.
“Told you so!” Munchy exclaims, spinning on his perch.
After buying seeds, and a whole lot of millet, I have to get in a cramped carrier with Munchy. Normally, you can’t immediately introduce two birds, but since we know each other, it’s fine. Munchy is actually only a year younger than me, but was sent into the breeder after his owner couldn’t take care of him anymore. His way of coping was chewing. Most birds will pull feathers when they’re stressed or sad, but Munchy found a less harmful way. At some point, it became a habit, and his new name came across.
“You chose Fiona, hmm? Never thought that day would come,” the cashier says before she introduces my new owners to me and Munchy. Munchy is moving from side to side, hopping. This is the longest I’ve seen him go without chewing.
“Why are you so excited? I’ve grown to like this place,” I say, putting my foot up to the side of the carrier. I bite on the mesh but it does nothing.
“The outside world is so cool! You get other things than just seed. And you get to adventure around! I know you can’t fly, but there are all different things to climb and it’s SO. MUCH. FUN!” Munchy exclaims, starting to flap his wings a bit.
I chuckle a bit, “Okay, crazy,” I say while preening under my ‘shoulder’.
As the boy picks up the carrier and is about to leave, I hear my last words from Maria; “Bye bye!”
“Bye bye, Maria. Bye bye, home.”
I get put in a big cage with Munchy who is, well you guessed it, munching on some paper.
Munchy stops chewing on his paper to ask me, “Don’t you just love this place? The cage is so big!”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like we’re the only ones here!” I have to yell over the sound of the big screen the boy is staring at. I’ve been listening and have come to the conclusion that his name is Caleb. He’s sitting on a gray couch, kind of like a bigger version of the couch that people sit on when they meet birds at the breeder. I go over to Munchy and eat some millet.
“I heard that they have a conure. Hiz one of the green fwuffy ones! I think his name is Kiwi, or at weast that’s what I hord. I don’t know, I’m not as good at understanding human wanguage as you, but I hope I can be one day. That would make it a lot easier!” I can barely understand him as he’s talking while chewing.
“Make a decision, do you want to talk or chew?” I ask him. He takes off a little bite of the paper and eats it. “Be glad that paper’s non-toxic.”
“Non what?” Munchy asks, tilting his head.
“Non-toxic. It means it's not dangerous, so you won’t get sick,” I explain.
“Teach me some more human language one time, will you?”
Caleb walks over to the cage. “How are you guys doing in your new cage?” He asks. I would tell him it sucks, since he can’t understand me, but Munchy would get mad.
“He asked how we’re doing in the new cage,” I explain to Munchy.
“It’s great, it’s great! I love all of this paper and millet and seeds! It’s very seedy. It’s a seedy Christmas!” I chuckle at that one. “Fiona taught me what non-toxic means! I guess this food, and cage, and all of my toys are non-toxic, right?”
“You are a loud one, aren’t you?” Caleb asks. “Are you okay Fiona?” Again, I would say “no bring me home”, but Munchy would be mad, so I just stay quiet. He tries to pet me, but I’m not going to be that nice, so I dodge, and give him a little warning nip.
“Alright, sorry. I should have listened to the internet,” Caleb mumbles, walking away. Internet is one of the human words I don’t fully understand. I think it’s some sort of god.
As it gets later and later into the day, it feels like the tan walls of the room are getting closer and closer. The TV is getting louder and louder. The cage bars are becoming thicker and thicker. Not until Munchy comes over to me, I feel like it’s just me and the TV in this horrible, horrible world.
“You know, Christmas is coming up. The best holiday..?” He nudges me with his wing.
“What’s the point of Christmas? It's just sadness bottled up into a ‘season of joy’,” I mumble, shuffling my toes. Munchy gives me a piece of paper with his beak.
“Try it,” he tells me, chewing on his own. I take a little nibble. It’s actually more satisfying than I thought it would be. I see how he got addicted. “Christmas is awesome! You get all of these gifts, and it’s amazing! It’s the best day ever, even for little budgies like us!”
“Maybe, but I can’t get rid of the relation to my past,” I grumble, starting to doze off.
“Wake up! Wake up! Fiona, wake up! It’s Christmas Eve!” I wake up to Munchy pushing me with his head.
“What?” I ask, barely awake. “Why did you have to wake me up so early? It’s five in the morning. I thought the screaming started at six.”
“Not today!” He exclaims, grinning, or at least the closest a budgie can get to grinning. He’s flying around the cage. “Christmas, Christmas, Christmas! Trust me, you’ll love it! Pets always get spoiled on Christmas!”
“Fine, but if you’re wrong I’ll be really mad,” I explain. Munchy starts screaming and tweeting.
“Shut up! It’s five in the morning!” Caleb yells all the way from his room upstairs.
“But it’s Christmas Eve!” Munchy pleads.
“I said be quiet!” Caleb yells back. We wait in silence for an hour until it’s finally time to scream.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Caleb yells. When he comes downstairs, he turns on the TV. But instead of his usual TV show, he turns on music. Christmas music. And for some reason it puts me in a good mood. I don’t know why, it just does. “We have family coming over today, and I want you guys on your best behavior. No moping, okay Ms. Fiona?” I don’t respond. “You are a quiet one, aren’t you? You’re like the opposite of Kiwi.” Ah, so Munchy was right. He walks away dancing.
“Doo doo doon doo!” Munchy is singing along to music! And it sounds like the instruments and beat and everything!
“How did you do that?” I ask him.
“Do what?” He asks back.
“Sing like that!”
“Can’t you do that?” He questions. “Sometimes I’ll say human words even though I don’t know what they mean. Is that music non-toxic?”
“Number one; yes, the music is non-toxic. Number two; how? It would be so cool to be able to talk!” I tell Munchy.
“It’s not all that exciting. Understanding everything must be so much better!” He exclaims.
“I only understand some of it! Like non-toxic. But I don’t know what the internet is! Is it some sort of god? Is this thing called Reddit a place of worship? It’s really confusing!” I realize I’m starting to yell. “Sorry, I should be in the Christmas spirit.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I know this is a hard time for you.”
A few hours later, the first guests arrive. I think they’re Caleb’s grandparents or something, since they seem pretty old and happy to see Caleb and his mom. His grandma looks at me and Munchy, and seems to favor me.
“Oh, you poor baby, missing a wing! Does it hurt?” I would tell her it’s okay and that it feels normal to me, but she wouldn’t be able to understand me.
“Wait, Munchy, can you say ‘she’s OK’ in human?” I ask him.
“No, sorry. I have to hear the phrase a lot to say it well. It’s not the first time’s the charm kind of thing.” The grandpa seems to favor Munchy more, since he has a lot of energy.
Munchy sees him and starts talking; “Hi hi hi! Are you Caleb’s grandpa? Caleb’s so nice and awesome! He played Christmas music this morning and I sang along because it was so good! Do you want to hear me sing it? Okay, okay, okay this is really exciting, ready?” He starts doing a melody from a song I think is called “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.
“Well you are a happy little Christmas birdie aren’t you?” Caleb asks, rubbing Munchy’s cheek. Munchy makes a happy chirp and tweets the instrumentals to a song I think is called “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”. “Wow, Munchy! I didn’t know you could mimic!” Munchy looks at him and makes the cutest little smile ever.
“Well, that’s official. You're his favorite,” I tell Munchy.
“That’s not true, I’m just more… more optimistic." He says back. More people walk in, listening to Munchy’s music, having sympathy for me. Until a little boy walks in.
“Mommy, look at that weird bird! He has no wing!” First of all, I’m a girl. Second of all, I’m offended! I tell Munchy what he just said.
“Don’t listen to him, Fiona. He’s little. He doesn’t understand. Even if he does, there’s jerks out there who don’t care,” he tells me, rubbing one of my pinfeathers.
“Thanks Munchy.”
The party goes fast, especially with Munchy singing. Lots of people come over to listen to him sing and pet him. I get a few people who talk to me, but most people are amazed by his pitch perfect tweets. Me and Munchy have to be moved because Caleb starts a fire. After I eat a bit of seed, I doze off, Munchy still chewing on my pinfeathers.
“Fiona! Fiona! Fiona!”
“What?” I wake up to Munchy in my face.
“Look!” He points his wing to the tree. There’s gifts. Lots and lots of gifts! There are stockings full of presents, and the tree is full of candy canes. This time Caleb is the one to come down yelling and screaming.
“Come on guys!” He’s followed by his mom, dad, and a little kid who I’ve come to the conclusion that he is his brother.
“Mommy! Look!” Caleb’s little brother is pointing at all the gifts.
“I know Jacob. Caleb, open this one first,” his mom tells him. Caleb opens the gift and sees a picture of a bird, I think of a cockatiel.
“Another bird! Thank you mom!” He hugs his mom and I smile, for the first time I’m here, I smile. Caleb runs and brings in the conure, Kiwi on his finger. Kiwi is chewing on Caleb’s hair, and he shows him the picture. “Conures and cockatiels are supposed to get along, so maybe you’ll have a friend.”
The conure looks at me, and he mutters, “There’s the attention stealers.” He gets put back in his room, and I get to open my own gifts. Seeds, toys, perches, more seeds. Munchy is thrilled when he finds out he got ten balls full of paper.
It turns out Christmas isn’t that bad.
Comments
Post a Comment