Prompt: Baby Birds

"write about someone who finds a baby bird that fell out of it's nest

and they think about climbing the tree

but instead they lecture the bird" - H.W.

Note: Responses to prompts are written as quickly as possible, thus the quality may fluctuate though I will strive to do my best to create a decent piece in response. Also, this piece has no title... sorry, my friend.

Baby Birds

The bald little bird fit snugly into the palm of his hand. The scruffy feathers of its small wings tickled his fingers as the nestling writhed, its throat convulsing in high and hungry cries. Its bright beak seemed too big for its head, open wide the way it was.

“Man, you’re an ugly little guy,” Ethan grumbled, hands cradled in his lap. Honestly, there wasn’t much more to say. When he’d trudged along the usual hiking trail, the youth hadn’t expected to find a baby bird rolling in the dirt. Even more so, he hadn’t expected that his conscious would bid him stay with it.

For the fourth time in ten minutes, the youth’s gaze flickered up towards the branches. He could see the nest there, in plain sight, just above him. It was precariously perched in the fork of one high, slender branch. Not all too high, an easy climb for a person, but it was still a small miracle that the nestling had fallen from such height unharmed.

Though, for Ethan, it was because the bird was healthy that he was forced to stay. Injured, he’d have an excuse to take it to the rehabilitator instead, but taking a nestling from its home for any other reason was… well… plain stupid. And climbing the tree himself was just a hassle.

However, that didn’t mean he was completely at peace with his decision. “Shut up,” he groaned, furrowing his brow. He dragged his free arm across his forehead. The red and gold wristband wiped the sweat from his skin. God, it was hot, and god that persistent noise was annoying. He shifted his legs, plunking the nestling from one hand to the other. “I don’t have any food for you. It’s not like I planned to get saddled with an ugly bald bird today.”

Uncaring of his plight, or perhaps offended, the nestling seemed to chirp all the harder, its little head bobbing and tiny tongue curling with every bursting cry. Ethan breathed a sigh as he thumped his head back against the tree. “You gotta be stupid to fall out of your own house anyway,” he mumbled.

Then again, who was he to talk.

It was a note of grace how that line of thought was cut short. A rustle of leaves jolted Ethan from his musings, and he found himself straining to catch a glimpse down the trail. A hiker. Obviously experienced, from the wear of the shoes and the ready pack on her back. Shoulders already lighter, Ethan’s lips twitched up in relief. How exactly would he explain this situation to a stranger, he wondered.

Deciding it doesn’t matter, he hoisted himself to his feet. “Excuse me,” he called, cupping his hand to his mouth. “Ma’am, excuse me!”

Surprised but welcoming, the hiker woman straightened her cap and jogged right on over to the youth. “Well, it’s good to see young men out and about in these woods,” she said, eyes crinkling with her smile. It didn’t take her long, however, to notice the famished wails of the nestling in his hands. Her smile faltered.

Picking up on the cue, Ethan recited the explanation he’d rehearsed, how he couldn’t take it to the wildlife rehabilitator uninjured, and how the nest was just a few feet up, how it wouldn’t take very long to climb at all, and if she could just be so kind as to—

“Look, kid.” Ethan tensed. He didn’t miss that subtle shift in tone, from pleasant to patronizing. Regardless, the woman kept talking. “I know you want to help the poor thing, but fact is, this is just nature doing its thing.”

Ethan shuffled his feet, free hand rubbing at his neck. It was the little, unconscious things that betrayed his discomfort. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

The woman shook her head, adjusting the straps of her rather large pack. “That there’s a finch, and it’s small, even for a nestling. Probably got pushed out of the nest.”

“Yes, I’m aware, which is why I’m—”

“It means that it wasn’t strong enough to survive,” the woman cut in, and there was an air of finality about her that Ethan didn’t like. His expression changed to one of mild disbelief as the hiker continued on, “Natural selection’s just doing its work picking out the weak.”

No. Ethan didn’t like that. He didn’t like that way of thinking at all, not in the slightest. Even the nestling had grown quieter, as if sensing the youth’s distress.

“With all due respect,” Ethan started, but the hiker just shook her head.

“Ain’t doing it kid. It’s best not to mess with nature,” she said, and reached out with one finger, as if to scratch the nestling’s head. Before he could think, Ethan jerked his hand away, cradling the bird closer to him. The hiker’s lips twitched in displeasure, but she said nothing. Readjusting her cap lower, she added, “If you’re so dead set on it, why don’t you climb the tree yourse—”

But at the quick onceover she gave the youth, her hawkish eyes fell upon the brace at his knee and the hiker fell silent. Her mouth remained open, as if the words had left her partly formed, before she thought to close it. Glancing at the sweatband on his left wrist, she gave a small smile with a look Ethan had developed an acute awareness to. “A Manchester fan, eh?” she murmured. Pity softened her words.

By the time Ethan thought to say something, the woman had already left.

Discomfort brewed in the hollow beneath his ribs, and he just then noticed the fist clenched at his side. His fingers ached when he uncurled it to lightly stroke the soundless nestling. “What natural selection,” he muttered, spitting out the words under his breath. His eyes were clouded with murky thoughts.

The nestling began to cry again.

“Stop that,” Ethan snapped, though his words were tinged with something soft. “It’s your own fault you got pushed out, so quit whining about it. You should’ve been more careful.”

It wasn’t as if he thought the bird could understand. It wasn’t as if he expected anything. The words just came of their own accord, left his lips as if they were meant to be said.

“What if you had broken a leg – or I guess wing is more accurate… but think about it. You’re meant to fly. If you fell and broke your wing just because you weren’t finch enough and too chicken to stand up to your siblings, you can’t blame anyone but yourself if you can’t ever fly again, you know?”

Rambling thoughts. A torrent of words.

It had just been a nostalgic trek in the woods. Nothing was supposed to come of it. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. “I don’t care what that woman said, natural selection or not, if you’re weak, it’s because you’re not making the effort,” he said. “Don’t just let them push you out like that – show them you’re strong enough.”

Of course, the nestling continued its starved little cries, and Ethan came to realize the ridiculous of the situation. With a sigh, he swept his hand up through his hair, and murmured, “But of course, you’re crying ‘cause you’re hungry. A lecture won’t do you any good…”

Before he could sigh again, a shrill sound cut through the air. Then another. Shortly after, a throng of footsteps could be heard pounding the dirt, and voices became more apparent.

“Jung, put the frickin’ whistle away!” “Don’t push—!” “Guys, the coach is going to kill us…”

The one with the whistle was the first one around the bend, and familiar memories bubbled to the surface of Ethan’s mind. He recognized that carefree face anywhere. Crooking his arm in a curt sort of wave, Ethan found himself quirking a smile.

The whistle gave a dying tweet as it fell from its owner’s mouth.

“Ethan, is that you?” the youth called Jung said, slowly, as if certain he was wrong. In a moment, the disbelief faded, letting excitement fill its place. “It is! Dude, it’s been ages!”

“Sure has,” Ethan grinned, moving to clap his hand into his old friend’s firm grip. “A good few months, huh? Heard you’re captain now.”

“Yeah, I am, but irrelevant – dude, it’s been so long! I mean, we haven’t seen you since the—“ there it was, the inevitable falter, but Jung covered his cringe with a small smile instead. “I mean, since the big game. How’s the knee?”

Ethan’s expression dimmed, his gaze falling to his knee. Giving an experimental bend, he answered, “Doing better. Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good, that’s, good,” Jung said, before glancing back. “Oh, man, the team’s gotta know you’re here – seriously, cutting off all contact was a bit cruel, don’t you think? – Hey, Michael! Aaron! Get over here!”

Amidst grumbles and complaints, several more youths clamored down the trail, all reacted the same as their team captain. “Ethan?” “What, seriously?” “Dude, where’ve you been?” A barrage of questions was fired his way, and Ethan did his best to shoot answers back. Of course, there was more than one shade of the inevitable, “Why are you here?”

“I’m not sure,” Ethan said, and it was the truth. However, after a moment of thought, he gave a slight chuckle. “Actually, I guess I felt nostalgic.”

It was funny. He had thought this reunion would be heavier, more painful. That was why he had avoided it for so long – drew away from the team once kicked off, led a quieter life – and that was why it didn’t make sense that he wanted to come hiking today. It was the soccer team’s daily training route. Meeting them like this would have been inevitable.

Now that it had happened, though, Ethan gave a soft smile. It wasn’t all too bad after all.

Just then, as if tired of being ignored, the nestling cupped in the youth’s careful hands gave a chirp of protest, followed by more insistent cries of hunger. Suddenly, all eyes were on the bird, and Ethan found himself laughing. “Hey, this ugly guy’s hungry and homesick, so do one of you dimwits mind climbing up for me?” he said, jabbing his thumb towards the nest overhead.

“The only dimwit here is you,” Jung snapped, fondly ruffling his hand through his friend’s hair just the way Ethan hated it. “Man, I missed you. Hey, Michael, mind dropping the little guy off?”

The nestling continued wailing as it changed hands, and it was up the tree in no time. While Michael slid down the tree bark, Jung rattled on and on all about the recent training sessions, schoolwork, the new coach, and Ethan was glad for it. It was almost as if he had never left.

“So, what do you plan to do now?” Jung asked then, catching Ethan off guard. “Gonna head back down?” Right, of course. He couldn’t hold up the training run just for old time’s sakes – that was rude and unfair to the other team members, although Ethan was sure a few would have been more than happy to take a break.

Even still, Ethan knew that if he just went back down, nothing would have changed. There would have been no meaning to waiting with the nestling. Thinking back on it, he realized that maybe he had hoped for this – to meet his old friends on the trail. Maybe that was why he waited. Maybe that was what he hoped for.

And then he remembered what he said to the nestling.

“Nah,” Ethan said, a smile swelling in his voice. “I’ll join your little run.”