BIRD LESSONS
by
Noah Letner
Bird Lessons
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2015 Noah Letner
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2440-8
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
ONE
My enemy continues the relentless assault on my nerves. How could one lone bird make so much noise? The Mockingbird has mastered the art of torture, depriving me of sleep for the past three weeks. Why?
How much longer can I endure such torment? There are laws, I can’t just kill the bird. Would I? Maybe. Anyone having suffered through weeks of Mockingbird torment would understand my plight and forgive my transgression. Alas, I’m not the killer type.
A few attempts at ridding myself of the pest failed miserably. I lassoed the maple tree as high as possible up the trunk for leverage and pulled with all my might to shake the tree. Apparently, he just found that annoying and escalated the noise level. Another evening I used the water hose and nearly drown the poor tree. I’ve tried earplugs and running a fan to drown out the lonesome crooner.
I must admit that I admire his vocal range of whistles, tweets, trills and rasps. The night medley consists of phrases averaging 20 seconds or so and repeated from two to six times.
The brutal bird must be exhausted and finally stops to rest. Another hour passes and the Redbird starts his pre-dawn song and I begin another day that feels like the same day, again. Stepping out on the balcony to greet the morning bird, the night bird remains hidden from sight avoiding my wrath.
“Good morning. At least you know when to sleep and when to sing.”
“Wake up! Stop loafing and get moving!” I know this is what the Redbird says. He says it every morning. He keeps saying it until I leave for work. First, I would need sleep in order to wake up.
“You’ve been sleeping for most of your life,” said a voice in my head different from my own.
Sleeping? What are you talking about? I haven’t slept in weeks because of that confounded bird.
“Did you just answer me?”
“Answer who?” I snapped.
“You did!” the voice exclaimed.
What? No. That’s just me talking to myself, I insisted.
“You heard me and you are responding. This is a conversation.” It appeared that the bird was speaking in my mind.
I’m not just talking to myself but answering, too. This could be worrisome.
“You don’t have the answers, but we do,” it chirped loudly.
“Great, now I’m hearing voices,” I moaned.
“You lost your voice a long time ago. That’s why we’re here.”
You need to be quiet, I yelled in my head. People require sleep for good health and in order to function properly in the world. Three weeks with very little sleep has obviously taken a toll on my senses.
*******
Sleepwalking through work, it dawned on me that many years ago I took a nap on the job thinking I would just rest here for awhile, then move on to bigger and better things, instead I fell asleep and never woke up. Ironic that now I can’t get a good nights rest. I seem to have the entire sleep process backwards. Does that make sense? I’m tired.
Work was a bit more challenging than usual, I made numerous mistakes. It was hard to concentrate. All I could think about was hurrying home and getting to bed before the Mockingbird started the nightly barrage of birdsongs.
*******
Hurrying home and trying to nap was a failed attempt, my mind refused to stop thinking about the bird voice and now my nemesis has awakened.
“I never stop learning new songs,” chirped an excited voice. “I am a bachelor and will continue to sing outside your window until I meet my mate.”
“I hope you meet her soon,” I grumbled.
“When I find my one true song, then she will come and we will fly away together.”
“Well hurry up then and be gone.” I covered my ears with a pillow as if that would muffle the voice inside my mind. How is he doing this? It’s impossible. Maybe I should see a doctor and get some sleeping pills. Laying in bed awake all night under the duress of sleep deprivation makes one think too much -- crazy thoughts -- and apparently hear voices.
TWO
The Redbird greeted me this morning. “Wake up! Cheer cheer cheer. It’ s a beautiful day to sing!”
My coworkers are talking behind my back. Comments like -- “looks terrible -- needs sleep -- can’t do the job -- drinks too much -- personal problems,” among other more derogatory descriptions I’m sure. I made a big mistake today, it cost other staff extra work. I said I was sick and left early.
I went to a nice little park for a walk to help clear my mind. The sound of the gently flowing stream calms my nerves. Maybe I should get a sound machine that plays running water, it might drown out the Mockingbird.
Sitting on a rock on the riverbank and almost enjoying the fine summer day, to my surprise a large bird I thought was a Crane gently landed in the middle of the shallow river.
“I am a Great Blue Heron standing three feet tall; my wingspan is about six feet; and I only weigh five pounds, thanks to my hollow bones. Did you know all birds have hollow bones?”
“Not again,” I groaned. The big bird stood perfectly still.
“The hollow bones help us to fly. Aye, but you have not wings, sad indeed.” The voice sounded sincere.
I pondered what it would feel like to fly, floating on the air completely free to travel wherever desired and soar above my petty problems.
“Before you try flying, I suggest you go back to the songbirds and first learn to sing.” The Heron flapped its wings and with a loud splash quickly took flight.
I wonder how they understand what I’m thinking? It could be some form of telepathy, but when I speak aloud they also understand my words. Then again, words are thoughts said aloud. What madness has obscured my sense of reality? Maybe, I’m dreaming that I cannot sleep and that I can talk with birds. If not that, my mental health is in jeopardy. Walking through the park a while longer there were many birds tweeting and chirping, but thankfully none spoke to me.
*******
As dusk crept across the sky I sat on the balcony staring at the glass of wine in my hand. One reaches a point in the delirium of sleep deprivation where any attempt at slumber is but futile. But try I did, seeking the remedy in the grape.
The crested, black masked Redbird is perched on the outstretched branch of the maple, the handsome bird chirps loudly with determination.
“What are you saying little bird?”
“I’m calling for my mate to come home. I’m a little concerned that she has yet to return,” he tweeted. I say tweeted because that’s what birds are supposed to do and not speak intelligibly in one’s mind.
The Redbird continued calling out to the darkening sky for some time before his pretty partner finally returned