I sit here at the park with my binoculars. Yes that’s right. Binoculars. I am into bird watching, probably because of Reddington from The Blacklist or that sniper from The Day of Jackal. It’s a cool hobby this one, only that I know literally nothing about birds. I don’t know their names, their characteristics, just that they are cool to watch.
I have decided to watch their patterns instead, some birds follow a profound routine, and if it takes me more than an hour to locate her, then something is not right. I also name them human names based on their mannerisms, and then I write a journal for each of them based on what I think they’re feeling that day. Sometimes, when I feel like it and I have the resources, I pass by the local grains store and get some grains to feed the friendly birds.
Birds are strange creatures, no scratch that, more like amazing creatures. They symbolize new beginnings, peace, simplicity, and love. I have noticed and learned a few things about birds, but most of all, Metis taught me the most. In simple words, she saved me.
I started bird watching when I lost my job and my girlfriend had decided that she deserved better, which she did, and left me. I am a spendthrift by nature so it goes without saying that I didn’t have anything saved up for the rainy days. The little I had I blew it all in strip clubs, then bars, then liquor dens which were more known for their filth other than their liquor, but I had to indulge, and so I did. When all was said and done, I went to live with my mum, but she is kind of a bitch so that didn’t last long.
One day, while returning from yet another rejected interview, I decided to take a stroll by the park, as I thought maybe I’d meet some of my corporate friends there who could sponsor my liquor for the day. It was around 4pm, so there weren’t many people, and most of the benches were empty. All I could see were these people dressed in long overcoats carrying briefcases like in those FBI films. I laughed at the thought, the only genuine laughter I’d had in months.
One of them, with a grey overcoat, sat at a bench at the far end of the park and I decided to emulate the cat and see where it leads. The bench was meant for four people, and the mystery man was seated at the far end so I sat at the other far end, leaving spaces for two people between us.
The man lit a cigarette, looking at the sky while blowing the smoke, and for some reason, he actually looked cool doing it. He opened his briefcase, and a cold shiver ran down my spine because of the myriad of possibilities that the briefcase could unleash. He pulled out a black equipment, and I immediately recognized it. A pair of binoculars. I instantly thought that he resembled those FBI guys that I had likened him to earlier. He pulled out a note book and a pencil and he started writing some things on it. He alternated between observing and scribbling on the pad, and that piqued my interest.
“What are you watching?” I gathered my courage and asked.
He just looked at me and then scribbled something down, then continued watching.
I just kept watching him, it’s not like I was in any hurry.
“Birds. Did you know that every time I use my pair of binoculars to watch them I see a new species of them?” The man said, putting the pair of binoculars down and lighting another cigarette.
“I don’t know. Why do you watch birds, of all animals? One would have thought watching humans would be far more beneficial.”
“God, if I had a penny for every time someone asked me that question.”
“You’d have been rich?” I genuinely wanted to know, shifting my attention towards him.
“Hell no! Nobody has ever asked me that question. Which makes me curious, you seem smart. Why do you look like that?”
I was wearing my best suit so I was kind of surprised at his sentiment, but playing nice is always the smartest play.
“Life happens, I guess.”
“Smart answer.”
He continued smoking his cigarette in silence, perusing through his note pad, and I noticed that his cursive handwriting was pretty pleasant. He was also older, perhaps in his fifties, his outfit was expensive, to say the least, and he seemed very kept-to-himself.
“Why don’t you try? Could fit you.” He said tossing me the pair of binoculars. I caught it and looked. I was fascinated at how large and clear it made people appear.
“Focus on the birds, not the people.” He told me.
He got up, closed his briefcase, buttoned his suit and started leaving.
“Your equipment, sir!” I shouted.
“Why don’t you hold it for me? Oh, and because birds don’t wear makeup.”
“What?”
“Answer to your question.”
And then he left.
I saw Metis at the same bench where I met the mystery man. She had the most beautiful feathers I’d ever seen, and she was so tiny. She was scraping at the pavements for food in a way that was different from other birds. She had that ‘now or never’ attitude. I felt for her, so I reached out to my backpack and broke two slices of bread into smaller particles and threw them to her. She didn’t even suspect of any sinister motive behind my kindness, meaning she was either used to such kindness or she was out of options.
She took a small chunk that her feeble frame could carry and flew away. After a few minutes, she was back with two other fledglings, and one was way smaller. Despite its tiny frame, she had the resolve and tenacity of a goddess, and that’s why I named her Athena, and by default, her mother became Metis.
I gladly took the responsibility of carrying two slices of bread with me everyday for months, then two were no longer enough, so I had to bring three. I don’t quite remember well enough the details but one day, Metis was all alone. I instantly knew that Athena and her brother had decided to fend for themselves, and I understood Metis’ pain. But she kept on with her routine like nothing happened.
I had to reduce the slices to one then. Shortly afterwards, they were two again because Metis brought a visitor with her, probably the new father of the next nestlings, or perhaps he was still Athena’s father. I especially liked how Metis observed our routine, it was like we were poetry, because our flow was poetic, and yet we didn’t even speak to each other than the ocassional glances that were worth a billion different words. I learned a few things from her. She reminded me of my mother who had to fend for my siblings and I by herself with the help of a few ratchet individuals because she sold illegal liquor to make ends meet. It doesn’t matter if a man has class or not as long as his deeds make the world a better place, even by an inch.
Comments
Post a Comment