Reincarnation

 

         I don’t recall dying; I just remember that I was suddenly a bird.  After a slight adjustment period, getting used to my legs, feet and wings, and an obvious lack of fingers, I eventually grasped the fact that I had to use my beak for everything.  Not only pecking for food but nest construction as well.  I was wishing I had paid closer attention during my past life to math and general geometry.

 

       Flight was something else altogether.  It was like being on an amusement park ride but no sitting down and no bar going across your lap holding you in.  You were just out there, soaring, making dives and loops.  I loved it.  With outstretched wings I would glide over fields and across the tops of trees.  I wasn’t ready yet, but I tried anyway to zip through and around branches.  Trust me, it takes some skill. When flying through the woods, everything seems to go by so fast, like you’re speeding but you’re not.  It’s just that you are so close to everything that it seems like it.  The most important thing was to look straight ahead and think fast.  When you needed to dodge something there was no time to consider options.

 

       Learning where to be in a windstorm was a high priority.  I had to find a sturdy branch on the right side of a tree and just hang on.  I often closed my eyes and tried to think of something else.  It was the same thing but not as bad for a hard rain.  Just get someplace safe and hold on tight. 

 

Some friends took shelter around store fronts and building overhangs, but I had heard such horror stories about windows that I didn’t want any part of something that was there but that you couldn’t see.  No thanks, no broken necks for me.

 

The one thing that everyone warns you about is the bullies.  Larger birds that wouldn’t hesitate to knock you out of the air just because they can.  Just because you.re not a human anymore don’t think you’ve escaped the morons and idiots.  I guess every species has some stupidity running through it.  (or bird brains, as you call them).

 

I should end this here.  A few other birds have been watching me manipulate this stubby golf pencil across these pages, and I’m sure they’re wondering what I’m doing.  Anyway, whoever finds this, good luck and I promise not to poop on your car.  (I know some enjoy doing that but I’m not one of them).

 

 

Me