Henrietta
Chickadee had been a Chickadee for as long as she could remember.
She
thought it had been at least four summers since she had left her parent’s nest.
It’s just that she had been so busy since, she had lost track of the time. This
particular late summer morning Henrietta was swooping high above the Maple Tree
in the Shenanigan’s front yard. As she looked downward Rex- the Shenanigan’s
black Labrador, was laying quietly in the shade of the Maple’s huge leafy branches.
A stainless steel bowl of fresh, cool water sat on the grass nearby.
Henrietta
was glad she was a Chickadee and not a pussy cat or a big dog- like Rex. As
she skimmed past the uppermost branches of the tree, she could see Mr. Dungerman
had started to deliver the mail to the households along Beech Street below. It
must be close to nine in the morning what with Mr. Dungerman starting his Beech
Street route and all. She had better head over to Doris Dove’s place right
away.
Doris
had been sitting on that nest of hers for a month- probably almost two, as she
hatched and then nursed her kids. Doris had had two families that summer- one
back in mid-June and now another much later in the summer. Howard- Doris
husband of several years, was a Catholic and it wouldn’t do if he didn’t have
at least four, maybe even six chicks each and every summer. Doris was a good bird
wife and accepted his advances willingly. It wasn’t that bad really. Howard was
an attentive father and helped Doris with the chores and even fed the kids
right alongside his lovely Dove wife.
The
light morning breeze felt refreshing against Henrietta’s little face as she
flew to Doris’s Nest. Henrietta had dropped by the nest the day before- just to
say hi. That was when Doris asked if she would be able to kid-sit for an hour
or so. Doris had been longing to fly down to the park with Howard and sit on
one of the water-washed rocks along the shoreline and just look out at the
water.
Henrietta
was glad to say yes.
Anything
for a feathered friend and Doris was a fine one.
Henrietta
flew quickly to the Ringwald’s house next door and carefully swooping under the
ceiling of the front verandah, she arrived right on Doris’ neststep- right on
time.
“Morning
Doris!”- she chirped.
“Hi
there Girl!”- I’ll be right there. I’m just fluffing my wings.”
“Take
your time Honey”- chirped Henrietta. “I am in no rush. I’ll say hi to the kids.”
Henrietta
was stroking each of the baby dove’s heads just as Doris appeared from the
upper reaches of the nest.
“Well,
how do I look Dear?” Doris fluffed.
“Wonderful!”-
says Henrietta, “And look, don’t worry about a thing. Just have a good time.”
Doris
smiled and wrapped her left wing around Henrietta’s little birdie body.
“What
did I do to deserve you as a friend?”
“Nonsense”-
said Henrietta, blushing just a bit. “Now you run along and have a wonderful
morning. The kids and I will be just fine. Oh. They aren’t leaving the nest
yet- are they?”
Doris
chuckled- “Oh Goodness no but I am hoping by the end of the week. Either they
fly on their own or I’ll shove the little buggers out myself!”
“As
if!”- Henrietta laughed and dropped a small pile of bird poop in the middle of
Doris’ nest.
“Shit!
I’m so sorry. I’ll get that. Where’s your broom and dustpan?”
Doris
pointed towards the kitchen- “It’s behind the pantry door. Listen I’ll leave
you to it. Gotta fly!”
“You
do that and I’ll see you later. Have a great time.” Henrietta disappeared into
the kitchen.
Shoving
off from her front door, Doris swept up from under the edge of the verandah
roof into the morning sun. Soon, she was feeling it’s warm rays dancing off her
wings.
She
set off across Beech Street rising up higher into the air just above the
Peckerman’s front porch. As she did so, she let fly two huge dollops of pure, white
Dove excrement right on the front steps. At about the same time, Mr. Dungerman
was climbing those same steps to deliver the monthly bill from Canadian Tire to
Alice and George Peckerman’s mailbox.
Mr.
Dungerman didn’t see the two huge dollops of poo land on the second rise of the
Peckerman’s front steps. In
a flash of a moment, Mr. Dungerman slipped on the gooey poop, tumbling
backwards into the air, where he landed hard on the cement walkway below. Letters and bills flew everywhere. With the
brute force of the backwards somersault and subsequent landing on the hard stone,
Mr. Dungerman broke his arm and was off work for two months- recuperating.
The
End
