The Cockatiel

I sense more than see the light. In the enveloping darkness, I open one eye, and look around. Still pretty dark. No matter. Outside I can hear the free birds starting to chirp their greetings to their family and friends. My neighbors, the lovebirds, and their children, also begin to rouse. I stretch one wing, and then another. Today would be a good to fly. To soar above the trees I see outside the window. I can feel a cool breeze against me, mildly tickling my feathers. But it's not the wind. It's almost continuous, and I have felt this breeze almost four cycles of the moon. I suppose another cycle or two, and the warm breezes will start. But I cannot fly. Not from lack of ability, but because of this cage. I curl and uncurl my toes around my perch. Not much else to do yet. I look in my food dish. Same thing I always have, put their by the big thing that from time to time intrudes into my little world. It gives me water, it gives me food. Sometimes it gives me something new and shiny to play with. Alot of times, the big thing is gone, for most of the day. That is when the little furry thing likes to sit on top of my cage, or the lovebird's cage, purring, and eyeing us hungrily. I have looked out the window, and have seen other little furry things kill the free birds. That which imprisons me also protects me. Thankfully, the big thing seldom lets the little furry thing in the house when it's gone. The big thing also has a big furry thing. Or had. I haven't seen the big furry thing for six cycles of the sun. I liked big furry thing. It left us alone, and once every cycle of the moon, these sirens outside would wail, and big furry thing would sing with the sirens, and I would join it in song. While the big thing sees to it that all my needs are met, I don't trust the big thing

My neighbors, the lovebirds, are a strange lot. But because they outnumber me four to one, I suppose I am The Stranger. I once saw the big thing playing around the box with the funny lights, and heard this music come from the box...."People are strange, when you're a stranger...." I often feel like that. I talk to the lovebirds. Sometimes they will talk to me, but mostly keep to their own kind. I'll sing to them, and often receive sharp rebukes from them. I like it when the big thing is home. Because it will sing with me sometimes.

Sometimes I feel despondent. I sit there. Big thing usually has a mirror in my cage. But I am smarter than to think it is another of my kind. Same food every day. Same water. I watch the love birds cuddle up to each other, both pairs. They look at me like I am different. I look different to them, I talk funny to them. They have someone, I don't. They don't always like or understand what I have to say.

Such is my life. I want to stretch my wings and be free. I want to feel that sense of belonging, that sense of community, the lovebirds have. But I am not like all the other birds, and they and I both know it. I want something different, new, exciting in my life. The same boring food, the same boring water. What is the purpose of all of this? I sigh and look around, as the dawn's light begins to stream through the window. This is how I feel, every day, to quote that song that big thing plays alot from the light box, "...nothing's fine I'm torn, I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel, cold and all alone, lying naked on the floor..."

Outside, the free birds begin their song. The lovebirds begin theirs. I look around. Big thing is still asleep. I make the decision. The same decision I make everyday. It doesn't matter my surroundings. It doesn't matter my condition. My body is trapped in this cage I can never escape. I am different from all those around me. But you know, it doesn't matter. My spirit can never be caged. Inside, I am free, and will always be so till the day I day. I might not be able to fly, but I am able to sing, according to another song big thing likes. Proudly I puff my chest, and burst forth into song. It's my own song, different from all the other birds. They can sing along, if they wish. They can listen contentedly, if that is their desire. They can try to whistle me down, drown my song. I will only sing louder. I can't control what happens by the hands of others around me, but I can control my reaction. I'll sing my own song till the day I die, proud to be me, different from all the others, yet with the same intrinsic value as big thing, big furry thing, little furry thing, the lovebirds, and free birds. And even though my heart may break, and tears stream down my feathered cheeks, I am still alive, I still survive, and wouldn't change who I am inside for the world. Pain will always be a part of life, but nevertheless I'll sing nonetheless. Bursting forth into brilliant song, I sing my heart out till big thing notices, awakes from its slumber, smiles at me in pleasure, and joins in!