The Bluebirds Were Her Friends 1/5
CHAPTER ONE
The giant was up early again. The Bluebirds, who were the giant’s neighbors, grumpily chirped and tweeted. They were tired of the giant’s persistent thundering. Mrs. Bluebird, Bonny, told her husband Mr. Bluebird, who was called Tawny, that she would fly down and scratch out the giant’s eyes. Mr. Bluebird, Tawny, suggested diplomacy. Bonny, the missus, huffed, but when her husband looked away, she let out a relieved tweet. She had not really wanted to get in a fight, but gosh, it was the third time this week. Tawny told her it was time he got to know their large, noisy, neighbor.
Tawny hopped onto the edge of their nest. It took two tries, but he was unashamed.
He whistled to his wife, “Goodbye, my love.”
Mr. Bluebird tipped forward, fell from the nest, flapped his wings twice, and glided away, trailing a song. He fluttered past the giant, who ignored him. But when Tawny circled back, the giant stared straight at him. He swooped to avoid a collision and flew back to his nest. Mr. Bluebird was not proud of his panic, but he was proud he had tried. After all, the giant was huge, and he was just a little bird. He had royal blue feathers on his wings, bright yellow feathers on his chest, and a heart that beat as hard as any creature’s. But Tawny knew going home was the right decision.
Mr. Bluebird landed imperfectly in the nest, which was fine, and twittered to his wife that he had tried to face the giant but fled when it flashed its teeth and raised a hand. Tawny shivered, his feathers puffing out. He chirped and settled before closing his eyes. Discretion was the better part of courage, he told Mrs. Bluebird. After she cuddled safely against him, Bonny agreed.
CHAPTER TWO
The giant, it turned out, was friendly. It enjoyed picking vegetables from the garden in front of its cave. One day, the giant saw the Bluebirds huddled in their nest and stomped toward them. Tawny and Bonny huddled together for safety. When the giant reached for them, they closed their eyes. Nothing happened. When they opened their eyes, a fat white grub inched along the edge of their nest. Mrs. Bluebird hopped away from her husband, lunged at the bug, and swallowed it in three big gulps. Mrs. Bluebird felt voracious. Tawny swayed with quiet pride at her ferocity. The giant placed another grub in front of Tawny. He pounced on it, held it down with both feet, and tore into it with his beak. He looked at his wife, her face feathers coated in green ichor.
“What a glorious day!”
When the Bluebirds tried to show their appreciation, the giant was already gone. They heard the cave door slam and heard it thrashing inside. Neither bird wanted to imagine the horrors of that mysterious place. Three giants had once lived there, but now only the youngest and smallest remained. The Bluebirds shuddered to think of the battle that must have ensued. The little giant was surely a monster to be reckoned with. Tawny had to admit, however, that the monster had a good eye for grubs.
Later that day, the giant—the smallest of the three but grown taller since the others disappeared—left its cave and walked past the Bluebirds. Tawny and Bonny chirped out a happy good morning, and to their dismay, the giant stopped and came back to them. Bonny thought of flying off but saw that Tawny had already closed his eyes and lowered his blue-feathered crown so the giant could—Bonny gulped in horror—pet him. The giant noticed and tapped Tawny on his head two times, gently, before it bellowed something and left.
Had he lost his mind, she whistled.
If he had, he chirped, it was a good thing he had.
How so, Bonny wanted to know.
It could be useful, Tawny said, to have a giant on their side.
Bonny remembered the snake that slithered around the house, flicking its long, forked tongue—the one that claimed it had nothing to do with the disappearance of her eggs, though the Bluebirds did not believe it for a second. Maybe Tawny was right. Maybe they needed a large friend. Bonny pecked her husband on the cheek. He had been very brave.
CHAPTER THREE
The giant returned days later, carrying dead rabbits and fish. It greeted them playfully, before returning to its cave and closing the door. Most days the giant left its cave and returned home with food, but for almost a week after returning with rabbits and fish, it stayed home. The cave’s chimney emitted smoke that smelled of cooked meat, and at night the giant filled its cave with strange sounds the birds had never heard before.
Mrs. Bluebird was bothered. She wondered if their neighbor was well, and suggested Mr. Bluebird go and see. Mr. Bluebird, who for days had been reimagining his heroic moment from the previous week, jumped onto the nest’s rim. He looked toward the cave’s entrance but could not see it, because it lay around a corner in the shadow of the overhanging roof. Perfect. Now he knew where he was going. That knowledge was valuable.
He hopped back into the nest and told Mrs. Bluebird that he had scouted the path ahead. In the morning—the following morning—he would venture out of the nest to check on the giant. Perhaps it was injured. Perhaps months of solitude had caught up to it. Tawny knew that loneliness could weigh heavily on anyone’s mind. He had a cousin, a good bird but a little strange, who was bullied for being “different.” One day the cousin lost control and started pecking anyone who came close. Luckily, nobody had been badly injured, but from that day forward everyone called his cousin cuckoo.
Tawny shuddered and pulled his head down into his neck feathers. He hoped the giant would feel better by morning.
