Equest: The journey that makes no sense

Equest: The journey that makes no sense (Part One)

Written by Weary_Weirdo

"What the....?"

A boy, about fifteen, the same age as me, stood, fixated on this damn bird, the same supposed 'damned' bird that would make a fine addition to my collection after I wrung its neck. A Cactus Wren, common enough but I had no such luck finding it that year, until now. In fact, I've found barely any birds that year. Did these desert birds suddenly decide the sunny life wasn't for them anymore? Took their Visas and passports and decided to migrate? Whatever social, political or environmental reason that drove them away, one thing's for sure; that was not a good year for bird watchers.

Just look at him! Stroking the wren like I wasn't about to teach this illiterate bird 'How to kill a mockingbird!' (I never read that book). The boy's about fifty feet away! There's no way I could tell him to scat. It'd hear me and I couldn't count on the prey to NOT use its God-given bird-brain and fly away!

"Psst!"

His fingers were laced around the wren's body, where its feathers were most prominent. He seemed careful and wary, afraid to scare it away, as was I when I was planning to kill it. But I think this boy had different intentions, better intentions than mine. But still, I needed that bird. He should've known better, I thought. Don't get in the way of a hunter's footsteps.

"Hey!" I hissed "You, there! Go away!"

He didn't bat an eye in my direction; he was still goggling over his beaked girlfriend. His hands were trembling, as if he just wanted to squeeze the bird, hug it or strangle it I don't know but all I knew is that it was my prey. He had to move.

"Psst! Listen! Get outta my way!"

I could take the shot, I thought. While he was keeping the bird company, he was also keeping him in the perfect place for a headshot, and the boy wouldn't even get a scratch. Like my mama said, always look on the bright side.

"Hey! Final warning!"

The boy stood still, along with the wren.

"Okay, it's your choice..."

Secretly, I was actually quite happy with this arrangement.

I raised my bow, arrow locked in place. I caressed the lower limb of my weapon and gripped. My fingers fit above the fletching and then I pulled.

One breath.

Two breaths and....

My position was ready, the bow ready to obey my movements, ready to kill, but that's when I see the boy's eyes dart to mine and widen with panic. Nature-lover had spotted me and doesn't exactly love my endangering nature.

He grasped onto the wren, with all his might, and dropped to the sandy terrain like a dead camel.

I sighed and quickly packed my unsatisfied arrow into its quiver.

"Animals are stupid enough to be killed by man, and man is stupid enough to save them".

I rushed over to the two love-birds, the bow still firm in my hands, and examined the incident of incredible inconvenience.

This boy, may I remind, was in the grand middle of his teenage years, rolled and bowled around in the shade of the humble Mesquite, clutching his feathered friend to his chest as if it'd hurt if the creature was even a millimetre less away from him. His eyes were tightly drawn and the only sound to be heard was the struggled chirping of the traumatised bird.

"Hey buddy, you wanna get up?" I said, slightly riled. His pained face kept jerking back and forth, along with his body. He wasn't saying a word.

"I'm not going to hurt the damn bird!"