CRUMBS [a short novella]

Chapter 6: tortilla

"Look at that building! Can you see that bird on the ledge? It looks like you Seto!" Parker would squeal enthusiastically as he pointed the tip of his wing to the sky. Then like clockwork, Seto would spin around and forcibly squint to make out a figure.

This was Parker's way of distracting Seto. He wanted to rummage through the garbage in search of yesterday's newspaper, without having her ask too many questions about it.

"I don't see anything", Seto would say as Parker shuffled through apple cores, coffee cups, and unfinished vegetable juicer drinks. No yesterday's paper in sight. It was 0 for 12 now, in the search for yesterday's New York Times headliner.

As Parker scavenged for yesterday's paper, he was learning more about Seto along the way. She likes to eat bugs and doesn't care for starchy things. Her hobbies include building beds in high up trees and singing repetitive songs. Though she can sometimes be shy, she really has the most beautiful voice Parker has ever heard.

Ok, maybe there was something in the New York City air. Parker was falling for Seto. In a weird kind of way. Seto looked at Parker like he was one in a million because to her, Parker was an exotic bird she hadn't seen before. Between all the pigeons and people in New York City, Parker hasn't felt this special in a very long time.

Yet Parker didn't want to become blind sighted by infatuation. There were still some mysteries about Seto that Parker couldn't shake from his mind. Latest Seto peculiarity came to Parker's attention when they bumped into his flightless friend Pedro, on the corner of Broadway and 31st Street.

"HOLA SETO!" Pedro exclaimed, "What a pleasure meeting such a bundle of sunshine like you". He trailed off his sentence with a charming wink. This significantly ruffled Parker's feathers. Any more comments like those and Parker was ready to hit Pedro over his feathery head with a tablet copy of a newspaper.

"Encantada! Gracias por ayudarnos con las direcciones" chirped Seto. To which Parker and Pedro looked dumbfounded and confused.

The girl doesn't even know what a tortilla is, but she speaks Spanish? Parker only knew Spanish words relating to food options in the city, and the only Spanish thing about Pedro was his name (thus his determination to greet birds with "Hola" and "Gracias").

No one had a clue what Seto really said. Pedro felt too embarrassed to ask, and Parker felt too afraid to find out.

Parting ways with Pedro, the pair made their way further along Broadway. Parker continued to distract Seto every time he saw a garbage bin. If Seto didn't turn out to be a serial killer (or a Spanish Spy), then he wouldn't want her to think that he was a weirdo who rummages through garbage.

"Parker...What are you doing?" Seto asked with hesitation at the 28th garbage bin. "Yuck! It smells horrible in there!" she announced to Parker.

Think fast Parker, think fast. He thought to himself, standing frozen with a newspaper jammed in his beak and Ramen noodles slowly slipping off his wings.

"Well...um...this newspaper...uh...well it's in the garbage."

Seto raised a feathery brow, as she waited hopefully for an explanation.

"But newspapers are...well, recyclable. So it needs to be placed in the recycling bin to ... you know ... save the forest?"

He sounded unsure of himself, but Seto hadn't noticed. Her eyes glistened at the word forest. She really missed seeing trees.

"I'm glad you care about the forests Parker. I wish the humans did. I remember that my home was in the forests. Now finding a place to call home is difficult."

Parker felt slightly ashamed. First, he used recycling as an excuse for his suspicions about her. Second, he was too bird-brained to realize that a recycling box was probably a much better place than a garbage bin to look for newspapers.

After Parker nibbled out the symbol for recycling from around flour tortilla (to the horror of passing tourists who had just watched dancing cats prance across a Broadway stage), Seto leaped for joy when she spotted it a few feet away.

There it was. A recycling box in all its environmental glory. Parker crawled right in with the newspaper in his beak and placed the paper safely inside to be reprocessed again. But before leaving, he hung around a bit just to make sure the paper he was looking for wasn't there.

Coffee cups, coffee cups, coffee cups. Ah, newspaper! It was the right one. Parker flapped his wings, almost sending him into flight, and pulled the paper out of the recycling bin.

With only a few wrinkles and one frothy caramel macchiato stain along the side, Parker read out the headline of the New York Times.

Cerulean Warbler: Endangered and Needing Migratory Safety.