Collection of Essays

Chicks

Yesterday, my not-so-little brother brought in two chicks from school. No, they weren't those kind of girls and it would served him well not to bring one in the future (let alone two!).

Anyway, so these were two little chick peas, brothers maybe. One retained its natural color while the other was sporting red. I had no idea how this modus works but rest assured I despised it.

He probably hid them inside his bag because we were all unsuspecting. Until I went up and saw him cutting out my SM paper bag, without my permission  of course, and made them an improvised habitat.

Asked why he brought some random creatures, he just exercised his right against self-incrimination. Before this, my other little brother brought in two spiders and was spared from explaining. He probably figured out, "Well, why must I?"

I told him to bring this matter to his father since poultry stuff were his thing. Or maybe it was just me not wanting the room to smell like chicken sh!t and not wanting to hear some chicken noise.

But chickens were not dogs. Aside from the obvious reason, they're just not good at following instructions. They defied my spiels.

If you're like, "Hey, beaks! Zip 'em!" they'd do the opposite. I didn't get it. They were even fed twice so why the chatter?

Pretty much annoyed, I walked towards these earthlings not knowing exactly what to do. Perhaps a diplomatic talk or a fast talk interview. Just about anything to bring peace and harmony at least to my world.

When my knees touched the floor however, came these chicklits running after me. No, not like the men of 300 B.C. but more like Peter when he missed Wendy.

They weren't a bit scared. If anything, I was the one who was scared, fearing they'd peck my skin until the bones on my fingers were exposed.

And they did. But it wasn't so scary. The peck was too weak, after all. Either that or they just wanted to point out how thick my skin was.

And if ever they were right (which they weren't), why was their action softened my heart? Why, they rushed towards me and brushed their tiny bodies against my palm. And just like that, they doze off.

They liked to be petted on their heads and they obviously liked my warmth.  And so I caught them in my hands and pressed them even more, as light as a feather. At least now I could ascertain species, aside from humans, knew I ain't a cold hearted b!tch.

But of course, stroking them repeatedly made my legs numb and trigerred my low-key O.C.D. And while I was on it, I had an epiphany, an unpopular opinion:

My little action may mean nothing to me but to somebody, it may be. And if it meant nothing to them, that's okay. I would just remind myself that there was once a time I put two random birds to sleep.