In The Trees

Freedom is the way to go

I made the picture, but I am only used to drawing tiny, chonky bords, so it's not the best

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   I wake up to a tickling on my face, a sensation that was all too familiar. I shriek and swipe the spider off of me. I sit up, expecting to see my room and Australia doubling over out of laughter, like I have seen before. As you would expect, I see the inside of the blue and white tent. I sigh and quickly make my way out of the tent, eyeing the spider suspiciously. I get up and lower my food rations that have been strung up. I take a slice of bread and set up the pot. I then toast the bred with the fireplace, careful not to burn it. 

   I take a bite of the toast and close my eyes, wanting to soak in and appreciate the forest. I hear the soft sound of the rushing river and the chirping birds. I listen to the sweet melody that the sounds together make. I then hear a sound that covers them all. It's another chirp, but it's distressed. 

   I grab another slice of bread and stuff the toast in my mouth. I then go and follow the sound. I walk around for a few seconds before I find a large, beautiful bald eagle. The bird was hopping along the ground and it's wing was bent weirdly. I bend down and tear off a piece of bread and throw it to the injured bird. The bird hops forward and graciously takes it,

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. I can help you." I say, inching forward towards the eagle and hoping that Aussie's way with animals rubbed off on me. The bald eagle hops forward as well, and I hold out my arm for it jump on. The eagle carefully uses it's beak to pull itself onto my arm. It's talons dig into my arm a bit, but I ignore the slight pain. I decided that due to the fact the bird is larger than normal birds of this particular species that it's a female. I bring her back to my camp and set her down on a low perch like branch.

  I look up how to care for a bird with a broken wing. I find that I'm supposed to cut the toe of a sock off and put it on the bird, leaving it's head out of the sock. I look over at the eagle, who is still analyzing me. I shake my head,

"I would need a big ass sock" I say to myself and turn my phone off and stick it in my pocket. Time for some improvising.  

"I'll grab some bandages. I'll be right back," I say, and turn to leave but turn back around, "Also, I'm going to call you Grace, for your beauty and well, grace." I smile and leave to grab the bandages. I hear Grace make a kind of high pitched almost giggling kind of sound. I laugh,

"I had no idea that this is what a bald eagle sounds like" Grace makes the sound again and I laugh. I unravel the bandages and wrap them carefully around the bird's wing. Grace stares at me with her piercing, large yellow eyes. I stare uncomfortably at her dangerously sharp beak and hope that we are really as good friends as I thought. I continue fixing up her wing with the bandages and step back to look at my creation. I realize how overdone her wing is wrapped and I take some of it off, just so it properly splints her wing and keeps it pinned to her body. I can't help but wonder what happened to her. She must've fallen out of a tree or ran into one at that. I lean back on the tree, the branch Grace is on almost aligning with my shoulders. I look over at my new feathery friend,

"Care to explain how you got hurt? I could use a story," Grace makes a kind of weak screaming sound, as though it was in response to my question. I laugh,

"I will take that as you won't tell me," I say and inch my hand towards Grace's head to rub it, like I've done thousands of time with New Zealand's kiwi bird, Kate. Kate is the reason New Zealand got her nickname of Kiwi. I swear she loves that bird more than her own siblings. Grace proves her name worthy of her and gracefully bows down as though to allow me to pet her. I rub her head, and she closes her eyes and seems to like the pets. I smile and continue to rub her head, from the top of her beak and down to the base of her neck. 

   After a minute, Grace screeches and I know I am finished petting her. I tell her I will be back and I go to search the backpack Canada gave me for anything that might be of use to me for today. I find something Canada didn't mention when listing off the items in the bag. I pull it out and find that it's two items, held together by string. A hatchet and a bottle of maple syrup. A note is also attached. I smile at the bundle then take the note out, careful not to rip it. The note says, 'don't forget me please! -'Nada' I smile sadly and feel an ache at the back of my throat. I ignore the ache and set the note down by the head of my sleeping back. 

   I grab the metal container, leave the tent, and grab another two slices of bread from my rations to feed it to Grace. I walk back to the branch and crumple the slices into the container. I set it by Grace and she happily pecks at the bread. I chuckle and grab the MP3 player 'Nada packed for me. I stick one earbud in my ear and leave the other one hanging. I put on a playlist of my favorite songs and put the player in my pocket. The first song that comes on is "Black Bird" by the Beatles. Ah, the Beatles, one of the greatest things my father gave to me. I find it amusing that this song plays as I take care of a bird with a broken wing. 

   As I listen to the music, I gather sticks to make Grace a makeshift nest. A friendly gesture, for her not pecking my eyes out and bringing me company. Maybe even a peace offering. She becomes a symbol of my newfound freedom, and I make her a nest and take care of her broken wing. I read that it would take her a week to heal, so I might as well bring her comfort.

   I ponder for a quick second and then decide that she would be safer from creatures like wolves in my tent. I move the mess of a nest into my tent and I walk towards the river with my empty water bottle in hand. I dip the hydro flask into the water and pray that the water is fresh. I wait a second for the bottle to fill up and then bring the bottle to my lips. To my pleasure, the water is not terrible, and it's cold. I dance back to the branch where Grace is, to the sweet tune to the song, "In the Summertime" by Mungo Jerry. I get to Grace and fill her empty container with water, to which she happily slurps it up. I nod my head to the beat of the tropical sounding music as it fades into the next song. 

   To my own luck, "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond starts playing and I squeal and yell, "yes!", which startles grace and she looks up at me.

   At the phrase "hands, touching hands," I reach out to Grace and sing along with the music. Grace looks annoyed and makes the giggling screaming kind of sound as she did before, to which I decide she is trying to drown out my terrible singing, as I have heard Australia do before. I smile at the memory of dancing in the kitchen, the sound of my music and singing, and the sound of Australia yelling at me drowning the rest of everything out. I laugh at the memory and retract my arm from Grace and she attempts to peck at me. 

   I close my eyes spin around and around, taking in the sun, and the music, and the happy, joyous atmosphere. Besides Grace's angst that killed the mood if I got too close. I guess freedom was the way to go.

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words: 1434