Writing for Fun
January 2015
Life Is . . . Memories - Jan Osborne
The north wind blew cruelly across the garden and through the tree that I was taking shelter in. That the tree was adorned with a myriad tiny coloured lights and near the house worried me not. It was that season again. I tried to hunker down even further onto the slim, leafless branch. Gripping as hard as I could with my now swollen arthritic feet I dug in my claws to avoid being prematurely dislodged from my post. Death would do that soon enough.
Plumping out my feathers in an effort to retain the last vestiges of body heat I tucked my tiny black beak into my fluffed up red breast. Closing my rheumy eyes and trying to ignore the pain in my chest I drifted down memory lane. Long ago, as a young and, if I may say so myself, a rather dashing male robin, I had claimed this garden and the woods beyond as my territory, which I defended fiercely against all comers. This prowess and the building of a rather magnificent nest earned me many admirers of the opposite sex but one feisty young female caught my eye and became my soul mate. Year after blissful year we successfully raised broods and saw them leave home to start their own lives until that fateful day a few years back. She had flown off to hunt for food leaving me to finish incubating our three eggs which had just started to crack. She had never returned.
Frantic I made a quick tour of our territory and found her mangled body under a bush. She had died bravely defending our patch and our family to be. I remember the feeling of sick desperation. How was I going to find enough food to successfully raise three chicks? I could not let her down. Pride alone made me vow to succeed.
I must confess I do not think I could have done it without the help of the human from the house. He had taken a great interest in our well being and had seemed to enjoy the precious moments each year when we brought our fledglings to the bird table. Extra food was always available.
That terrible year he had found the body of my mate and buried her with dignity. Guessing my plight he had put out endless supplies of meal worms and other tasty morsels until that brood made it as well to the bird table and beyond.
Water squeezed from under my closed eyelids. I was unbearably sad that this wonderful life was drawing to a close. Pain suddenly racked my body and although I craved not for food I had a raging thirst that was almost unbearable. To make things even worse, off to the right, I could hear the unmistakable taunts of a young male eying my territory. He knew it would be his soon. He had no need to challenge me to a fight. I felt very alone and very sorry for myself.
Then a familiar voice rang out. 'Merry Christmas, Robbie'. My eyes snapped open and I saw my human standing by the bird table. He was wearing a paper crown, smiling foolishly and brandishing a large glass of clear liquid. Was that water? Oh, it had to be water. Throwing caution to the wind I launched myself at the feeder and landed safely, although somewhat ungracefully. He had taken a large gulp of the drink and placed it on the rough wooden tray. Eying my unkempt appearance and drooping stance he looked troubled. Frowning he said 'Hey, you don't look so good today Robbie. Feeling your years?' You and I both old son he thought.
I only had eyes for the glass. Summoning all the energy I had I walked over to the glass and pecked futilely at its shiny surface trying to reach its contents. My human stopped his bantering and looked at me thoughtfully. 'My, you must have a thirst on if you want some of this gin and tonic. But somehow I think that this might be what you really need. You don't look long for this world.' Without another word he poured some drink into the shallow water dish and waited.
I rushed forward and took three huge beakfuls before it hit the back of my throat. I reeled back in alarm and started to sneeze violently. Gaping widely as the gas built up in my gullet I tried to force the wind out of my mouth. Suddenly it exploded out; not of my mouth but the other end. The force of the blast sent me tottering forward leaving a large dobbie in my wake and tears in my eyes. I hiccupped.
Shutting my eyes tightly to squeeze out the water and hiccupping again I thought, wow! I might be dying but I was not going to let death creep up on me. I would go out fighting. Literally if needs be. That cocky youngster in the tree yonder was not getting my patch without a fight.
Eying my enemy I was surprised to see that he was now one of three robins sitting side by side. Taking a deep breath I hurled myself skyward and flew at the middle one of the three birds, screaming insults. My impact with the tree dropped me, like a stone, to the ground below.
My human scooped up my broken body and held me in the blessed warmth of his palm. I felt this world slip away and saw, to my joy, my beloved partner standing in a haze of white light. She cocked her head in that special way and I rushed to join her.
My human gazed down at me as my eyes started to dim. The eyelid of one of my eyes slowly closed before the other lid joined it in the last few moments of my life. A wink? He always thought so.
