Birds-eye

Birds-eye, pt. 15

I haven't seen her since. In fact, I don't go out into human territory at all. Quackajack Pond has regained its impertubality. I never go there anymore. Even the memory of its smell makes me sick.
Instead, I stay near the river's edge. Somehow, it sooths me. With it come smells and sounds unimaginable. I find I can enter an unfamiliar world without even having to leave my branche. The river takes it right to my doorstep. So, yes, in a way, I have learned my lesson.

The females have settled down on the other shore or so I've been told. I haven't gone out to see them. Somehow, I feel this tale of mine is not one to tell the gentler sex, let alone young hatchlings. I don't think I'll be building a nest this time. I try to avoid other birds best I can. Mostly, I camp up in this tree. It has grown to be right a giant. Best of all is sitting in the highest of its branches, so you can see both the grey of the river and the blue of the sky. One thing hasn't changed. I can't keep silent. It starts when the sun sets and life is quieting down. That's when I know I must sing out. 'Help me get rid of the body. Get rid of the body.' What can I say? I'm a mockingbird. It's in my nature, is all.

That's all folks.

Previous parts:
Birds-eye, part 1
Birds-eye, part 2
Birds-eye, part 3
Birds-eye, part 4
Birds-eye, part 5
Birds-eye, part 6
Birds-eye, part 7
Birds-eye, part 8
Birds-eye, part 9
Birds-eye, part 10
Birds-eye, part 11
Birds-eye, part 12
Birds-eye, part 13
Birds-eye, part 14