M. R. Hyde
ROBIN
Rudy
arrived in the spring. This was his fourth spring. He felt a little weary and
worn and longed for a good rest. He was glad it was near sunset. Tomorrow, yes
tomorrow would be a good day—he just knew it. He
sidled into a giant Ponderosa pine, hoping he would not take up an other's
space. He would settle in more tomorrow, but for now he just needed to rest.
"Oh,
excuse me!" A quick exclamation arrested him as an equally weary old
neighbor shuffled in.
"'Sat
you Rudy?"
"Yeah.
Yeah." Rudy could barely reply as he blinked very slowly. "'Sat you,
Bud?"
"Yeah.
G'night, Rudy."
"Goodnight,
Bud."
The
two fell into a deep slumber, unaware of the other visitors stumbling weakly
onto their commandeered perches. Everyone made room.
Rudy
woke to a morning ruckus. Birds everywhere were scrambling over each other,
dodging short and long talons, and some were very nearly screaming. Rudy
twitched his head to knock the sleep out and then heard the word—the word that
could make any traveler lose his ever loving-mind – Moths! A small sparrow
dashed in among the branches. "Moths! Great gobs of moths!" There was
a rather hysterical look in its eye.
Rudy
had been raised right. So trying desperately not to be rude or harm anyone, he
scuttled as quickly as he could to the end of the limb. But the raging hunger
he felt nearly drove him to distraction. He could hear his mother's sweet
voice. "Take your time, Rudy. There's always enough for everyone." He
closed his eyes briefly and took a deep, cleansing breath.
"Ruthy!"
A muffled and urgent voice compelled him to open his eyes. "You gotha geth outh there!" Bud
was trying to talk with the tattered edge of a moth wing sticking out of his
beak. He clapped his beak several more times and then swallowed hard.
"Rudy,
I've never seen anything like it!" Tears were in Bud's eyes, tears of
absolute joy.
With
as much reserve as he could muster, Rudy spoke carefully to his friend.
"Okay, okay. I'm coming." But as calm as he was on the exterior,
Rudy's heart was leaping up into his throat. Bud dashed away and a panorama of
splendor opened up before Rudy. The air felt alive with movement—erratic,
chaotic movement. Moths covered tree trunks, windows, roofs, sidewalks and
streets. Some were fluttering madly without compasses. Some were bouncing off
of cars and buildings. Kamikaze moths careened to their deaths in mad lunacy. It
was unbelievable!
Rudy
mumbled in awe, "Mama told me about this." Then with a kind of
madness he would not soon forget, he plunged into the feast. No one cared much
of wings clipped or feet brushing backs or bodies spiraling through the air.
There were moths—gobs and gobs of moths!
Suddenly
the long migration seemed like a distant dream. Suddenly the weariness of bone transformed
into explosive energy toward consuming as many moths as he could. Be gone his
mother's soft voice! This was a feast!
The
next few hours were lost to Rudy. Later he could not remember the balance of that
day. He felt a great discomfort about
his middle. When he glanced down, he could see his distended redbreast and he
groaned with put-upon shame. His signature dip-step-step-up had been replaced
with a tip-waddle-waddle-waddle. This should have alarmed him, except that his
response time was slowed by the influence of gluttony. His mother's more urgent
and alarmed voice finally came to him again. "Beware the cats of
spring!" Rudy took three lumbering steps and then beat his wings into
flight. He landed solidly on the next to
the lowest branch in the nearest tree.
Rudy
woke in the middle of the night with the wind and rain and hail lashing at the
tree. He clenched his feet tighter around the branch and took a deep contented
breath. A huge grin would have spread across his face if he could grin like the
humans. He knew in the morning there would be another ruckus and some wild-eyed
sparrow would dash into the trees screaming "Worms!"
M.R. Hyde
Copyright 2019
