The Cacophany

The Cacophony

Ambrose watched his wife run out of the house with a broom. He strolled after her to see her shoo at the birds on the field. Danny ran out after his mother, saw what she was doing and the playfulness disappeared from his eyes. Martine knocked one dead. The boy cringed at the absolute thud of the bird on the ground and ran back into the house.
         Martine straightened as Ambrose approached. He tapped the bird with his toe; small and brown with a stubby beak, dead. ‘Cunning as spies,’ Martine said.
         ‘Birds?’
         ‘They eat all the grain.’
         ‘Hardly all the grain.’
         ‘Call yourself a farmer?’ she started, but the fight in her eyes gave way to tiresomeness. ‘Hello Ingrid,’ she greeted an approaching old woman.
         Ingrid smiled. ‘Have you seen my husband?’
         ‘No,’ Ambrose shook his head gently.
         Ingrid sighed, looked around expectantly then trotted back home in her labile way.
         ‘Poor dear,’ Ambrose lamented.
         ‘Did she actually have a husband?’
         ‘A welder, my mother once told me. He went into the sea one day and never reappeared.’
         ‘They should throw her in with him.’
         Ambrose watched his wife padding the field with her broom.


He was taking, in his opinion, a well deserved day off, spent it smoking leisurely at home, watching the puffs of smoke dissipate. His legs ached luxuriously from the week’s toil. He drifted into a pleasant sleep which was seized as Martine ran back into the house and told him, ‘The Chairman listened to what I had to say! An extermination has been planned!’
         ‘An extermination of what?’
         ‘We will assail the birds.’
         ‘Assail the birds? How? Run around like we’re mad and scare them to death?’
         ‘Yes! Otherwise they’ll eat all the seeds.’
         ‘Birds eat seeds. It’s what they do.’
         ‘Not after tomorrow. They’re notifying everyone in the village. No one need work their normal trade but for the whole day work together against the birds.’
         Ambrose watched his wife. An intangible control had her.
         Vasily entered. Ambrose said his name in surprise. ‘Have you heard the news?’ his friend asked.’
         ‘I’ve heard it,’ Ambrose replied.
         ‘I haven’t been back in the village an instant and I’ve been told what my duty will be tomorrow.’
         ‘How did you find out so quickly?’
         ‘The children were told to deliver the orders to the whole village. They’re running around like it’s a game.’
         Ambrose hadn’t seen Danny since morning. He yelled his name. ‘Martine, where’s Danny?’
         Martine didn’t answer, just returned his stare. Ambrose broke away first, went to his son’s room and sat on his bed. He rubbed his head in frustration then became aware of a breathing that was not his own. He looked around then under the bed.
         Danny lay there on his stomach. ‘I cannot go. I cannot go,’ he said.
         Ambrose smiled, put a finger to his lips and left the room silently.


The following day, the people ran through the fields banging pots and firing guns for the greater good, part of a larger design, yelling and throwing their hands and bodies in the air. It was compulsory to take part but Ambrose wouldn’t kowtow to the Chairman’s wishes. From the house, he watched his wife busy in the chase. Danny sat nearby hoping his father would do something.
         Little wings flapped desperately as the birds’ attempts to land became less frequent. They started to fall, exhausted, to the earth to be beaten to a pulp in case there was any air left in them. The sun set a soft red hue and the remaining birds flew back and forth across the sky, the formation overlapping itself in a beautiful dance of death. Some of the people put their arms over their heads. The gather seemed to be heading towards them, dangerously close, but it was just a misconception of the eye. Not long afterward, there was an intense silence no one had ever heard before during the light of day.


As early as the following week this much was obvious. The damage the birds inflicted on the fields was actually balanced out by their consumption of insects that were harmful to the grain. Martine attended an emergency village meeting, returned home and told her husband what was to be done. ‘Tomorrow we’ll dig up the land where they breed.’
         ‘Deconsecrating the land once isn’t enough?’
         ‘Your non-participation was mentioned. You’d better show yourself tomorrow or there’ll be trouble.’
         The following day, everyone in the village pulled the grass from the earth. Ambrose however took his son along a hidden path to leave the village. It killed him to take his son away from his mother, to break their trimer. His heart almost seized when he saw a figure but it was only Ingrid. ‘Have you seen my husband,’ she asked. Anxious to walk on, Ambrose still took the time to stop and gently say, ‘No, Ingrid.’
         She smiled. ‘I have a feeling I’ll find him soon.’
         Ambrose smiled sadly and continued on his way.
Martine returned home to find her family had deserted her. She didn’t have long to mourn. With no grass on the fields of loosened soil, the harsh winds that blew that night whipped up the land creating a dust storm. Nobody could see far enough in front of them to even attempt an evacuation. The village was enveloped, smothered and annihilated.
Another man wise enough to leave the village in time was the Chairman, who declared that poor weather was the cause of the tragedy. Later he said, ‘It is a known fact that the death rates actually dropped during my time as Chairman.’ Estimates of the numbers of deaths varied in years to come, then there was the belief that those who perished never actually existed.