The Bird

Sometimes, when he was thinking, Shem tugged at his gray whiskers. He sat now, perched on the edge of a bench, stroking his chin. His eyes looked up toward the tops of the trees in the park. He looked beyond the trees to the clouds, which blended gracefully into the reddening dusk. He caught sight of a bird swooping above the trees, and he was interested.

The bird stopped in a tree and deposited whatever it had been carrying in its beak, a piece of cloth or maybe a bit of food. The bird flew from the tree, and Shem continued to watch as it circled lazily in the sky, keeping watch for something interesting below. Suddenly, it glided down from the sky and landed next to a green wire trash can. Around the can was strewn bits of refuse that had missed their targets. A man, in too much of a hurry to take careful aim, threw a slip of paper at the trash can and missed. He watched the trash fall to the ground, and, deciding his time was too precious, promptly forgot about it. The paper floated down next to the bird who carefully picked it up and flew back to its spot in the tree.

Shem reclined back into the brown park bench, one hand still grasping his beard. His head turned as he followed the bird's path back to the tree. The bird stopped for a few seconds, cocked its head sideways, and whistled. It blinked and looked around before taking flight again. This time it spotted a stern looking woman aggressively walking down the sidewalk with her teeth clenched together and her hands balled in fists that swung at her sides. Her eyes were steely and stared holes into anyone who got in her way. The bird followed above the woman, at times waiting on the street or on a parking meter a little bit ahead of her. No matter how rapidly the woman marched ahead, she could never outpace the bird. She continued staring ahead as a small pin in her hair worked its way loose. The bird watched her patiently until the pin escaped and fell to the ground. She briefly looked down at the pin, and, obviously having something more important to attend to, continued angrily on her way.

Shem meditated on the bird's observance. He gave his beard a gentle pull as it collected the pin, and he wondered what the little creature would come up with next.

Noisily, a woman pushed a group of four small children down the street. She hurried them and pulled impatiently at the wrist of the littlest one who carried a red balloon and looked at the bird. She lectured them on the importance of punctuality as they slowly made progress down the street. She pushed another gently on the back, doubtlessly reminding him not to dawdle. The oldest of the children walked dutifully next to his mother, proud that he understood the importance of time. The bird hopped in front of this child unnoticed. Shem worried at another generation of children who wouldn't know how to dawdle. It had become a lost art, conditioned out of even the youngest children by forced schedules of soccer games and piano lessons. Playtime, even, was rationed out like sugar during a war.

Both Shem and the bird watched as the youngest lost hold of his balloon and began to cry. His mother towed him along and reminded him that they were running late. The balloon floated up a few feet before it got caught by a breeze and lodged itself in one of the trees. Hitting a sharp branch, the balloon burst and hung limply from the tree. The bird grabbed hold of the red carcass and returned it to its nest.

Shem continued to watch the bird pick up pieces of lives that people lost as they hurried down the street through dimming light. As it became night, he lost sight of the bird. Contentedly, he stopped pulling at his beard and just sat. Soon he heard boots clicking against the pavement. A bright light shined painfully into his eyes.

"Mister, you gotta move on. You know you can't spend the night here," an officer said from behind the light. ìThis is a clean city," he added needlessly. Shem didn't say anything. He stood up, straightened his worn coat, and slowly started away from the bench. Behind him, he heard boots quickly click away. From above, the shadow of a bird swooped down in pursuit of the officer.