The Two Birdies
By Gene Aronowitz
“I’ll get the birdie,” Seymour said to his forty-two-year-old daughter, Cari, as he opened the wire door to the cage. “Ouch, don’t squeeze so hard,” yelled Donald, the larger of the two red finches.
Seymour didn’t realize he was squeezing and, of course, didn’t understand Donald’s protests, vocalized in a language only understood by finches and some other birds. Then Seymour fastened a red Velcro strap over Donald’s wings so he wouldn’t be able to fly away.
Donald spent much of his free time trying to figure out how to get away from what he considered a monotonous and perpetually painful existence. He refused to accept the fact that he and his fellow finches were born and bred to be what the pros called shuttlecocks. Donald was committed to starting a movement composed of finches and maybe some circus animals once he got away. As he was being pulled out of the cage, Donald yelled to David, “We need to figure out how to wiggle out of this Velcro.”
“You’ve been planning an escape forever,” answered David, who had been purchased, six months earlier, along with Donald, the day they graduated from The Red Finch School for Badminton Birdie Skills. There, they learned to flip around after their redbreasts were hit so that the breasts would be facing the other player after sailing over the net.
David was shorter and slimmer than Donald, and Cari thought she would do better if they played with David. As the lighter of the two, he would sail further and faster when hit. Approaching 70, Seymour, preferred to play badminton with the slower-moving Donald and since he was still stronger than Cari and could hit harder, he thought playing with Donald would give him the advantage. But this time, Cari was on to him and, seeing that Seymour had already taken Donald out of his cage, suggested they use both birdies, alternating every other game. Seymour could think of no way to honorably reject the proposal and agreed. Cari smiled, “You’ll never be able to keep up with me when we play with David.” “Don’t hold your breath,” Seymour replied as they approached the court.
David turned to Donald and whispered, “We could do that.”
“Do what?” Donald replied.
“Hold our breath. We should learn to take a deep breath, hold it for a long time, to keep our air sacks filled. Our breasts will be bigger when they put on the Velcro. Once we exhale, the straps should be pretty loose.
“Great idea,” Donald said but could say no more as Seymour squeezed him to prepare for the match’s first serve. After the first game, which Seymour won, David became the birdie. Sensing the possibility of release from this torturous lifestyle, David perceived the repeated poundings to be more punishing than he had in the past. He eagerly joined Donald in his quest to escape.
Night and day, they practiced holding their breath. They timed themselves to the clicks of the old grandfather clock in the corner of the living room as it moved its minute hand. They started at the first click and soon got past the second click but could not get past the third, which was their goal. Three weeks later, by exhaling a little and taking short breaths, they could keep their chests extended for up to 4 clicks of the grandfather clock, which, according to their plan, was all the time they would need when an opportunity presented itself.
A week later, Cari returned for a match, and Donald and David were ready. When they saw Seymour approaching the cage to get them, they filled their air sacks, waited, let out a little air, and breathed again, keeping their bodies an inch broader than usual. They also fluffed their feathers just before Seymour connected the Velcro straps.
Seymour and Cari went outside to the edge of the court and, as was their custom, placed their equipment aside and slowly sipped coconut water to store some electrolytes. When they finished and picked up their rackets, the two finches were already on their way.
Donald and David had to stop and rest on tree limbs frequently because their wings had begun to shrivel from lack of use. Perched on one, they realized that their breasts were puffed out, not out of necessity, but from the exhilaration they felt from their long-longed-for freedom. Nevertheless, they understood that they should not waste any time. There was work to be done.to help others escape from the laborious lives they were compelled to live, starting, of course, with other finches.
