Birds on a Wire

A preview of a new short-story, and a companion to my first book Frog of Arcadia

The following is a preview of a short-story from my upcoming anthology, The Agrigore. This collected volume will serve as a companion to my first book, Frog of Arcadia. If you enjoy my work, children’s literature told with an old soul, please consider supporting my future publications by subscribing. As a special thank you to my paid subscribers, I have included the full story below a paywall.

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“Why are we up here again?” Nancy asked to no one in particular. Only moments earlier, her entire flock had been grazing for seeds buried beneath the snow. But in a sudden whirlwind of impulse, they were now perched high up on the hydro wires, each of them spontaneously fleeing for the same unspoken destination. Nancy could scarcely even remember leaving the meadow, it all happened so quickly. “Was there a cat or some danger that I didn’t see?”

“I like being up here.” Agnes replied with a friendly peep. “It helps me to see who I’m talking to. When we’re moving about on the ground, you all stand right in front of me where I can’t see you. Conversations are always much more orderly up here.”

“How can you say you prefer it up above the treeline?! Nancy reacted. “It’s freezing up here!” The countryside had been blanketed in a fresh white coat the previous evening, and a biting north wind had swept in over the cleared fields.

“Oh, quit being such a Negative Nancy,” Peggy jested to thin smiles.

“What I was saying before is that if we could all reason together for more than fifteen seconds, without the constant interruptions and impulses, then we’d be halfway to sunny shores right now.” Debbie chirped.

“That’s a myth.” Nancy protested.

Debbie rolled her eyes.

“South is no myth!” Agnes rebutted. “Other, let’s say more coordinated flocks fly south all the time. We chickadees just react to the cold… differently, and kind of move around to nowhere in particular.”

“If you’ve got a problem with leadership, maybe you should say something.” Peggy asserted triumphantly.

Agnes swallowed her next words, creating an awkward moment of silence.

“That’s a bit snarky,” she finally replied, ending the uncomfortable pause. But her words were discarded.

“I almost said something last time, remember?” Nancy spoke up.  

“Oh yeah. Remember Susan’s face? She was all like, lets go over here, and you were all like ‘really?’ with your head cocked to the side. That was epic.”

“These winters are brutal though.” Peggy sighed.

“They’re worse up here on these dreadful wires.” Nancy answered.

“But it is safer up here.” Agnes peeped, daring to wade back into the conversation.

“Why is this even a thing?”

“Its only a thing because you’re making it a thing.”

Debbie ruffled her feathers and huffed, exasperated.

“Didn’t your husband get electrocuted on one of these wires, Nancy?” Debbie asked, testing her place in the pecking order.

Peggy and Agnes awkwardly shot their eyes toward the white ground below, as if momentarily checking out. With a fiery gaze, Nancy’s stared right through Debbie.

“No, dear. That was a telephone wire.” Nancy finally replied with expert ease.

“Impossible.” Debbie challenged.

“What do you mean, impossible?”  

“Well, I don’t know the science behind it, but I distinctly recall Zachary yelling his name when he died.”

“He yelled “black-capped chickadee” as he died?” Agnes questioned, coming to Nancy’s defense. But Debbie wasn’t having it.

“For the last time Agnes, literally nobody says the ‘black-capped’ part out loud. Do you? Its just ‘chickadee-dee-dee.’ That’s it! Why am I explaining this to another chickadee? Can someone please help me?”

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