A lovely green and yellow songbird
fell from its nest today
Alone it sat
in the sun
on the patio
under the alligator juniper
bewildered
perhaps injured
or ill
perhaps afraid
Too afraid to move
when I discovered it
sitting there
I stood
observing
myself
observing
the bird
Not wanting to disturb it
and unsure of how to help—
or if I should—
I took photos
It sat
in the sun
on the patio
the warm flagstone patio
under the alligator juniper
adjacent to the manzanita bush
In the distance
a yellow bobcat roared
breaking the silence
Cautiously I sat
in a chair
by the table
on the patio
A guardian observer
Perhaps
it was my presence
which drew the cat
The orange tabby
the big orange tabby
Puss-in-Boots
the mountain lion
the Puma
He passed by
nonchalantly
casually
as cats do
He played
by the watering trough
feigning innocence
as cats do
He came to me
to say hello
nonchalantly
casually
as cats do
Stopping
to arch his back
against my leg—
an unwanted gesture
on my part
an unwilling recipient
of the wicked thing’s attention—
then he
sauntered away
casually
as cats will
I relaxed
sipping my coffee
slipping into
false security
as I tend to do
trusting—
a mistake I often repeat—
that the one I protected
was safe
I sat
with my ward
the green and yellow songbird
on the patio
in the sun
near the alligator juniper
wondering why
he—she?—
wasn’t in the tree
singing
with his friends
The tabby
the big orange tabby
Puss-in-Boots
the tiger
returned—
suddenly—
the bird
the green and yellow songbird
safe
within an arm’s length
was—
suddenly—
within the cat’s mouth
singing
its final song
I broke my silence
to cry—
No!—
but that cat
that he-lion
did not care
did not listen
as cats do
not do
That orange tabby
that big orange tabby
that mountain lion
that Puma
fled with his prize
I, filled with horror
indignation
sorrow,
followed that cat
to the front
of the house
By the time I got there
that cat
had divested the bird
the little green and yellow songbird
of its tail feathers
I sighed
resignation seeping
into my heart
into my bones
as I observed
that cat
that damned cat
gleefully
playing with—
enthusiastically
torturing—
the little green and yellow songbird
half dead
its wing broken
terrified it flopped
futilely
vainly
struggling for its life
This is what cats do.
This is the way of things.
This is the balance of life.
On the back patio
in the alligator juniper
by the manzanita bush
the songbirds
the little green and yellow songbirds
still sing
still flit from branch
to branch
calling excitedly
gleefully
enthusiastically
singing of spring.
I wonder what they know of death.
Still—
cats are the most cruel of beasts
almost as cruel as
humans.
I chased that cat off—
six feet was all he would allow—
and I ended the struggle
of the little green and yellow songbird
quickly
with the heel of my shoe
denying that sadist
any more sport
with this particular bird—
there will be others
I am sure—
but this bird
is sleeping peacefully
in the stomach
of that orange tabby
that big orange tabby
Puss-in-Boots
Puma
Marquis de Sade.
Annisa Tangreen