I saw the birds perched in a tree at the end of the road.
Black bird shapes on black branches, settled in silhouette against the cold white winter sky.
I count 10. I think there are 10.
What is in their minds? I know birds cannot be said to have consciousness of self in the same way humans do. (Or can do.)
So. I am sitting, staring out of the window and wondering about the birds.
I try to get into their birdy brains. I am thinking of my claw-like twist-stick feet curled around the cold twig of the branch.
I am flicking, fleeting random flying thought of tree, bird, branch, twig, claw, bird, sky, fly, twig, tree, bird, branch, sky.
But I have no language. Not in the way that humans have it.
For all I know the Bird Word for tree is ‘Kaaah’. And the Bird Word for sky is ‘Kaaah’.
I imagine their concept of the world is not built on words, but on the black and white cold reality of tree, sky, earth. And the moment, which is always Now.
No past. No future. Birds live in The Moment.
All 10 birds – suddenly, almost as one – take to the air. Uncurl those cold feet from cold bark and take flight into the white sky.
No chatter from them about when, or where. Or how it will be done. Just unfurl and fly, knowing all will follow. All will follow.
A moment to perch. A moment to fly. Always living in the Now.
I feel a bit sad watching the dark birds scattering in the sky.
I am wishing I could also live in the Now. Forget the past. Not worry about the future. Just stretch out. Step off. And fly.