“Bird Feeder” by Erik Carlsen

The neighbor called me and Zach over

to his yard and asked if we knew how to cut down a tree,

we looked at each other and then at him, and said

yes.

 

The tree was old and large with heavy branches and leafs

the size of our heads. We went into my garage and each put on

a pair of my father’s gloves which were far too large. We gathered tools, also.

 

An axe, we both thought we would need an axe, and a saw, a saw would also be a good

idea, we thought. We walked over, and the man said that he would give us $50 to cut it down

and clean it up. Perfect, we thought, smiling. I started swinging the axe into the trunk of the tree

and the man went inside his house. We heard the television turn on.

 

I chopped halfway through and we started pushing on the trunk. The tree creaked and we both screamed as it fell. Timber. As I started to cut through the branches with the saw I noticed blood on the finger of my glove. I tore the glove off to find that I was not bleeding.

I asked a strange question. Are you bleeding?

 

Zach said no. I looked down to find a robin in its nest crushed under the branch it built below. I reached down with my hand and felt the feathers on its chest, they felt like nothing. Its chest was deflated, and its beak was open. I grabbed a leaf, then picked it up and walked with it out in front of me like it would harm me if it got too close.

 

There was something unnatural about being so close to a bird.  I placed it in the man’s garden under a holly bush. I turned around and saw a bird feeder on a post down the street, then robins on the lawn. Zach was picking up branches and throwing them into a pile in the alley. He asked me what I found, and I told him they were everywhere.

Erik Carlsen is a Junior at PLU and is always happy to be read, especially in Creative Colloquy.