Date Day

– Amelia

The day was already hot when Amelia left the Melody with Bumpy. She felt damp and dirty despite the airflow over and around her wings. She glanced over at Bumpy to make sure he wasn’t looking while she smelt herself. Not too bad, she thought, but by lunchtime I’ll be in trouble unless I can find a nice, clean, backyard bath. She sighed at the thought, and sniffed the air ahead but couldn’t smell any fresh water. She glanced at Bumpy again. He seemed…distracted.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” She asked. She heard his belly rumble in reply. “Hello?” She said, waving a wing in front of his face.

“Huh?” he said, and fell out of the air. Tumbling and spinning and screaming.

“Bumpy?” She called. “Are you alright down there?” She flew a tight downward spiral to investigate. She was just about to scream herself when he pulled out of the dive, wings scraping against the tar, heaving and straining until he returned to normal flight.

“Sorry,” he said as though he hadn’t just about died. “I missed what you were saying. There was a…” Amelia groaned as he wobbled and spun. “Thing.” He finished.

She let him chatter for the whole flight, only chipping in when he seemed to think he was taking her on a date. He looked panicked about that, but took her to a park anyway, sitting her under an apemobile.

“Is it safe?” She asked. “How do we know the machines won’t start up?”

“Nah. They don’t seem to work on Saturdays.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. There’s a lot of apes around.” Amelia countered.

“Trust me. This is the place to be. And anyway the apes must be allergic to fresh soil. See? They all go around it.”

They had the entire patch to themselves—if you didn’t count the pair of magpies, the single crested pigeon, and the school or two of seagulls. Bumpy nodded at the partially shaded corner. “You wait there, I’ll get us some starters from the carpark.”

Amelia landed, fitting as much of herself into the dappled shade as she could, tucked her legs underneath herself tidily, and began preening while Bumpy foraged in the carpark. It wasn’t long before he came back with a once-beautiful orange butterfly. He presented it to her.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s a monarch. Isn’t it—” but he was gone again. “Poisonous.” She said to the empty air. The empty hot air.

Felix returned with a small moth for himself. A gentle sea breeze wafted their way but it wasn’t cool enough. She heard his belly grumble, saw him cast a side-eye for nearby worms, and realized she’d have to feed herself.

“We could always forage in the carpark together,” she said. “I haven’t done that for so long. Remember when we used to do it?”

“Sure,” he said, jumping up. “Oh, look.” He pointed a primary. “Seagull fledglings in training.”

“Ohhh,” Amelia shook her head sadly as she stood up and shook off dirt. The gulls were perched on a powerline, vents poised. “It can’t be nice getting covered in poo.”

“Do you think the apes are smart enough to understand the game?”

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean we should take advantage of them.”

A crumble of earth shifted underfoot, making the tiniest sound. They swung an eye each downwards. Another crumb moved. It was right at Bumpy’s feet.

“Yours!” she whispered. He stretched his neck, waiting—stabbed at the dirt as it crumbled again. His beak came up full of wriggling earthworm.

“Ood oo ike arf?” he asked her.

“Actually,” she said. “I’m trying to be vegan.” He tossed the worm around in his beak, lining it up just right, and swallowed it whole.

“So what do vegans eat?” He asked her.

“My favourite is dandelion. You would not believe how delectable the leaves are. And the flowers are just the perfect sweet dessert. Even the seeds are great.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “I can’t see any dandelions around. But I can see something I think you’ll love. Have you ever had blackberry nightshade?”

“Isn’t that poisonous?” she asked.

“Only when they’re green. They’re delicious when they’re ripe. See those ones over there?” He pointed with a primary. “They look just perfect.” He flew-hopped over the dirt and waddled towards the berries. “Here,” he said to her when she joined him. “Taste this.”

“Oh, wow. That tastes like licorice! How did you learn about this?”

“Do you remember Glaucous?”

“The satin bowerbird we met when we were only just fledged? Yeah. I haven’t thought about him in ages. He had that weird place with all the blue stuff, didn’t he.”

“Yep. That’s the one. Well he’s the one who told me about this nightshade. Satins are crazily addicted to this stuff.”

“I thought that was Davidson’s plums?”

“Yes! Them too!” He picked another and footed it to her. They ate a few more in silence—apart from the annoying seagulls, who still hadn’t run out of ammo.

“Mock my moon!” One of them called, lifting its tail-feathers.

“Don’t look now,” Felix warned Amelia.

“Beak my butt!” The second cried.

“Venerate my vent!” and “Kiss my cloaca!” —The last two had been to a good school.

The scurrying apes ignored them all.

“Seriously, I wonder if they’re smarter than we think.” Amelia mused.

“Nah,” Felix said. “Too many chips. Dulls their senses.”

Amelia grinned. “I meant the apes.”

“Yeah, course they are.” He grinned back at her. “Look at their patterns. They’re not just random, they’re moving somewhere with purpose.”

“As smart as us, you reckon?”

Felix glanced around before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I hear they think they’re in charge.” He held a flight feather up to his beak for silence, and gave her a knowing nod. Amelia’s eyes went round, her body stiffened and her feathers stilled.

Felix burst out laughing.

“Oh stop it!” she told him with a relieved giggle and a wave of her wing in dismissal. “You galah. You had me for a nano-second.”

Late morning rolled peacefully into early afternoon. “Why weren’t you at Twicer’s farewell?” Amelia asked him over a dessert of warm leftover coke Bumpy found in the bin.

“That orphaned cuckoo?” Bumpy asked.

“That’s him,” Amelia agreed. “But he’s actually a koel.”

“Same thing,” he shrugged. “I didn’t know he left. Haven’t seen him since fledgling school. Where’d he go?”

“Asia. Said the pull on his magnetite was giving him headaches. They say that happens to migratories when it’s time. Hey, that reminds me…you used to talk about it all the time. Finally grew out of it I guess?”

He cleared his throat. “What?” he asked.

A magpie chose that moment to let out a raucous squawk, and Amelia jumped. She shivered, rubbing her wings together as though cold.

“I guess…” she started, flapping her wings.

“Yeah,” he said, stretching his legs.

The magpie squawked again.

“Thank you for lunch,” Amelia said.

“No, I should be thanking you,” Bumpy said. “Thank you for the date. I mean practice. Practice date.”

“You know,” Amelia smiled. “We should do this again some day.”

“I’d like that,” he replied. He took a step towards her.

Was he going to kiss her? Now? On a practice date? Surely not. Maybe he was just coming in to shake her wing. She stretched out her wing, accidentally smacking him in the face as he leaned in—and the magpie took off, low and fast ruffling their head feathers.

Felix shook his wing at the retreating tail. “Are you alright?” He asked Amelia.

“I’m fine,” she said, flapping her wings again.

“Can I escort you home at least?” he asked.

“Thank you, but I’m not going straight home. Me and the henlings have to catch up.” She shrugged as if apologizing. “You know, compare notes, that sort of thing. Stormfeather will be wanting our feedback.” Bumpy’s shoulders slumped and he turned to leave. “In fact,” she added. “I kind of need to watch your take-off and, you know. Score it.”

Felix only tripped a little bit. He launched himself into the warm afternoon sky, even executing a pretty good swoop before he disappeared. He was really sweet. Trying that awkward kiss had lost him points though. She did a mental tally and turned to leave—and looked straight into the flight path of the most beautiful bird she’d ever seen.

“Well hello,” he said, landing perfectly a few paces away. “I saw you sitting here alone and flew over to make sure you’re ok.” He looked around. “Forgive me, I really don’t mean this as a come-on, but it’s kind of a strange place for someone as glamorous as you to be sitting all alone.”

Amelia was lost for words. She stared at the deep black of his chin, the immaculate splay of scapular feathers, the neat coverts, the perfectly formed eye-ring.

“Errr…” he smiled at her. “Hello?”

“Oh.” She pulled herself back from the brink of the most amazing eyes on earth. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I’m…fine thank you. I was just leaving actually.”

“Ok.” He smiled again. “My name’s Manfred. Manfred Magenta. Lovely to meet you. And,” he leaned in and sniffed, “you smell utterly amazing.”