New Wings

– Felix

Light appeared.

Felix tried to close his eyes but the light insisted. It annoyed him, intruded on his comfort, made him think. It filled his vision. Coming closer or getting bigger, he couldn’t tell. It reminded him of Pumpkin, looming and swaying, making him treesick. And then with an awful lurch, he vomited. Water made acrid by his stomach contents burned his beak, his throat, his nostrils. Even the splashes on his breast feathers burned through his barbules.

The light dimmed. The darkness came back. He relaxed again.

And then a voice spake unto him.

“Breathe!” it spake. “Come on, hawk you, breathe!”

With another sickening lurch, the darkness, warmth, and safety left him for the last time. Something was pressing rhythmically on his wishbone. Something like a beak was covering his face and a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, trace elements and something that smelt strongly of rotten fish forced its way inside him, filling his air sacs. He struggled, trying to move his wings, desperate to be sick again, finally throwing himself on his side, choking and spluttering as water poured from his air sacs and burned his throat.

“You’re alive!” the seagull yelled. “I saved you! You’re alive!”

With a pounding rush of pain, Felix felt his bleeding feet again. “Yes,” he gasped. “I’m alive.”

“I saved you,” the gull said again. “Here,” he offered some mouldy crusts. “I found you some bread. It’s not the stalest, but if we seagulls were choosy, well…we wouldn’t be seagulls then, would we?”

Felix struggled to sit up. The salt on his wings heavier than anything he’d ever carried. He’d forgotten how hungry he was. He swallowed the pieces whole.

“What was it like?” the seagull asked.

“Painful.”

“No, I mean. The other side. What did you see?”

“Nothing. A light. The sun, probably.”

“No stream of numbers? No matrix of formulae? No double helix of—”

“Why’d you save me? You don’t even know me. In fact, why’d you try and talk me out of flying at all?“

“Well…” the gull seemed nervous. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Felix scoffed. “You’re asking me that?”

“Well…I was actually waiting for you.”

“For me?”

“For somebird. Anybird. Every year somebird’s stup—curious enough to try it, so I thought it was a good chance.”

“Try what?”

“Migrating. I couldn’t think of any other way to get my albatross wings. I’ve tried saving birds on the road, but you need a really strong stomach for that. You know,” he added when Felix frowned at him. “For when you fail. I hate seeing the cleaners fight over scraps.”

“So let’s see if I get this—you go around saving birds, thinking it’ll change your wing shape?!”

“Well, it’s what we believe.”

Felix held his beak tight.

“But,” the seagull continued, “dad said we’re not supposed to talk about it, not even to other seagulls. But since I just saved your life I guess I can tell you. You know how we all get recycled, when we die?”

Felix said nothing but the seagull was on a roll now.

“You know,” the gull went on. “Quantum physics? We’re all just stardust? Made and remade, over and over?”

“I thought it was only in a general sense…” Felix started, but something in the young gull’s fervour stopped him. He coughed the last of the water out of his air sacs. “But errr…there you go, I guess? So…how exactly does life-saving change your wings?”

“Well, it’s like credit points. Save an ape, come back as a booby. Save a bird, and, well…voila! There you have your albatross.”

“So what would you come back as if you saved a parrot?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Probably a parrot, I would think. What’s your name anyway?”

Felix’s body tingled with the warmth of the sun and the glow from the bread already swelling to fill his sodden gut. “Felix,” he replied.

“I’m Salali. What made you want to migrate?”

“I just always wanted to,” Felix said. “You know, to see this Northern Hemisphere we keep hearing about.”

“Have you not heard the old saying?” Salali asked. “You can only do what you can with the wings you’ve got?”

“That’s ironic.”

“What is?”

“Never mind.” He shook the salt from his wings. The movement made his feet bleed again. “I don’t think my wings can do anything.”

Salali shrugged. “You’re supposed to spread your oil around.”
“I did. I had a preen this morning.” Felix shifted, showing Salali his uropygial gland for inspection.

“I mean you have to do it a lot more in the salt. Here. Let me help you.”

“No, that’s ok.” Felix backed off. “Beak to beak was bad enough. I errr…I spose I should get going. Oh my hawk!” he slapped his forehead. “Orville! I’ve gotta go!”

“Who?”

“Orville! I told him to tell everyone as soon as class is over!”

“Tell them what?” Salali stood up, but Felix was already taking off.