Plan B

– Felix

Felix flew as fast as his salted wings would take him.

“Hi, Orville,” he tried in his head. “So… I changed my mind. No”, he countered an imaginary objection. “It’s just that it’s too hot today.” Hawk, he cursed himself. “I mean, I didn’t think the curlews had the best safety record. No. I mean…” His beak worked but the right excuse wouldn’t come. It was still working when he overflew the park.

There was no sign of Orville or anybird else. “Hawk it!” he screamed out loud. “Hawk, hawk, plasticking HAWK!” He flew in a long ellipse while he thought about where to look next. Where would he be? He would’ve told the other cocklings by now, surely. Maybe they went to the wetlands to see me off? But surely I would have passed them if they did?

He flew another ellipse. Maybe they’re all talking about it now, wondering where I am. Kicking themselves for not believing me. Or fighting over my toys. Or maybe they found out what happened. Hawk, I’ll never live it down. Word’s gonna travel like a congo line of hairy caterpillars. ‘Look, there’s Felix,’ they’ll say. ‘Went on a migration, couldn’t even cross the river without drowning.’ I’ll never be able to show my beak in public again.

He flew a third ellipse. Maybe Orville hadn’t told them yet. Maybe something happened to him. Maybe he never went to class? No, that wouldn’t be like him. Wait—didn’t he say he’s saving up for a debut present? Maybe it wasn’t too late yet.

He set course for Huma’s.

Orville was already perched at the log when Felix landed. He threw a piece of plastic wrapper on the pile, not even noticing it blow right back off, and perched next to his friend.
Before he could even open his beak, Huma slid him a chip.

“It’s on the tree,” she said, with a nod in Orville’s direction.

Felix stared sharply at her. How much did she know? Had Orville told everyone? Were they all about to show up? Maybe the seagull, Salali, had he somehow got here and told them already?
But her crest suggested she was happy. And Orville looked fit to burst.

“I’ll let him tell you,” Huma said, and went to serve a young gull couple at the other end of the log.

Felix turned to his friend and raised an eyestripe.

“You’ll never guess!” Orville said.

“No,” Felix said. “I don’t think I will.”

“I’ve got a mate,” Orville said, grinning.

“What?!” Felix wobbled on his perch. “How?”

“She said she liked my duet.” Orville looked smug. “So she told me I’m hers.”

“She actually came out and told you that? Already?”

“Yep!” Orville agreed.

“And she’s not someone you just imagined?”

“Nope.”

“What then—she’s new in town?”

“She’s the prettiest henling in the entire zone!”

“Who?” he asked again.

“Durba.”

“I don’t know her,” Felix said. “What’s she look like?”

“You know, the one with the white chin? The pale yellow eyes? The pinkish beak?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell…”

“The little white tips on her tail? White under the wing?”

Felix’s eyes stayed blank.

“Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were—whoa!” He’d noticed Felix’s bloody bruised feet. “What the hawk happened to you?”

Felix glanced down as if he wasn’t already aware of the throbbing pain. “Oh, nothing, I just—Did you tell anybird?”

“No,” Orville slapped himself in the beak. “I’m sorry, I forgot. It was—”

“You forgot?” Felix jumped from his perch. Orville flinched and even Huma glanced over. “You forgot?”

“I’m sorry, Bumpy, it was a hawk of a morning. First it was embarrassing, then it was—”

“Oh, Orville!” Felix relaxed with relief. “Thank you! I mean,” he turned cynical, “not thanks for forgetting me, some best friend you turned out to be, but it changes everything!”

Orville scowled. “Does this have something to do with your feet? And, come to think of it, why you’re salted like a log-cache of preserved beetles?”

Felix shrugged. He was going to get out of this after all. “I decided the Northern Hemisphere’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“So do you want to tell me what really happened?”

“I changed my mind, that’s all.”

Orville stared at Felix’s feet. They were bleeding again. “You sure you didn’t change your feet?”

Felix waved a wing. “It’s nothing. Honest.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Felix shrugged and nodded.

“That you ‘changed your mind’ about migrating?”

Felix nodded again.

“This, the same migration you’ve raved about all your life?”

Felix pushed the nodding envelope.

“Bumpy, I’m your best friend, right? And if you can’t tell me you…ok, I’m just guessing here—but if you can’t tell me that you crash-landed at the migration starting line after the curlews left without you, then—”

“Ok, ok!” Felix’s voice broke. He looked away and gathered his breath. “I just don’t want to talk about it yet, please.”

Orville softened. “Here we go again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whenever anything goes wrong you downplay it and change the subject.”

“I do not.”

“Ok. So what do you think of flying?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Humour me.”

“Well, it’s not everything it’s cracked up to be. In fact,” he chuckled. “I can see why our New Zealand cousins don’t much bother with it. I’ll bet you didn’t know even the keas are talking about giving it up?”

“I see. And what about maths?”

“Nobird really likes maths. In fact Ms said—”

“Two from two.”

“What is? Oh I get it,” he forced a laugh. “A maths joke.”

“No. I mean twice you made it sound like something was nothing and then you changed the subject.”

“I did not! Which reminds me, by the way—did I miss anything in class?”

“Look, Bumpy, I don’t mean to be harsh, but you’ve got to own up to being the bird you are. You aren’t a wader. You aren’t migratory. And you can’t be anything but a mudlark.”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

“I’m telling you you’re going to have to make up something better than ‘I changed my mind’,” Orville said.

“What’s better than that?”

“How ‘bout the truth?! Everyone’s going to wonder what’s up. You can’t just stop raving about something and hope no-one notices.”

“I don’t rave!”

“Ok. Fine. You don’t rave. Whatever.”

Felix sighed. “It’s just not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Just because I’m a cock. I bet if I was a hen they would have welcomed me. Or a parrot. Probably would’ve mapped out a royal flight path, flapped my hawking wings for me.”

“Ah…sounds a bit closer to the truth.” Orville shrugged. “Maybe now you can—”

Felix held a wing up between them. “If this sentence ends in me settling for eggs you can stop now.”

“What’s wrong with eggs? I want them, and I don’t think I’m just ‘settling’ for them.”

Felix mumbled.

“It’s not all that bad, Bumpy. Dad says it’s the best thing that ever happened to him. You know I’m mum’s 25th? Her silver chick she calls me. And dad says he’s never looked back. They’re already doing the reno’s for next year’s clutch.”

“Yeah but it’s not just eggs, is it? It’s the hens that come with them,” Felix said. Orville ignored him and took another bite of his chip. “What makes you like this Durba henling anyway?”

“That’s something you’re just going to have to experience for yourself, Bumpy. I can’t explain how she makes me feel. It’d be like explaining dark energy to an ape. You’ve just got no idea until one day it just strikes you down out of a clear blue sky.”

“Really?”

“Really. Look. Why don’t you just come back to school. We’ve got date day coming up. Why don’t you see if Bobbi’ll agree to be your practice partner?”

Felix shrugged. “I guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“And you can always migrate next year if it doesn’t work out. Who knows? Bobbi may even want to travel.”

“I spose.” Felix thought about flying with Bobbi and the curlews. He wondered what mating would be like. Surely it couldn’t be all that bad? She’s nice enough. And she likes me. “Yeah.” He grinned at Orville. “Maybe you’re right. But please, can we not…” He finished with a shrug.

“I know how it goes, Bumpy.” Orville gulped the last of his chip and rolled his head. “What migration, right?”