Sunday, April 26, 2020

Ethel and Sam's Brand New Home

In my imagination, they are Ethel and Sam. It is springtime and Ethel's biological clock is ticking so loud, neither one of them can think. The've been looking for the right nesting spot for days now and Ethel's starting to lose hope. But - just in a nick of time - Sam brings back some great news. He has found the home in which they will start their family.



It's a beautiful place, really. Worth the wait. There's cover from the rain. A smooth, clean surface. Warmth. Many strong, but surprisingly light sticks available all around. And best of all, room for more than one nest. Two or three if Sam is counting right (he was never great with math, but more tired than usual these days, waking up early each morning to get a worm or two).



Sam brings Ethel to the spot he's chosen, and she's surprised to see that it's even better than her mate described. She's getting heavy with egg, so Sam's going to have to do most of the work on his own. But he brought her here, he's been a great partner in all things, and he seems to know his way around a nest. She'll sit comfortably by, encourage him with her song, and keep watch out for squirrels and chipmunks and cats.

---

Sam's been labouring all evening and Ethel's impressed with the quality of his work and bursting with love. There'll be some serious pecking tonight in the temporary bush-shelter they've been occupying during the search, and an early start back to their new home in the morning. One more day of his stick-gathering and nest-building, and who knows? Maybe tomorrow night, Ethel will be able to settle in, snug, warm and dry, and prepare for the new arrivals.

Sam's been working so hard, but then Ethel will soon take over, attending to the joyous task of starting a family. She drifts off to sleep, truly serene for the first time in months.

---

Ethel wakes with a gentle nudge from Sam, a quick bit of worm he brought her, and then they're alight, back to finish the nest.

They arrive, but something's horribly wrong...



Where the partially completed nest had been, there's nothing. Everything lies scattered on the ground, including Ethel's hopes and dreams. It's a disaster, and Ethel is ready to give up. But dear Sam says no. He shoulders the blame for poor construction and vows to try again, to take even greater care, to work even harder and faster, and to make this place their home or to die trying. She's not a fan of the idea, but how can she resist his pride and determination?

They begin another long day of home-building.

The new nest is even better than the first. Sam has outdone himself as promised, and tomorrow will be the day they can finish and move in. One more night in the bushes. One more dawn. And then home at last.

---

They return again, with the sun's first rays, and see that the nest, again, lies in ruins.



Sam is heartbroken but gets right back to work. Ethel hangs her head and begins to consider Plan B. What else can she do, but hold on and stand by her man?

On the third morning, both Sam and Ethel are devastated. It's inexplicably happened again.

Sam is broken. Ethel is out of time. Sam looks to her for comfort, but she can't give him anything. They go back to the bushes in silence. Ethel's dad had warned her that Sam was "a hard-working but stupid fucker" and that one day "stupid would be the end of him". Looks like he was right.

---

Back at the scene of devastation, surveying the scene from behind a pane of glass, David and Angie watch the broken birds and their broken marriage. David begins to playfully mock the birds using funny bird voices, as he's done each morning: "Hey Sam," he says in the voice of a female robin (unknowingly choosing the male robin's actual name), "Great idea building our nest on a ceiling fan for a third time, you stupid fucker."

"Well, Ethyl," (again, quite randomly and serendipitiously landing on the female robin's real name, but spelling it wrong), "I don't see you coming up with any other bright ideas. So back the hell off and shut the fuck up."


Angie scornfully asks David if he's having fun. Not because she feels bad for the birds, but because now she has to sweep again. "Why did I marry such a stupid ass? I told him to leave the fucking fan on over night", she thinks to herself. And with that, she gets to work, cleaning up the tattered remains of those little birds' lives. "At least the stupid fucking male bird works hard..."

She should have listened to her father.

---

A parting profundity: "Aren't we all just little robins, building our lives on the blades of ceiling fans?"