Birdy

tree in the corner of our yard. I come down in slow circles looking for a branch on which to land. I find one just on the yard side of the top of the tree. I land and fluff out my feathers. I feel all together. I feel like me to the very tips of myself.
    I look over to the aviary. Perta is coming out, standing on the landing board. On top of the aviary are two of my sons and one of my daughters. I think of peeping to tell them where I am but decide to sing. I start to sing in the sunshine and my song goes out into the blue air. I have a sense of drifting into the sky with my notes. I feel I’m a part of everything my song touches. While I’m singing, Perta flies up, and joins me on the branch. She feels what I’m feeling and asks me to feed her. I feed her and sing some more, then feed her again. I fly up over her and in. It’s more than it ever was before. I spring away and fly small circles over Perta. I sing while I’m flying. I’m forgetting I’m Birdy; I’m a real bird and it isn’t a dream.
    I fly all through the night and can go everywhere my birds have gone in the day. There are other places I want to fly to, like over the gas tank or to the mill pond, or down where we used to have the pigeon coop in the tree, but I can’t do it.
    In the days, I think about flying all the time. It’s all so real in the dream that the things I do in the day are harder and harder to believe.
     
    It’s time to start breeding for the new year. I clean out all the cages and get them in shape. I’ve already decided who the breeding pairs will be and I’ve been giving them egg food and dandelion to get them in breeding condition. When I put the breeding birds in the cage, I’ll take out the dividing floor and use the whole flight cage for my family.
    Early in April, I put the breeding pairs together. In the dreamthat night, Perta and I fly to the edges of the places we can go. We chase each other in the air and sometimes brush wings as we come close. I’m tempted to turn over in the air like a tumbler pigeon, but a canary can’t do that.
    Perta says she doesn’t want to build our nest in the aviary; she wants to build it in the tree. It’s my dream so I thought this up, but I’m surprised in the dream. If Perta builds her nest in the tree in the dream, will it be there in the daytime, too?
    The next day I’m busy feeding and watering the birds in the breeding cages and watching to see how the mating is proceeding. More than half the pairs have mated before, so they should get started quickly enough.
    I’ve already opened the door to my flying family and they’re out flying in the open. After I’m finished with the breeding cages, and before I go in for dinner, I whistle for them to come back into the cage. Everybody comes in but Perta. I’d trained her later than the others so I whistle again. She comes to the landing board and when I put out my finger she comes onto it. She has something in her mouth; it’s a piece of dry grass.
    That night, Perta and I search all over the tree for a right meeting of branches where we can build our nest. I think about climbing the tree in the day and putting a nest holder up there for us, but decide against it.
    The next afternoon, Perta doesn’t come when I call. I know she’s building a nest outside somewhere. This is another thing that began in the dream and now is happening in the day. I put some seed and water on the roof of the aviary where she’ll be safe from cats, and hope for the best.
    Perta and I spend many hours building the nest. It’s much harder without a container and without shredded burlap. We gather pieces of dried grass and bits of wood from every direction. There’s an old straw chair in the garage my father made years ago, before I was born. We tear out pieces and shred it to line the nest. It’s a beautiful construction. I can only do what Perta tells me and her instincts are coming on strong. We get it finished two days before the first egg comes.
    It’s a terrific nest. I fly to different branches so I can look down on it. The place we chose can’t be seen from the air, or from the ground either. No hawk or cat would ever even know it’s there. Perta lays her usual four eggs and she’s very happy. I sing to her from different parts of the tree and go down to the seed and water on top of the aviary to get food for her.
    In the daytime I find immediately where Perta has built her nest. It’s exactly where we’ve built our nest in the