It had been a turbulent night, and was still dark when they landed in some hedge or misshapen tree. They huddled there until morning.
"I'm sure this is a dream, but Big Ben is certainly authentic looking," the first one said. Well, he didn't actually say. Being a bird, he vocalized, somewhat melodically.
"Who's Big Ben?" asked the second bird.
"You know Big Ben - the tower, the giant clock - you've seen it 100 times in movies."
Bird Two looked at him questioningly.
"Oh, right. I forget you're not a movie-goer."
"And you are?"
Bird One let that pass. "I'm beginning to think this isn't a dream. Tom (that was Bird Two's name), I think we're not in Kansas, anymore."
"We were never in Kansas!"
"Right, not a movie-goer. 'Not in Kansas' is a line from 'The Wizard of Oz,' and is an allusion..."
"Wizards, illusions - what are you talking about?"
"Not illusion, it's an allusion. I mean it's just something you tweet[1] when things are not as you expected them to be. Big Ben, not expected; ergo, not in Kansas."
'You're right, mate," interrupted a third bird. "This is definitely not Kansas."
Bird One was listening closely to Bird Three's vocalizations. "I'm not Professor Henry Higgins, by any means, but I think he would agree with me that your tweets are British, probably from London. That's the closest I can come. He'd probably be able to place you on the street where you live."
"Well, his - or your - guess about London wouldn't be too surprising, what with Big Ben there in the background, and such. I don't know your Professor Higgins, but if he's that good, I think he'd probably interpret your vocalizations as kind of a broken English - probably American - Massachusetts maybe, and the suburbs of Boston. I can't place you any closer than that."
"It's Boston. I take it we really aren't there, anymore?"
"Not Boston, not Kansas. Just the outskirts of London, England, mates. Welcome to the biggest and best city in the world!"
"I have a feeling you haven't checked a world atlas lately, or perused any of the Internet's lists of the 'Ten Best Cities to Live in.' Never mind that. I'm glad to know where we are. Now, I'm just wondering how we got here."
"I imagine you can credit, or blame, Hurricane Lee for that. We get tropical blows here occasionally, and in the past we've had a few of your kind show up after one of them. But we seldom get one like Lee and, from the reports I've been hearing, half the birds in New England got picked up by it and were blown across the Atlantic. You two are a little unique, in that most of your kind got dumped on the coast when the winds abated somewhat. The twitchers in Ireland and western England are going crazy, right now."
"Twitchers?"
"You know, twitchers? The Humans only interested in odd avian events."
Bird One[2] and Tom both looked puzzled.
"I'll try to explain, as the word 'twitcher' is obviously unfamiliar to you. Here in Great Britain, there are two types of Humans who enjoy watching us 'winged beauties,' as I think one of them once called us. The one kind enjoys seeing us - fancy or plain, unusual or commonplace - any time and anywhere. They follow us around, watch where we live, what we eat, where we build our nests, when we... Well, the last is a little off-putting - sometimes verging on voyeurism, I'd say. We like a little privacy for that. But, anyway, I'm getting off the subject. These Humans - I think they just call themselves 'bird watchers' - just like to watch us.
"Then, there are the twitchers. Most of the time, you don't see or hear much of them. Have something unusual happen in the Bird World - like you foreigners showing up - and suddenly they're everywhere, adding you to their life lists, their year lists, their country lists, their county lists, their spring-summer-fall-winter lists - whatever kind of lists they're keeping. Sometimes, they don't seem to even want to look at you. Oh, they'll sometimes swing their binocs - field glasses - up to take a quick peek. All they really need, though, is somebody to tell them what they're seeing, and there goes the check mark on their list."
"Thanks," said Clarence. "We have the same thing, I think. We differentiate them as bird-watchers and listers. But, back to the main issue. You say that the twitchers are going crazy. Does that mean there are more than just us who got blown across the ocean?"
"Last count I saw - in 'The Guardian' (Great paper!) - was 15 different species, and 49 different individuals. One was a species never seen in the U. K. before, and a couple had only been recorded two or three times previously. That's probably not every bird that made it here, but that would have been more than enough to put some of the twitchers in strait-jackets!"
"If that many made it here, I wonder how many didn't? I've got to imagine a lot of our friends and relatives ended up floating in the stormy Atlantic! But I guess it's best not to dwell on that. You say that this has seldom happened before? You say you do get the occasional hurricane. So, why this one? Why this time?"
"What we hear is - Global Warming."
"Global warming. Boy, that's a term bounced around every day in some context or another. How does Hurricane Lee fit into that discussion?"
"Well, I'm not an expert, but this is what I understand. You know that in late summer and early fall, a lot of tropical storms travel west across the Atlantic Ocean. They're usually about the latitude of your state of Florida. If they come ashore in your country - either as tropical storms (some wind, lots of rain) or hurricanes (major winds, lots of rain - Classes 1 to 5, depending on how strong they are) - it's usually in Florida, Louisiana, or Georgia. They lose much of their force when they get over land, but they can still spread a lot of rain over the Mid-Atlantic states."
"You know your geography pretty well," Tom observed.
"Yeah, I like maps, and I read a lot. Anyway, that's been kind of the normal situation. Now, with Global Warming, the oceans are getting a lot warmer, which acts to fuel the storms, and make them even stronger. More and more storms that would have been Category 1, 2 or 3, are now coming ashore as Category 4 and 5 - the strongest labels given to hurricanes. You can imagine the increase in destruction and damage from these mega-storms.
"I should also add that another effect of Global Warming is that all the ice in the world is melting, causing sea levels to rise. Coastal areas are already going under water, and you can imagine how deep and destructive the tides can be when the force of a Category 5 hurricane pushes them inland."
"It's hard to imagine but, yes, I can imagine it," declared Clarence. "So, you're mostly talking about the southern and mid-Atlantic region of America. How does Hurricane Lee get to England?"
"Good question. Sometimes, the storms stay out over the ocean, gather strength, and move north to New England and sometimes on to Canada - and, rarely, to Europe and the U. K. Hurricane Lee did grow very rapidly to Category 5 but, interestingly, it lost a lot of its punch fairly quickly, and was merely a tropical depression when it reached the U. K. However, it had done its work, and - weak or not - it was strong enough to haul all you foreigners to our shores.
"Everybody says this kind of situation is going to happen a lot more often, as Global Warming continues. All you North American 'winged beauties' better get your travel visas in order!"
Nobody tweeted for a few moments. "Well, that's instructive, and pretty sobering. I guess the big question now is how do we get back home?" Clarence wondered.
"I don't think you do," Rodney replied. (Rodney was Bird Number 3's given name.). "Even if hurricanes came here more often, I've never heard of one working in reverse. No just hopping on, and letting the wind take you along.
"Of course, staying here may not be that easy. I don't know what you typically eat in Massachusetts, but you probably won't get it here. It's like Humans in the United States. I understand they eat bacon and eggs, steaks, and something called grits. Here, they go for fish and chips, tea and crumpets, and kippers for breakfast."
"Kippers?"
"I'm not sure you want to know. Some kind of little fish - herring, maybe - pickled or smoked, pretty oily and unsavory-looking. Look, the point I was trying to make is, if we don't have what you're used to, you could starve to death."
Clarence sighed. "That's disheartening. I'd really like to see Boston, again. The Swan Boats at the Common. Faneuil Hall. 1776. Wow, that would have been a time to be living wouldn't it. Independence. Birth of a nation!"
"We British don't remember those times with quite the same feelings you do. I don't know what the Swan Boats are, but they might be a safer topic of conversation while you're here.
"You know, the other thing you might do is fly south, like you would at home. It would get you to a warmer winter climate but, again, you might not find satisfactory food.
"One good thing - well, maybe 'good' isn't the exactly right word - but you know that our kind only live a few years, at most. You might just die before you starved to death."
"I don't find that very reassuring, but thanks for mentioning it," said Clarence.
Tom had been quiet through most of the conversation. He spoke up, now "Here's a thought. How about we stow away on one of those cruise ships that are always going back and forth across the ocean. It might take a while, but if we got one going the right direction..."
Clarence looked stricken. "Cruise ship? Think about it, Tom. Legionnaires’ Disease. Covid. Being stuck on some sandbar for days. Song and dance acts rejected by Las Vegas. With our luck, we'd get one with those giant mice who dress like Humans, and the elephant with big ears who has aspirations of flying like us. No way. I'd rather try to swim home!"
"So," Rodney chirped, "Kippers for breakfast?
FOOTNOTES
[1] "Tweet," in this context, is what birds do, not what people do on the Internet.
[2] Actually named Clarence, but he probably would have preferred "Bird One" as a name. He wasn't real fond of Clarence.
MORE ESSAYS
To the Writing It Down Homepage
Leave a Comment: symbios@condortales.com