Dreamland

Down by the River: A Floating Aviary

I’m walking along the edge of a river with my son. The bank is getting steeper as we go, and we have to hold onto trees and shrubs to keep from sliding into the water. The Grateful Dead’s “Althea” is playing on a stereo from a house nearby; I always liked that song.

Nick has gotten ahead of me. I call out for him to slow down but he doesn’t listen. I hurry to catch up, sliding down the embankment. We walk under a bridge, and end up wading in a wide pool in the river. There is a large aviary in the middle of the pool; we can hear the birds squawking inside.

We wade out to it, and open the door. The water inside is chest deep, the birds, all budgies of various colors, are sitting in straw nests built on boxes that float inside the aviary. The water is dirty, and so are the birds. This place looks like it has been abandoned, the birds left to fend for themselves. Some of the birds are injured, and there are a few dead ones floating in the water. It looks like river rats may have gotten to some of them.

My wife is there, trying to help the birds. She’s using stainless steel clippers to trim parts off of birds that have been injured. One has a mangled toe that is hanging by a shred of skin. She clips it off, it falls into the water, she bandages the bird’s foot. Another bird has half of its bloody wing dangling by a tendon. She clips it off, it falls into the water, she bandages the stump.

It doesn’t seem to bother Nick, but I’m getting kinda sick from watching this, and I tell her so.

“Somebody’s got to take care of these birds, If you can’t handle it, leave!” she says.

I wade out the door, and back to shore. I sit on the bank, waiting for her to finish her work.