Dixon stared out the window with a little chirp of a sigh. His beak tapped on the storefront’s glass, the feathery mess of a reflection sullenly staring at him. On the other side, the sun shone brightly while the breeze brushed away any heat coming from the cemented ground. The trees waved at him, trying to entice him to play with the other birds weaving in and out of their branches.
He wanted to join in. He desperately wanted to fly with the others.
Taking a breath, Dixon waited until a two-legged giant walked through the moving glass before rushing out. Bellowing a high-pitched cry, his spread his wings and felt his heart slam against his chest as the wind lifted him from the ground.
He focused on the trees in front of him, streamlined his flight into the trees across the way. He landed easily, talons digging into the bark as he took a minute. Looking around, the other birds barely noticed him. A few landed nearby and cocked their heads, staring at him with soft coos of encouragement.
Good. These birds weren’t going to mock him for his fear.
He looked up at the building in front of him. It was a giant among its brothers, towering over the other buildings. The worms and rocks in his stomach began doing flips, threatening to break through his furry belly to leave him as gutless as he felt.
The wind picked up again. He wasn’t quite ready, so he used the upward burst to climb a little higher in the tree. Another burst carried him higher, and he kept hopping his way towards the top until he could go no higher. He was already higher than he wanted to be.
He did this every day. Tried to face his fear every day. Failed every day.
The earth breathed out, wind shaking the highest leaves of his tree. Other birds fluttered and flitted around him, celebrating their abilities, and he spread his wings again to allow the earth-breath to lift him into the skies. He tilted his body to adjust for direction, aiming for the very top of the building.
He was almost there. The top of the building was in sight. He was going to do it this time, he was going to beat his fears. A sudden gust of wind lifted him higher...higher...too high. He was too high!
The edge disappeared beneath him, earth-breath carrying him too far, too fast. He fumbled, folding his wings and turning around. He fell back to earth, a gathering of bushes breaking his fall. His body went still as he stared up at the sky, listened to the others trill and coo and call to each other.
He couldn’t. All this time and he still couldn’t. Ever since he could remember, he feared heights.
His belly and talons were starting to burn. He had been in this situation before, knew how important it was he get up and get out of harm’s way. But he couldn’t make himself do it again. Didn’t want to face the rest of the day watching the others.
A soft tweet drew his attention from below. Dixon flipped himself over with some effort, looking down into the bush. A small grouping of his kind sat inside, staring up at him. Small black crests on the tops of their heads were lifted as they talked among themselves before one of them hopped up to the top.
The leader tilted his head, looking at Dixon before looking back up. They stared together at the edge of the building, far up in the skies, before looking back at each other. The little ones flapped and tweeted, little bodies barely getting off the ground. As they tried to fly, their little chests beat furiously until they had to stop. The top one hung his head and looked up brightly at Dixon before looking back up at the building.
These little ones couldn’t fly as high. They were as scared as he was, and they were barely able to get out of the bush. He looked up again before flapping his wings, puffing out his chest at the littles. A few more made it from the bush, and Dixon flew his way to the concrete nearby.
He waited, looking back. The little top-bird peeked from the bush, chest moving like a cornered mouse. With a loud chirp, the top-bird burst from the bush with a flailing of wings and feathers. They looked back at the bush, the others making a fuss but not moving. They looked on with bright excitement, chirping cheers as they stared.
Together, Dixon and the little chirp flew from the concrete to a small bench, resting calmly on the edge. Little Chirp teetered on the edge, glancing around and shuffling close to Dixon. After a moment, he flitted himself back to the bush, black crest shoved down against his head. The bush died down as several tiny eyes stared out.
Dixon let out a soft coo and made his way back behind the moving glass. He’d come out later for food and water, pecking at the bugs and discarded giant-food when available.
He’d forgotten the days he could barely get himself off the ground. When he was trapped in a bush like Little Chirp and the others. When he could barely fly his way across the street thanks to his fear. He had been able to fly little by little, failing as many times as he succeeded. Yet today he had almost made it to the top of the building, his fear of heights not able to stop him from trying. It may have stopped him yesterday, and it may stop him tomorrow. But it didn’t today.
He glanced back at the bush. The little eyes were still trained on him, watching. They didn’t like heights any more than he did, but they had been watching him and Little Chirp had even tried to face his own fear with Dixon by his side.
If he could get this far, little by little, then certainly they would be able to do the same. Maybe even farther with Dixon helping them. The world is hard enough place without help. And Dixon knew what they were going through, even if he was different from them. Didn’t he owe it to his past self to help them if he could?