"To let go is not to deny, but to accept.To let go is to fear less and love more."
- Terry Rogers
Username;;
Anberlin
Name;;
Alma
A very pretty name name that finds its roots in the Latin word almus,
meaning 'kind' or 'nurturing.' She takes her name very seriously.
Gender;;
Female
Anberlin
Name;;
Alma
A very pretty name name that finds its roots in the Latin word almus,
meaning 'kind' or 'nurturing.' She takes her name very seriously.
Gender;;
Female
Bird related stuff;;
When Alma awoke, the sky was still dark. Perhaps a bit blue, suggesting the coming dawn, but only a trained eye would have noticed the difference. She was already wide awake, however, and immediately set to warming up a bowl of water; there would be no tarrying this morning, not so long as she had a job to do.
While the water warmed on the stove, she tiptoed up to her glass aquarium where it stood against a curtainless window. No fish here – instead there was little brown chick, a thrasher, perhaps. Her babies all looked so similar when they were small. It was peaceful now, sleeping like a little darling, but the moment the sun peeked through the window it would be hollering for food.
She could hear the sound of rising steam coming from her kitchen, and not wishing to warm the water up too much, she snuck away. By the time she had mixed up the chick’s formula – a special blend of warm water, dry cat food, and bird vitamins – it would be awake and hungry. She’d let the cat food soak a bit, mix in the vitamins, and turn it into a mash. An odd meal, perhaps, but just as effective as any expensive formula would be. It was all about packing in the protein this baby would need to become a plump and successful flier come fall – and fall was coming fast.
Already her little chick was looking less like a helpless hatchling and more like the bird it would be, the wax on its feathers sloughing away with each preening and its interest in the formula weakening as it began to discover bird seed. She could take it outside now and let it feel the breeze and the sun… Occasionally it would flap its wings, getting ready for its first flight. Soon enough, her little bird would be flying. Soon enough, it would seek out the company of those of its kind, and when the weather grew cold, her little bird would leave.
She would be lonely throughout the winter. It would be a break from the stress and worrying that came with raising her birds, but until the spring returned with her dear little ones, she would have to figure out ways to cope.
But oh, when the warm rays of spring did come, she would see them again. Little hatchlings of previous years still made a habit of returning to her feeders with their new families, and she would put out seeds, berries, and nuts for them. If she was still, they would come to perch on her shoulders and head the way they had when they were young. How proud she would be, to see them with their mates and babies – her grandbirds, if you would. Spring was a time to remember why she let her babies face their personal dangers; they needed to live wild and free, where they belonged and with whom they belonged.
Behind her, the chick squawked.
((Should be exactly 500 words ;3;))
