Birds Eye

The sun was shining that day, and the wind was strong. The endless ocean rolled out ahead of me; countless waves, endless water, and one tiny spec.

It had been a few passings of the sun since I have seen anything, there was a rock a while back, but the wind had been taking me along. I let it push me where I needed to go. It was cold, but so is everything out here; which is why I am one of the few who stay in this area of the world.

I turn towards the speck, a solid perch sounded nice for a change. I ducked and rolled with the wind, the bright sun making no difference to the temperature this high up. The speck seemed to be farther away than I had first thought, the wind was taking longer for me to get there. Or it was moving away from me.

Absurd, I blinked and looked again. It seemed to ride stiffly on a wave, like a piece of wood, but the biggest piece of wood I've ever seen. And it seemed to be smoking.

Curious, I flew on. The closer I got, the clearer it became. What a strange thing it was, long and dark with great pillars on top that seemed to be constantly steaming like wet rocks after being in the sun.

I remember hearing about these, from some others who go farther south than I ever do. Ships, or something like that. And plenty of things on them, like land but it can move on its own.

A moving rock. How about that? The world truly is wide.

I swoop closer, enough to see the things on it, moving about.

Some move quickly, others seem to take their time, laden with heavy coats. Some are furry, some aren't. I have seen these before, once or maybe more. My mind becomes cloudy after time even though I have not been long out of the nest.

Way up north in the summertime, after the ice clears and the snow melts, a moving rock, much smaller than this one, appeared on the shore. They didn't stay long, not even a whole summer season. Silly to make such a long migration to only stay for the first bloom of flowers.

But now they seemed to be migrating in the right direction, much further south than I typically go, but a moving rock isn't something I see often.

Now I am right overtop of it, the pillars of steam are even more black than I had imagined.

As I swing in closer I notice a group of gulls on the other side of the rock. Their raucous calls carry over the wind as they swoop and dive, narrowly missing each other.

I move closer and find a gull flying a little higher than the rest.

"What are you diving for?"

"For bread, the young no-wings are throwing some in the air to watch us dive and fight each other." He seemed preoccupied spying two young things on the side of the rock, tossing bits of something into the air and exclaiming as the gull's dove to grab at it.

"Whats bread?"

The gull let out a grating laugh.

"You really are just a chick, bread is no-wings food. And they have so much of it that they throw it at us for amusement sometimes. "

"Are those no-wings?" I stared at the things, not like any animal I'd seen up north, they were pale like seals but had strange coats, and they seemed to have different colours all over.

The gull seemed amused by my lack of knowledge.

"Ayy, they are. You'd do best to remember those things, they're all over."

"Not where I'm from."

"Well, where ever you're from they'll probably be there soon too. They make these things they float on to travel farther than a seal can swim."

"You mean they made this moving rock?"

"Ha! Moving rocks they are, they sink just as fast too, saw it happen once, on a much smaller vessel though. And the no-wings have no way to fly back, as great as they are at building things, they don't fare well in the water."

Down below the gulls begin screeching again as the young no-wings toss up a final array of bread.

Without another word, the gull swoops down calling out to others.

"Back off you greedy beaks!"

He swoops down, bread occupying his mind more than anything else.

I watch as the gulls hover over the small no-wings, and soar into the air with their catch as they point and cry out. The no-wings seem to grow bored of the spectacle, continuing on the wide ledge they had been standing on. The gulls rested on the rock, on a convenient branch that ran around its length, eating their bread. I followed the no-wings.

I stayed a distance, keeping up with the speed of the rock and the stride of the two young ones. I always thought it so unfortunate when I saw the elk who could only roam on the ground, but these are most unfortunate, not even able to keep up the graceful trot of the deer or the wolves I see from time to time.

They continue on their path, stopping to lean on the branch, and gaze out. Other no-wings moved about, bigger ones, adorned with different colours, strange feathers or fur, or whatever you might call it.

Most seemed aimless, not concerned with hunting at all, I wonder where they find their bread. Others seemed preoccupied, carrying large woven grasses and things. They must be building nests.

I was so fascinated with their movements and their occupations that when the rock let out a screech the likes of which I had never heard I nearly fell out of the sky.

In fact, I did a little, and the gulls tearing into a series of their screeching laughter.

"Careful there chicky, the boat likes to let you know who's boss!"

The gull from before called out, laughing the loudest of the bunch.

I soared up higher to avoid their calls.

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, I soared higher and higher, enjoying the frigid air, and the light all around me. I saw the moving rock down below me, filled with all the no-wings with their strange feathers, and their bread.

I stayed up there for a long while, as the sky went from pink, to orange and red. Then finally fading into a deep violet as nighttime encroached on the deep seas.

I never fly at night, not when I can help it. Something I learned from my mother long ago when I was just a nestling.

"Never fly after the sun goes below the waves. The sea is unpredictable in the dark." She would say before my wingspan was even as big as the nest.

But the no-wings, if they did control this rock, seemed to have no qualms. It moved at the same speed as ever, steady and sure.

The gulls down below seemed to be taking advantage of the no-wings moving rock, taking post near the top, opposite the wind side by one of the large pillars that spewed the black steam.

Not wanting their squawking company, I made my way nearer to the far end. And found myself a cozy perch behind one of the many jutting pieces at the top of the rock. I settled down, away from the breeze and all the commotion from the front of the ship.

I was there not half a motion of the stars when the two fledgling no-wings from earlier appeared over the edge of a jutting in the rock. They were quite high up for young ones, especially since they couldn't fly.

They had with them a large bundle of sorts. They unpacked it, wrapping themselves up in large squares of something that looked similar to what grew on their body in place of feathers. They huddled together and pulled out a cylinder that was filled with something steaming. And, more bread. They really did have a lot of it.

Seeing they didn't even notice me, I settled down again and listened to their low rumblings, not a sound like any bird I'd heard. Closer to how the elk sound when they call each other.

"It's so cold up here." The smallest one wrapped in tighter in it's strange feathers.

"We have to keep moving otherwise the steward will find us. He almost caught us down in the hold the other night. He'll never find us up here." The bigger one said this while huddling in closer.

The small one answered with a shaking all over.

"Don't worry, just for tonight, then we'll move again, and find somewhere inside. Maybe one of the maids will help us again. They seem to have a sweet spot for you."

A giggle from the smaller one.

"It's true, why do you think they give you all this bread."

"Well if you acted nice to them..."

"You're the nice one, I'm the tough one. That's our thing, I'm not about to mess it up if it works. It's only a little while longer to New York anyways, then I'll find a job, there's supposed to be lots over there even for kids. Then we'll be fine."

"We're always fine."

"That's right, but you certainly don't make it easy. With your eyes, I'm afraid one of those kitchen maids is going to try to steal you from me."

Another giggle. "No one can steal a person."

"Yeah, don't you forget that when they bribe you with all the pastries you can eat."

They spoke quieter after that, I thought they had fallen asleep in their nest. And I followed suit, shutting my eyes in my little nook on top of the moving rock a few wingspans from two no-wings. All of us sleeping through the icy night sky.

. . .

I was on my perch, half aware of the world around me when the steady sway of the rock stopped. I could feel my bones shake with the entire rock, to my core I could hear a grating screeching as I'd never heard before. The rock always made strange noises, loud ones, but this one did not follow the usual steady creaks and moans.

The young no-wings seemed to sense it too, they sat bolt straight in their nest.

"Wait here." The larger one left the smallest one, bundling it closer into the nest.

I waited with the younger one as long as I could. I could hear the calls of the gulls at a distance, strange at such a time in the night. And more noises seemed to continue.

The noises of this rock were so foreign to me, but fear is something that can be seen as clearly as the sky under my wings. And it was all over the no-wings.

I decided I had had enough of this perch, I set off and heard the no-wing exclaim behind me.

The length of the rock seemed relatively quiet. Large no-wings moved swiftly down its length, and a few others seemed to be appearing curiously from inside. Just how many were hidden inside its caverns?

I flew up to the source of the screeching, and towards the gulls that had been circling the air since.

The calm from the back of the rock was another world compared to this. No-wings swarmed up to the edge, mostly large ones with stiff black feathers. The air felt filled with commotion, but not fear.

If it was fear, I would know what was going to happen, but I don't.

I fly closer to the gulls, hoping they might know more than me.

"What is making the no-wings swarm like this?" I ask the nearest gull.

He swoops in closer to me, a screeching laugh in his throat.

"The same thing that made the metal scream."

"The metal?"

"This ship, it is clumsy, too big to manuevre in the skies and on the waves like us. It has run into that floating ice there."

For the first time I distinguish an ice island, the kind to rest on during long days of flying over frigid waters. It seems attached to the rock, inseperable except for it's color, one glinting light, one absorbing it.

"And now, chicky, you get to see what happens when a rock this big sinks."

The gulls continue their sqawking for a time, settling low on the ice island that had stood sullenly in the clumsy rocks way.

I fly the length of it again.

And I can sense it now, the fear, just as I have before. Right before an elk is torn down in a hunt, the feeling right before a storm.

It is building down there on this rock, and there's no stopping it.

No-wings swarm out from it's depths, more than I ever could have imagined in there. Every inch of it's surface seemed to be crawling with then and more spill out from it's nooks and crannies.

The sounds are unlike anything I had heard before. A cacophony of deep shrieks, and screams, and wails.

I flew up, and down the length of that rock. Up and down, watching. And as I watched, it split in two, how a thing so large could do that I might never know, and have never seen such a thing since.

My wings grew weary, my ears pained by the noises.

I flew up to the top of that icy island, to see the spectacle.

I sat and I watched as the rock broke into too many pieces to count. The no-wings sprawled across the waves, some in tiny rocks floating away, some bobbing in the waves like birds at rest.

Just as I could finally feel my eyes drooping with exhaustion, my head tucking into my chest, I saw the last end of the boat dip into the sea.

And I could be mistaken, but I thought I saw two little things huddled at its tip as it disapeared into the dark, cold waters.