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Macaw Am I?

That’s just what the humans call me.

By LaurenPublished 2 years ago 3 min read
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Macaw Am I?
Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash

Scarlet Macaw is what the humans call me. But I am so much more. Endangered they say. It’s so strange as some of them seem worried, yet most are like a cancer to my kind. I’m not sure why they are so obsessed with our trees. I never see them eating them. I think they’re being greedy.

Pluck pluck plucking away at us until we have no feathers left to cover the earth in colour. I watch them from my perch. They take everything. They will even take the credit when our numbers are restored, forgetting they depleted us in the first place.

I chew at sweaty bark, bitter as I watch them making plans. Talking about their children. Complaining about their babies. What about my babies? They took them from me. Is it my fault?

Deforestation. Their other name for mass murder.

I watched my babies die, needlessly. The trees fell and my whole life came crashing down. I tried to find them in the mess but I am a coward. I was scared. My best friends were screaming all around me yet the humans serene. Just another day. I’m one of the most colourful birds in the world but my soul has turned a pale shade of grey.

I may find some relief. Finally. As I’ve made a plan.

We macaws have been listening to them talking. And by god has it been boring. “Hot today isn’t it” they say. Maybe they can feel hell warming their seat. Three of us have each learned to say just one word each.

Today is the day they plan to bring down more trees. To shatter our weary hearts once more. I find small comfort in that I chose not to nest this year.

We have got to make it clear to them it’s not ok. We need to make them see that there are other ways to live. Kinder ways to thrive.

We fly down, down, down until we are just hovering high enough for them not to touch us. We wait a moment while they realise we are there. It doesn’t smell as nice down here. I want to go home but I can’t say that now. I arranged all of this. “Wow” they say. “So beautiful” they say. The forest falls silent almost as though the wind and the trees were waiting for this moment.

We have something to say. I’m hovering firm now in the middle of my two friends and I’m ready to be heard.

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STOP! KILLING! US!

They stare at us astonished. Did it work? Will they stop? Then…

Laughter.

Why are they laughing? Did I miss the joke?

I can see my friend looking at me but I can’t look back, I feel ashamed. Something, is happening to me. I can feel something burning. Rage. Like the blazing sun on the topmost leaf of the rainforest.

If they can’t listen to reason. I will give them pain.

Fearless I’m flying into the face of danger and I start pecking. I can hear human screaming but I now feel serene. Pluck, pluck, pluck. Maybe this is why they do it. “KILLING, KILLING, KILLING!” I shout it over and over until I can’t say a thing, then,

Bang.

I have a hole in me. I can see my friends screaming again but this time it’s for me. I’m in the dirt just like my babies were. I feel close to them. I can see them now they’re waiting for me. The humans aren’t hurting us any more. I’m in a forest full of trees and my babies just learned to fly.

Macaw? Yes that’s what the humans call me. But I’m much much more.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Lauren

28 Year old mama, wife and chronic illness sufferer with hEDS and PoTS+

I started a successful business that I had to close due to my illness so I’m now paying my knowledge forward so that other small business owners can benefit!

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