081/100 aka 221/365

THE BIRDS
Word Count: 258

I listened to what the cardinal had to say. He was insistent, chirping his little red heart out until I stopped weeding and heard him out. But what he said was just more gossip and I chased him away.

There was no way my boyfriend was cheating. He just wouldn’t have time. He leaves the house at 6:30 in the morning and works a twelve-hour day.

My sister’s the one who started the rumor and I think that’s mean. She’s in a bad marriage and thinks that every man is going to do you wrong and doesn’t like my boyfriend very much. She doesn’t like any man very much.

When the hummingbird came to me one morning and hummed the same story as the cardinal chirped I slapped him down so hard he lay there blinking up at me and I thought he was a goner. I felt terrible. I poked him with my finger, picked him up and cupped him softly in my hands. He was warm with little cold feet. He didn’t move but trembled, his heart beating against my fingers like a buzzing fly. I set him gently on a bush and within a second he zoomed off. I felt better then.

The loud-ass cawing crows, the self-righteous bobbing robins, the catbirds mewling, all of birdland a cacophony of accusation. I used to love the natural sounds of the backyard. Now I wear headphones and listen to Willie Nelson while I pick the beans or spray the tomatoes for ugly hornworms.