Footsteps

The Blue Macaw

Meanwhile, Sam was walking home. He lived in a tiny apartment on Drentwood avenue, in a gray brick building surrounded by cherry trees covered in cherries.
"Cherry trees" He thought as he plucked the red fruit by the stem. "Only nice in the spring and summer... The blossoms, then the cherries... After that, they just take up space..."
His inner monologue was interrupted by a feathery swoosh, and a big dark swooping figure shot above his head. He ducked to avoid collision.
"What..."
Suddenly feeling courageous, the young man picked up the newspaper that he had dropped on the pavement and hurried after the dark shape. 

Raisin extended his wings and landed with a thud. He was looking for nuts on the ground, the ones with shells already cracked open. The church bell rang 12 times, indicating the macaw's 26th hour of freedom.
Ding... Ding...
Sam crossed the street and peeked over the wooden yellow fence.
Ding... Ding...
The sun shone on the base of the giant tropical-looking tree, lighting up the blue feathers.
Ding... Ding...
Sam laughed. A bird. He was expecting a dog-sized bat or something.
Ding... Ding...
"C'mon buddy, I'm taking you back. "
Ding... Ding...
Completely oblivious, Raisin picked up a brazil-nut in his beak and started breaking it up into little pieces.
Ding... Ding...
"Uhh... Just stay here, okay?"
Hoping the bird understood English, Sam ran to the front of the house and rang the doorbell.
Ding...Dong...
The door was locked and the windows were dark. Lily and Carson were on a cruise boat, somewhere in the Canary Islands.
Sam ran back to the side of the yard and weighed his options. He could either leave the bird there and pretend he hadn't seen it, saving him the bother of carrying the heavy animal through town, or he could bring it to the zoo, where it might belong. The only thing keeping him from walking away from the whole situation was the slight probability of a reward.
Samuel wiped his hands on his jeans and, after making sure no one was watching, hoisted himself up onto the fence. Raisin turned his head ever so slightly and ruffled his feathers, before returning to his brazil-nuts.
"It's still there. Good. "
There was no reason why the macaw would leave its best source of food. The man slid down as silently as he could and his sneakers sunk into a pile of rotting vegetables and dirt.
Muttering to himself in disgust, Sam inched carefully towards the winged creature, eyeing its pointy beak and clawed toes.
"What now?"

Lily and Carson were not very nature-oriented people, although they tried their very best to be. Both born in the city, they moved to the country to "reconnect with their roots", as they liked to say.
They bought a charming yellow house with a lovely turret, a bay window and a big grassy yard with a huge tree in it.
"Don't you think it looks... Tropical?" Had said Lily while they were moving in.
"Yes... Like, big and green... With, ah, moss on its roots. Yes... Definitely exotic." Carson had managed to answer.
He'd then declared with a grin that he wanted to start a garden.
Over the next five years, the pair tried an orchard, an herb garden, a vegetable garden and many other variations that all wilted within weeks of their plantation, shrivelled to yellow stubs or rotted on their stems. Their latest attempts at nature-bonding were duck-egg farming and compost. The ducks flew away in a days time, but the compost worked, because what could possibly go wrong with dumping food residue with worms and mixing it once in a while?
All that to say that Lily and Carson kept a duck cage in their backyard. They turn out to be important for the story, finally.

Sam picked up the wooden crate, not believing his luck. It even had a little window in it, as well as a tuft of hay for the bird to sit on. His decision was made.

At that exact same moment, Carla and Gwen heard a brisk knock. It was twelve in the afternoon, and they were sweeping the staff room before leaving for their lunch break. Gwen dropped her broom and ran to the door. Her curly brown hair stuck up around her head like a lion mane and locks of it jumped up and down as she grew closer to the entrance.
The woman on the porch was standing beside a metallic cage with a very unhappy-looking (and sounding) hyacinth macaw. She was chewing gum and fluorescent orange earplugs were sticking out on either side of her head.
"Delivery for... Carla Turner?"
Gwen nodded and handed her sister's driver's licence. They looked exactly the same, so it didn't really matter who opened the door.
"Thank you for shopping at PetsCare, have a nice day!"

Sam was halfway through the square, duck-crate in hand, when he read the headline properly for the first time. "Extraterrestrials in Ottergrove".
Samuel had bought the paper by habit. Unlike most, he enjoyed following the bakery dramas and reading about the many clubs, festivals and associations. It had struck him as odd that the stand had been so busy that morning, but he hadn't given it another thought.
"No wonder", He said aloud.
The elderly lady at the stand spoke from over her book:
"Pardon me?"
"I was talking to myself, it's just... It's no wonder it was so busy here earlier... I mean, aliens!" Sam chuckled and waved his fingers in the air.
The lady smiled faintly.
"Did you see it?" She croaked.
"See what, the alien? Would've loved to."
"I did."
"Ha! What did it look like? I bet that everyone was shaking and the pictures are all blurry."
The lady went back to her book.
"It's all in the article... It looked more like a fat blue bird than anything else, but, you know, for the tourists..."
"What do you mean?"
She raised her eyebrows and answered with her nose still stuck in the dusty volume.
"I mean, that tourists love this sort of thing. Aliens." She waved her fingers like Sam had. "They'll be here in no time. The tourists, I mean, not the aliens." She giggled. Sam couldn't tell whether she was laughing at something in her book or at what she had just said.
He put the bird cage on a bench and sat next to it, unfolding the paper. The lady spoke again. Her book was closed on the counter, and her reading glasses were off.
"What's that in the box?"
"Oh, that?" He shrugged. "It's actually kind of a funny story... This bird... "
A cold wave of realization crashed onto him and he bolted upright. The macaw cawed softly.
"I... I have to go."
"But what's in the box?"
"N-nothing... Just, ah, my... Cat."
"I see" The lady frowned, put on her glasses and reopened her book. It seemed to her that feline pets didn't usually have royal blue feathers, but what did she know?
Sam picked up his bird. He had an idea.

(March 4th 2018)