Meet August, my vivacious, feathered sister. Our days are filled with laughter as we preen each other's feathers until they shine or engage in endless games of tag-the-perch. Our squabbles are more common during mealtimes when territorial disputes over the coveted food and water dish escalate. In our haven of a cage, our human mom lovingly scatters four gleaming dishes for us, but for some odd reason, we always find ourselves locked in a fierce tug-of-feathers over the same dish.
The sun gently warms the pavement, the breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers, and birds are chirping in the distance. Under the morning sunlight, Abbie carefully hoisted our white metal cage and moved it to its usual spot on our quaint, sun-dappled back porch. August's beak audibly clicks against the hard surface of the door, each tap fueled by fervent anticipation. Her determination is palpable as she struggles to gain entry. Her attempts draw my gaze, piquing a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
With a loud bang, the cage door swung open.
An exhilarating sense of freedom beckoned from beyond the bars.
As we explore our surroundings, we see various birds soaring above us. Some are much larger than us, but they are all free and not confined to a cage-like we are. Curious, we continue to explore. After thirty minutes, our human mom, Abbie, comes to check on us, only to discover that our cage door has been mysteriously opened and we have escaped. She lets out a scream of fear and panic.
After searching for what feels like ages, I finally spot a bush to land in. But as I settle down, I realize August is not with me. Where could she have disappeared?
A desperate chirp forces its way from my throat, a beacon in the growing darkness, calling her back to me.
Exhaustion spreads through me like a heavy fog, pulling at my limbs and clouding my thoughts.
Just a brief reprieve. My heart throbs with anticipation—they'll stumble upon me soon.
A glimmer of hope flickers deep within me, stubborn and persistent.
A haze of uncertainty clouded my mind. Questions swirled around like autumn leaves in a gusty wind, one refusing to settle: How had I ended up in this unfamiliar place? As the sun quietly slipped behind the horizon, the evening air began its icy assault, penetrating my feathers and prickling my skin.
Where is my family? The house in front of me may offer shelter, but it is not the home I know. As the hours drone on without a sign of rescue, I can't help but wonder if anyone is even out looking for me.
But wait, there's another house with a seed and a large container full of water. My stomach grumbles, and my throat feels parched. With each pained rumble of my stomach, I find myself being pulled towards that lifeline. The sky had turned dark, so I decided to return to my previous location.
At home, my family clutched a frayed picture of a dew-eyed budgie, its blue, black, and white feathers vibrant even in the faded print.
Grandma hastily stumbled upon several websites dedicated to uniting lost pets with their worried owners. A sense of urgency spurred her fingers as they danced over the keyboard, typing out a heartfelt plea for my return. Running alongside the text was a detailed depiction of me—my unique spots, radiant coat colour, and small size. To complete her online bulletin, she chose my most captivating photograph—a snapshot from sunnier days, where my eyes glimmered with delight. Until I was safely returned, every passing second held the unbearable weight of uncertainty for Grandma.
The once vibrant sky had sunk into a deep, inky blackness. The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a feeble glow that failed to penetrate the smothering darkness.
The tense silence at home grew heavier with each passing second. Eyes filled with worry flickered constantly towards the clock. With each agonizing tick of the clock, the seconds stretched out, becoming unbearably long.
In my mind's eye, I could see my human mother's eyes, usually so warm and bright, now pooled with tears.
Upon my sudden disappearance, various individuals within our community—from the friendly mail carrier to the diligent neighbours—took it upon themselves to support her during this challenging time.
Neighbours purposefully detoured their daily dog walks to comb through every nook and cranny.
Just imagining me, stranded and alone in the brutal winter wind, was enough to bring silent tears streaming down Mrs. Johnson's cheeks or furrow Mr. Baker's usually cheerful brows into a worried frown.
Days have rolled into one another, each as indistinguishable as the last, while I remain tethered to this unfamiliar landscape. As I sit alone, along comes a bird. It's small, like me, but brown, black, and white. It must know I'm lost, so it snuggles up beside me. We've formed an unspoken bond, my winged companion and I; keeping vigilant eyes on our surroundings, alerting one another to potential threats or opportunities.
We observe a parade of strangers passing by, some leading furry companions on leashes who sniff the ground with equal parts curiosity and determination. Anxiety gnaws at me with every passing moment, and the absence of familiar faces is growing increasingly overwhelming. Every unfamiliar sight reminds me of how far my wings have carried me, seemingly far beyond the borders of my known world.
My feathered ally returns each day with small rewards—a couple of berries or a worm; it's even found a trickling stream nearby where we shake our thirst.
With each passing hour of the third and fourth days, my family's faces grew more drawn and haggard, their eyes scanning the horizon with a desperate glint. In the stark silence, the rustling leaves caused by scampering squirrels, the quiet scavenging of raccoons in the night, and flies buzzing around in their peculiar dance offered a strange comfort.
Squirrels darted from one tree branch to another, their bushy tails flicking in delight; raccoons sneaked through the underbrush, their masked faces curious and cautious, and flies danced around us in an erratic ballet.
My mind often drifted toward home, envisioning Grandma preparing dinner at our old wooden table.
Silent tension hung in the air as they exchanged anxious glances and hopeful words, each trying to fill the void left by their absent feathered friend. The once lively cage seemed eerily still, with just one bird perched solemnly at its centre, a stark contrast to the usual pair.
Tonight, thick, rain-heavy clouds, a stark contrast to the clear nights that have come before veiled the stars. I tilt my head back, letting each drop strike my tongue and trickle down my parched throat, bringing a wave of refreshment with every swallow.
For five sunsets and sunrises, unfamiliar surroundings replaced my familiar comforts as I found myself lost. Today I saw a couple walking their golden retriever, always at her heels, on their usual morning stroll.
The sidewalk's edge perched precariously with a small bird, its feathers glittering in the morning sunlight. The lady walking the dog looked over and saw me sitting under the bushes. With hurried steps and a fluttering heart, she rushed home to fetch a leftover cardboard box.
My tiny heart pounded in my chest as she approached, fluttering my wings without taking flight, frozen between fear and hope. I cocked my head to one side, eyeing this towering figure with wary curiosity.
With whispers and coaxing movements, she slowly won my trust. With resolve shining in her eyes, she brought me into her home—a temporary refuge until my family could be found.
With the wind thrashing against my face and the ground diminishing below me, I realized I had flown eight blocks away from the warmth of my home.
Grandma sat down at her computer and noticed a flashing button on her screen. As she clicked on it, she noticed the word bird. Excited and skeptical, she read this message. In front of her eyes was a picture of a cardboard box, inside which was a bird. She wanted to know if this was the missing bird. Excitedly, she replied quickly that it was. It was James. It was me.
Stretching my wings beyond the confines of my cage for the first time, the distance I had covered astounded me. My wings trembled with fatigue as I dropped into a graceful landing inside my cage, a bubble of joy swelling in my chest despite the exhaustion. At once, Grandma, her face flushed with excitement, dashed off towards Abbie's room to rouse her from her slumber.
Her eyes sparkled with uncontained joy and excitement; the corners of her mouth twitched up in an irrepressible grin. Before going to her room, she texted her a picture of us both in the cage. It confused her, thinking it was an old picture of us.
Grandma tapped her foot impatiently while she listened to the phone ringtone, mentally rehearsing, again and again, the words that would relay the good news.
Is this an old photo? You two haven't changed a bit. Grandpa remarked. It was only then that he realized I was home. He hadn't read the text that I'd sent ten minutes ago.
It was as he uttered those words that reality hit him—I was indeed home.
The only injury I had was to one of my claws. It broke off. Mom called the vet's office to have me looked at. She was to take me tomorrow.
As dawn broke, a sense of unease filled me; it was the day we were scheduled for my check-up.
The familiar thud of our cage being placed in the backseat sends a shiver down my spine—it signals the journey to the pet doctor.
We arrived at an intimidating brick structure, bustling with nervous energy from other animals awaiting their turn. I marvelled at the hodgepodge of creatures gathered in one place—a grumpy old cat hissing at a playful puppy, a parakeet nervously fluttering its wings, a snake in a glass box, and a couple of cats.
As soon as the nurse cracked open our cage door, I instinctively shrunk back behind August. My heart pounded against my rib cage, begging me to avoid any contact with this alien environment.
But soon enough, gentle hands reach for me and hand me over to a doctor who examines me with care. Hands cradled me as if I were made of glass, transferring me to a doctor whose eyes scrutinized every detail. Her eyes scan meticulously over each feather, a soft sigh of relief escaping her lips when she finds them intact. Her hands cradle me gently as she eases me back into the familiar confines of our shared cage.
Upon hearing the veterinarian's assurance of my perfect health, Mom let out a deep sigh, her tense shoulders finally relaxing.
She stared in disbelief at the impossible scenario before her. Science, logic, and reason–all discarded in the face of this phenomenon.
I am slowly returning to my old self, much to the joy and relief of my family. This serves as a reminder that miracles can happen. Every small triumph, every regained piece of myself, seemed impossible just weeks ago. Yet here they are—tiny miracles stitched together by time and perseverance.
I'm clawing my way back to who I once was.
The End
As James navigates through the outside world, he encounters new challenges and makes unexpected friends. But as the days go by, he misses his family and longs to return home. Just when all hope seems lost, a kind-hearted couple out walking their dog stumble upon James and bring him back to his worried family.
Don't miss out on this charming book that will leave you smiling from ear to ear. Pick up your copy today and follow James on his unforgettable journey.