Category Archives: politics

Get Smart Wizzy

After a good sleep in the old hollow tree Wizzy was awake in time to witness a flock of geese settle noisily on the pond. With great confusion and in a big flap the geese stirred up the water and mud in every direction before ducking their heads under the surface looking for bugs. Several waddled on the edge of the pond and some ventured into the harvested grain field nearby. Content with the amenities, they settled in for the evening.

Wizzy didn’t appreciate the noise and confusion but made no effort to involve herself in their business. Not that it was expected of her. Once the ruckus was over she resumed her waking routines. A few full head turns,  a couple of poo- poo…,poo-poo…. voice scales and a good sharp peck under each wing and she almost felt ready to face another night. Stretching out her sleep stiff legs she felt a strange sensation on her right side and then completely  freaked out by what she saw was firmly attached to it. There was a strange band of striped wire twisted tightly just above her grooming claw. No amount of desperate shaking or rubbing would release it from her chafing leg. Wondering frantically what she should do next she started to moult badly. As her feathers drifted onto the ground under her hollow tree one of the geese snuffed up a few and sneezed loudly and roused all the rest of the gaggle. No sooner had this uproar happened but she heard an aggressive knocking on her hollow tree .

Glaring indignantly out of the private entrance to her nest she was startled to see several unfamiliar looking scarlet cardinals and one sheepish looking local red-headed woodpecker. What next…. a visit from Old Snowy? Oddly, enough she was right.

Old Snowy looked unpleasantly preened to the point of looking like he’d spent all day at the taxidermist. There he was, in his stony faced glory peering into her private bare little home. Unable to avoid the confrontation she faced all of them and asked civilly what they were all doing there on her perch at this time of day when she had better things to do with her time. Staring her straight in the eye Old Snowy said he didn’t give a hoot what time of day it was and that he was here on very important business all the way from the Big Hill  and that it was in her best interest to cooperate. Unwillingly she listened to what he expected her to do. While this was going on the cardinals and the woodpecker stood rigidly waiting outside the entrance.

Old Snowy outlined her duties in the matter, explaining that a little bird had told him about her wild adventure way down south and her time spent with the ancient eagle, Samuel. It was then that she realized she had been somehow banded with the twisted wire while she had been out cold after foolishly gorging on over ripe, toxic mulberries and inhaling that sweet smoke from the burn pile.  This is what I get for living in a  Territory so close to The Land of Right and Left thought Wizzy.

Realizing she was now too much involved to back out she had to agree to further missions that would involve Old Snowy and ultimately benefit Ancient Samuel. Apparently she was to use the leg band in attracting attention to herself, gather information from any strange bird approaching her because of it and pass on this information to a carrier pigeon known menacingly as Splat.

The next couple of days were spent sitting tensely on telephone poles at the edge of the forest in close proximity to a  few unknown birds just sitting on the wire trying to look as if they belonged there. Wizzy had no choice in the matter and she almost despaired of ever-living a normal quiet existence again.

Fortunately for Wizzy her dark glass button, carefully hidden inside the hollow tree began to pick up on her distress. The button  flashed on and sent out disturbing vibrations to the extent that Old Snowy, the cardinals and the woodpecker flew away outside of its range of disturbance. Suddenly, the dark glass button shut off. Wizzy turned the button over carefully but it didn’t respond. However, as Wizzy examined the button she discovered that the back of the button was very rough and diamond sharp . Rubbing the band repeatedly against the abrasive surface she was able to painfully break free of it. Kicking it into the muddy pond beside her hollow tree one of the geese swallowed it whole. Taking once more to flight with the rest of the flock he was soon out of sight but not out mind. Wizzy was free again to go about her business but now was sadly aware of being royally goosed.

It would never be the same in Pinecone Territory.


Filed under allegories and parodies, history, humour, politics, social issues, storytelling, Uncategorized, writing

Wizzy’s Big Adventure

All I have to do, thought Wizzy, is just sit here on this branch and not be sick, or fall off or… die. Wizzy had indulged in something she knew was bad for her, toxic as it turned out. She had guzzled too many over ripe mulberries and was dearly paying the price. She also faintly remembered inhaling the smoke from a burn pile of suspicious weeds as she dizzily flew out of her Territory, due south as the crow flies. Painfully opening one eye she found herself confronted by an ancient eagle staring at her with steely eyes. Through intuitive communication and without quotation marks she immediately read his mind and responded in kind. So sorry, excuse me half hooted and croaked Wizzy. Please just give me a minute and I’ll be on my way. The elegant and imposing eagle said nothing but continued to stare. He was used to outsiders showing up unannounced.

After some time, Wizzy ventured a little out onto the branch to look tentatively down on the valley below. She saw unfamiliar trees everywhere, nothing like the soaring green trees at home. In select spots there were trees that were huge and lavish with enormous gold and silver leaves, hanging with lucious fruits. Further down the valley were towering grey trees with only a minimal amount of leaves lined up in identical rows. Some regular looking leafy trees proudly spread as far as they could but they were becoming blighted and infested. At the bottom of the valley, broken in mouldy and insect infested heaps were the dead and useless trees.

Wizzy considered for a moment what her life was worth to her but asked a direct question anyway. Why are some trees so beautiful here and some are so awful? No reaction. She was ignored. Knowing then that her welcome had worn thin she prepared to lift off and try to find her way by the north star to her home and native land, Pinecone Territory.

Still weak from her foolish overindulgence she ditched into the rocks below but didn’t hurt herself too badly, only her pride as usual. Take your time ,was the crisp response that came from above, from the stone ledge where the venerable eagle nested, you might need to build up your strength before flight. Have a nice peachy mouse or two. I’ve got a couple that have been sitting here for days in the sun and they will settle your stomach. Swallowing the fuzzy and cured treat and regurgitating as normal she soon felt up to the challenge.

However with the mists of night dwindling away and the sun cresting over the cliff tops the air was suddenly filled with millions of multicoloured birds all pecking each other unmercifully and drawing blood. Not only that, they seemed to be standing in a foul looking and smelling soup that had spread everywhere on the branches of the trees and the foliage below. On second glance she realized the birds were self-generating the awful stuff and it wasn’t soup at all. Not by a long shot. It clung to their feathers and pooled at their feet. Some where swimming in it. They kept up the battle, oblivious to it.

Appalled, confused and on guard, Wizzy again asked the eagle for any insight into the vicious fight surrounding them. Well, you might as well know the full story, my poor uninformed, brainless neighbour. It is this way and it will never change. It is because of my dominance over all of these other birds that you see and also of those that you don’t see. To gain favour with me, half of the birds have pledged allegiance to my amazing right wing while the other half have done the same with my beautiful left . Those on the right are arrogant, self-serving and feel superior to those on the left. In turn, those on the left believe themselves to be smarter, artistic and generous. You may have noticed the dithering doves as well but mostly they organize on rare unifying occasions in July and November, for example, and offer nuts, berries and nourishing seeds to both sides. You do the math, the doves are outnumbered but generally flock to the left side of my wing span of influence as they are more comfortable there. Gotta love the doves said the eagle under his breath.

Without warning as she was considering what the eagle had shared with her, Wizzy was approached by a tough looking pigeon full of swagger. Hey, what are you looking at?…. demanded the tough guy. Are you here to lead…. or follow? Wizzy was quite taken aback by the abrupt comment and especially when he sniggered at her and said hey…. owl baby, just get out-of-the-way, just get out-of-the-way.  A downright dorky looking bird with a red band circling his throat sneered and called her a Witchbird. Well! On that final note Wizzy stared straight ahead, nodded respectfully at the eagle (considering the treatment of the newcomers) and prepared to catch the next breeze out of there and fly home. As she did so, the proud eagle managed to say, goodbye neighbour. If I ever get up your way we will go on a real hunt together, I’m getting on and I will no doubt need your help.

Home never looked so good to Wizzy when she finally arrived the following evening. Avoiding the lure of the windfall mulberries she snacked on a couple of fresh frogs. Refreshed, Wizzy found her little hollow tree, checked on her dark glass button to make certain it was safe until she needed it again and slept as dawn broke in the clear sky.


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