Alice blissfully devoured a tuna sandwich, sitting on the picnic mat that was laid out on the grass in the middle of the garden. Her mother sat beside her, eating a sandwich of her own. The day was bright and cheerful, and even the animals seemed to agree; different caws, calls and cheeps from different birds could be heard from all directions.

Presently, two little bluebirds settled themselves on a nearby tree. One of them took up a repetitive series of chirps in exactly regular intervals, like a metronome on a synthesizer turned on. It went on for about two minutes before little Alice asked her mother, “Mommy, what do birds talk about all the time?”

Mother thought. “I don’t know, honey. What do humans talk about all the time?”

“All kinds of stuff!” replied Alice. “But I thought all birds do is fly, and eat, and sleep. How can you keep talking about flying and eating and sleeping?”

“Who knows, Alice? Maybe they talk about things a bit more interesting than that.”

“But mommy! Everything that comes out of their beaks sounds exactly the same!”


Baby Bluebird asked Mommy Bluebird, “Mommy, what do humans talk about all the time?”

Mommy Bluebird regarded the human duo in front of them and said, “They talk about themselves and how to live. They talk about finding new homes to place their ever-increasing number of baby humans in. And they talk about how to destroy our homes so they can make homes for their baby humans. They talk about how we mean nothing to them.”

Baby Bluebird was astonished! “Really?” she asked. “How could they possibly be talking about all that? Everything they say always sounds the same!”

“It’s a trick they use so that we can’t understand their evil plans. Look out, Baby!”

Both birds took off swiftly and landed in another tree. Baby Bluebird was frightened and began to sob.

“It tried to touch me, Mommy. It’s so ugly!” cried Baby Bluebird.

“It’s okay, sweetie. At least we got away.”




Alice turned back to her mother with a loo of dejection on her face. “Mommy, they ran away! They don’t like me!” She began to cry.

Mother consoled, “My love, sometimes nature just wants to be left alone.”



2 thoughts on “Picnic

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