White Bars Read online

  “Buying water! Hey, Tye!” blurted Paris the toad, nervously trying to break loose from his drying mud bath. “Tye! Help me!”

  “Coming,” replied Tye while he ran to Dram with another trade.

  Sitting on a hot rock, a lizard with a bright blue tail had a cricket on his silver head and two more on his black-and-white striped back. The skink lifted his head and bitterly rasped, “Selling these crispy crickets.”

  Voices screamed all over the pet shop. “Buy’em! Buy’em!”

  The tarantulas jumped to their glass walls and began tapping furiously, but the clerk mouse had his back to them and was busily shaking the base of a long slender bird feeder. Seeds spilled out of the cage and down to the floor, where three young mice carrying cocktail parasols for protection ran around collecting the seeds.

  The crickets sitting on the skink lizard jumped to hide. The skink grinned and put his head back on his hot rock, closed his eyes and sighed, “Ah, cancel that.”

  II

  IN THE LITTLE town square, the ninth bell of the night echoed up the valley. Dram stood on his matchbox and raised his arms and spoke loudly to all the animals in the pet shop. “Thanks to all those who participated. I’ll see most of you tomorrow night, if you’re not sold or fed to something bigger.” Dram pointed to the hamster cage and said, “How about some more activity from the hamster cage? And fill the new black bird in on what’s going on around here. Tell both birds. I didn’t hear a peep out of either one of them.”

  On the center table both myna birds looked at each other’s jet-black feathers, orange legs, orange beaks, and tell-tale yellow and orange fold of skin behind their eyes and around their heads. Fife turned towards Dram and announced abruptly, “I’m not a blackbird.”

  Dram looked up at Fife and away from his matchbox full of cedar chips and smiled, “Sorry, no offense, but you’re not blue either. See you tomorrow night.” Dram closed the matchbox and with a quick wave, turned and dragged the box away.

  Fife bellowed after Dram, “We’re myna birds! There’s a difference!”

  Max, one of the field mice brokers that worked on the second level of cages, ran past the two myna birds and slammed his tail into the bars of the young myna bird’s cage, startling the young myna into a jump. Max laughed as he continued running on with a mouthful of seeds. He choked while laughing, and had to stop short. Max hunched over, coughing, then proceeded on his way. He jumped from the glass table to a large bag of dog food leaning against a shelf, raced onto the shelf and down the row of cages to drop the seeds off at a lovebirds’ cage. “No commission on this one, Juliet. If I give any more seeds to Dram, he’ll never get out of the pet shop.” Max and Juliet turned their attention to the back wall, where the other mice were pushing Dram through the crack in the wood.

  “Well, thank you, Max. That’s very thoughtful.” Juliet chuckled at the sight of six field mice stuffing Dram through the crack to the drainpipe passage.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Romeo. He was a good bird. If there is anything I can do, just give a whistle and I am at your service.” Max bowed gracefully.

  Juliet’s attention drifted to sadness, facing a corner of her cage behind one of her wings. She turned towards Max with tears in her eyes. “Thank you Max, I appreciate your friendship and kindness.”

  Max kicked her cage and scampered off towards the two mynas’ birdcages.

  Fife hopped down to his floor and intercepted Max as he rounded the corner of his cage. “Max. What was that all about?”

  Max slowed his run and stopped at the corner of Fife’s cage, shrugged his shoulders and explained, “Romeo, her mate, passed away a few days ago, and now the other birds and animals are giving a few gifts to Juliet to lighten her heart.” Max paused, looking at Fife, and then continued, “Romeo had been on the outside – like you, I hear.” With a knowing look, Max flipped a sunflower seed at Fife.

  Fife skillfully snatched the seed on the up-flip in his beak, and aggressively stepped towards Max. Fife’s beak stuck through the white bars of his cage, still holding the sunflower seed.

  Max backed away uneasily. “See you tomorrow.” Max turned and ran away.

  Fife placed the sunflower seed at his feet, looked sideways at his adolescent neighbor and said, “I don’t think you should allow these little fuzz balls to mistreat you.”

  “Thanks for the information, but considering I’m in a cage all of four wings wide and eight high, and they’re free to come and go as they please, possibly even surround me and pull all my feathers out or throw things at me, what do you suggest?” asked the young myna.

  “It’s all about respect. The next time one of them swings their tail in your direction, grab it in your beak, look them in the eye, and bite down slowly - but hard. You’re not trying to hurt them; you’re trying to show them that you’re aware of their games. Treat them how you would want to be treated.” Fife split his sunflower seed with a hammering blow. As he ate the seed he looked at the young myna bird and added, “You have to be creative with your tactics.”

  “Yeah, right,” agreed the young myna sarcastically.

  Fife hopped over to his water dish and took a swipe at it with his wing. Water splashed out through the bars and on to the floor below. “Does Ms. Roberts expect me to bathe in this little plate?”

  “It’s for drinking.” The young myna asked curiously, “Max said that you’ve been on the outside? Is that true?”

  “Yep,” Fife put his beak in his food tray at the base of his upright feeder and shook his beak back and forth. Seeds flew in every direction, and he asked, “Does this woman think you and I are vegans or something?”

  “What’s it like? I mean, do you like it?” questioned the young myna.

  “What? The outside world? Love it,” Fife replied. He rammed his beak into his white beak board and split it in half. “On the outside, every day is filled with exciting new changes and experiences; that’s important to me. It makes me feel a part of the world, rather than just waiting around like we’re doing now.”

  The young myna sighed. “Romeo used to tell me stories of his adventures outside. He escaped for awhile before I knew him and Juliet. After exploring the neighborhood, he came back to be with his mate. I always thought he was making up the stories. I enjoyed them anyway.”

  “Uh huh. I’ll bet.” Fife lifted and dislodged his wooden perch with his head and let it fall to the floor of his cage. He turned his attention to a miniature brass bell hanging in the corner of the cage. He looked up inside the bell, oblivious to the young myna bird. Fife held the ball firmly in his beak and pulled back, tearing out wire, bell and all. With a quick flick, he flung the bell and wire perfectly through his bars and into a nearby fish tank. A big fish named Jack Dempsey saw something hit the surface water of his tank and he went for it. The bell and wire disappeared in his mouth. Fife laughed and shook his head. He looked over to the young myna bird, who was watching with his mouth open in awe. Fife went about his business, walking around his cage looking at his surroundings.

  The young myna asked again, “So, do you think you’ll return to the outside world?”

  Still searching his cage, Fife responded, “It’s just a matter of time, even though we don’t have much.”

  “No, I suppose you’re right. We only live so long,” the young myna concluded.

  Fife countered with an upbeat confidence, “Twenty-five or so years. That’s not bad for a bird.”

  The young myna watched his new friend as he tugged at a bar where it fastened to the base of his cage. He tugged at another bar and huffed in frustration. Fife moved to a corner and began looking and tugging at each bar as he moved around his cage to see if any were loose. He stopped and looked at the young myna, “What’s your name?”

  “I don’t have a name,” answered the young myna.

  “If we are going to be neighbors and possibly partners, you need a name. I have to call you something. What did Romeo call you?” asked Fife.

  “Hey,
” said the young myna bird. “Partners in what?”

  Fife looked surprised, “What? That’s it? He called you, Hey? That’s not a name.”

  “Yeah, I know. The only names I know are the names of these animals here in the pet shop. Maybe one other; Romeo spoke of a legendary bird, a falcon; he called him, I think, Soren. He kept promising to tell me a story of the bird, but he never got around to it.”

  “I don’t know that particular bird, but I’m familiar with falcons and the stories of them. They’re very powerful birds, and to many caged birds, they’re a symbol of freedom and bravery. They are very fast flyers, the fastest some say. Humans and some falcons get along very well; they have some kind of understanding.” Fife thought for a moment. “Maybe it would be all right if I called you Soren while we’re here. You can change it later if you like,” offered Fife.

  “Soren, that sounds fine. I like it,” said Soren contently.

  “Soren, it’s my pleasure to meet you,” expressed Fife.

  “Fife, likewise,” agreed Soren.

  Fife looked again at the bars of his cage. “Unfortunately, I have a fairly new cage. How’s yours?”

  “Same one I’ve always had. Why? What are you looking for?” asked Soren.

  Fife crossed his cage close to where the young myna bird stood watching. Fife looked at Soren and said softly, “A way out.”

  Soren stared, stunned. He pointed his wing through the bars between the cages. “Out there? Now? You just got here!”

  “Yes, I did just get here, but no, not out here between the cages. I want to go back out there, and I want to take you with me. That’s why I’m here.” Fife paused briefly, and then began again. “Soren, when I was about your age, maybe a little younger, I was bought by a pair of twins. They took me home to their house and put me in a cage, no different than these cages. They treated me well for a long time, plenty of food, bugs and worms and stuff, water to drink, a big bath tub, and a clean cage. The twins, a boy and a girl, played with me and taught me many words. They introduced me to their friends and would let me out to hop around in their room. My wings were periodically clipped so I couldn’t fly away. I wouldn’t have, but they clipped them anyway. My cage was near a window on the second floor of their house. When the twins were at school, I would sit and look out the window, and feel the warmth of the sun. At night, in the moonlight, I could see raccoons, skunk, opossums, and deer stalk the night. They would creep out of the woods when everybody was asleep. My life was peaceful, and why not? I was raised as a bird in a cage, nothing more. But things changed; pretty soon the twins stopped talking to me or taking me out of my cage to play. Looking back, thinking back, the twins got bored – the novelty wore off like winter feathers in spring. I became bitter and resentful and as time passed I grew depressed.

  “One day, Lillian, the twins’ mother, came in and filled my feeder all the way to the top, filled an extra water bottle and put it in my cage. She explained to me that they were going on a vacation, and she said goodbye. The family piled in their car and drove away. They didn’t return that night or the next. They had left me alone. I practiced all my words, saying them out loud over and over. I made up songs, anything to keep from feeling abandoned. Sleep was the worst – nightmares hounded me. One night, a van pulled up across the street and turned off its lights. The van remained there throughout the night and all the next day. The second night, sometime after the moon had made the shadows swing, a man crawled in through my second floor window. He didn’t turn on any lights. He removed lots of jewelry, the stereo, and a bunch of other stuff, and put it all in his van. He came back into my room, opened my cage door and said good-bye. For your information, it was the twins’ father. He climbed back out the window, leaving it ajar as it had been before. Then he drove away. The house was quiet again. I hung around for a day or two, just sitting at my window wondering what to do. My wings hadn’t been clipped in awhile, but they weren’t one hundred percent either. I was scared. I was running out of food so I left through the window. I tried to fly out, but went down not far from the house. I got tangled in a hammock for awhile. Eventually, I hopped into the nearby forest, where I had seen the other animals come from and heard many birds in the mornings and in the evenings. I wanted to hear and see them again. What happened in the woods is another story of stories. Since that day, I’ve lived outside. Every now and then I’ve stayed with humans in the woods, but nobody has tried to put me back in a cage until now.”

  There was stillness between the cages. Fife went back to inspecting his cage, tugging on the bars. The bars were firmly fastened at the top and the bottom with a crossbar in the middle.

  Faint noises of sleep could be heard: breathing, snoring, sleep-talking, sleep walking on a wheel, and sleep trading.

  “Jelly-roll, roll!”

  “Sold!”

  “Quiet!”

  Fife had checked the bars on two sides of his cage when Soren spoke. “My cage is solid.”

  Fife looked over at Soren, who was cautiously tugging on his own bars. Fife calmly said, “You know those stories Romeo told you about the outside world? They’re all true.”

  “How could you possibly know what Romeo told me?” asked Soren.

  “It doesn’t matter what he told you or what I know. Anything is possible out there. That’s why I want to go back. I want more out of life than a cage and you should want likewise, at least the chance to go look and see for yourself, to fly, to watch a sunset from a tall tree, and so much more. You can always come back here if you don’t like what happens.”

  Soren nodded in agreement and the two myna birds continued wiggling the bars of their cages.

  A strong voice whispered softly from the shadows. “If you two smart mynas can’t find your way out of your cages, then maybe you should consider trading your way out.”

  Both myna birds froze, looking at each other pinstriped by bar shadows and moonlight. Black eyes and flashes of orange in the night.

  Soren recognized the voice. “Juliet?”

  “Yes, I’ve been listening to all you’ve said and I thought I’d let you know I have an acquaintance on the outside who – for the right price – could come in and unlatch your cage doors. He’s expensive, but you have nothing to lose. The field mice won’t do it; serving caged animals is their livelihood. On the other hand, my contact doesn’t care. He lives independently of what you do. I should be able to get word to him, and you two could be soaring the skies in a few days. The deal will take one night. After trading hours, he’ll come in, count the seeds, and if you have enough, he’ll release you.”

  “Why one night?” asked Fife.

  “He’s expensive. There’s no possible place you could hide a large amount of seeds without Ms. Roberts noticing. It’s been tried before and failed,” explained Juliet. “Think it over.”

  Moonlight beamed through the window.

  Fife watched a shadow cross the floor and asked Soren, “Why do these animals trade?”

  Soren responded quietly, “Ms. Roberts is a nice lady and means well, but she doesn’t always get us what we need, so the animals took it upon themselves to get what they need.”

  “I’ve never seen so much confusion.”

  “It’s also a way of letting off some steam in a constructive, possibly profitable, way. I have noticed that if you yell loud enough and are quick enough, sometimes you get what you yell for.”

  “Have you ever traded before?”

  “No. No, I haven’t,” answered Soren. “But I’ve been here for some time now, listening and learning. I feel I have the values down pretty well and I know the language.” Soren shrugged his shoulders and conceded, “If the outside world is all you and Romeo say it can be, I would like to go there and see for myself.”

  “Splendid. You will have no regrets. The outside world is what you make of it; you have to live in it. But I should warn you, you will have to work for everything you want or need. No one feeds you out there.”

  Soren understoo
d what Fife was saying, and nodded.

  Fife took a moment to ruffle his feathers, then suggested, “All right, then, we’ll try and trade for our freedom. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  From the shadows, Juliet said, “I know what to do.”

  III

  THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, well after all were asleep, Juliet and the two myna birds sat awake. Soren moved close to Fife’s cage and asked in a whisper, “How did you say you were caught?”

  Fife explained, “There were three of us and my parents. Our parents were out hunting, and the three of us sat quietly in our nest waiting for them to return. We had almost outgrown our nest, and were close to being able to fly. We heard a whistle that sounded like our mother, and we answered back and got up on the edge of the nest to look for her. We didn’t see her anywhere, but there were two men and a young boy standing at the base of the tree whistling up at us. We tried to hide in our nest, but we were too big. The boy climbed the tree and brought us down in a bag. They moved us to a small box full of rags, and we were taken to a house in a small village where we joined a larger group of young birds and incubating eggs. We never saw our parents again. After a few days more of the two men and the boy collecting birds and eggs, they packed us all up and took us to a market. My sisters and I were sold to a man who just sells myna birds. I saw over one hundred young myna birds there. We were all crated up and put on an airplane. The ride was dangerous. One of my sisters broke her wing, and the other one escaped into the plane somewhere. I was bought by a pet shop not far from here and lived in a cage like this one for a little while, until the twins bought me and took me home.”