Joseph's Story
I don't remember that much about where I lived before I came here. It seems so long ago now. I lived in a shiny gold cage on a table by a window, with a view of the sky over red rooftops. Sometimes the sun shone in on me and I felt too hot, and sometimes the wind blew in through the open window and I fluffed up my feathers to keep warm. A human brought me fresh water each morning, but he always seemed to be in a hurry. However most mornings I had a delightful avian visitor, a gentle lady pigeon who would flutter down onto my window ledge and peer in at me through the glass. "Can't you come out to fly today?" she always asked softly. "I'm not allowed," I said, "I think I've been grounded, though I'm not sure why." "Have you been naughty then?" she enquired. "Not that I know of," I replied, "though I may have done something bad without knowing it." I racked my brains, but I couldn't think what. I always looked forward to Mrs Pigeon's visits. But if it rained, she didn't come because she said the rain messed up her plumage, and besides it's difficult to fly if your wings are soggy. So she said. I had to take her word for it, not ever having had a go at flying, soggily or otherwise. I hated the rain, because it made the days so long and grey when she didn't visit. Those were my worst days.
Then one morning something extraordinary happened. The human was changing my water bowl as usual when a bell downstairs began to ring, and he hurried away to answer it. In his haste he left my cage door wide open. And a light breeze ruffled my feathers, because the window was open too. I froze, mesmerized by that glittering golden doorway in my cage, through which I had never once been allowed to step, and the thought of whatever lay beyond it suddenly filled me with fear. My feet gripped my perch so hard it nearly cracked in two.
Just then I heard a familiar flutter of soft feathers as Mrs Pigeon landed on my window ledge. "Can't you come out to fly today?" she cooed, peering in at me, and then she gave a little startled cry: "Oh Joseph! Your door's open! Aren't you grounded any more?" I opened my beak to answer but no words came out. She poked her head in through the open window: "I wish you'd come out to fly with me. It's so warm and sunny today, and the sky's so blue." Still I could not answer. I seemed to have turned to stone. I stared at her in desperation. "Joseph," she continued, "don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, you can't stay in that stuffy old cage on a day like this. There's a great big sky out there just waiting to be explored." Her words went round and round in my head - stuffy old cage, great big sky, warm and sunny - and gradually as she spoke I began to wake out of my stupor.
"Joseph, I do believe you haven't listened to a word I've said. Are you coming out to fly with me or not? I can't stay here talking to myself all day!" I shook myself, and came to: "I heard you Mrs Pigeon. I think I will come out to fly with you today, seeing as my door is open." She cooed sweetly. "Only you'll have to bear with me because I'm a bit rusty at this flying business." I flexed my wing muscles gingerly. "I'll have to take things step by step," I added cautiously - "I can't just do it in one fell swoop." I didn't like to tell her that I wasn't sure if I could fly at all. I didn't want to alarm her.
I took a deep breath, then, rather unsteadily, I hopped out through the golden doorway and landed on the table. I began to walk towards the window when suddenly I heard footsteps on the stairs. I stopped in my tracks and listened. The human was coming back. I felt sick with fear. I wasn't really allowed out, I was still meant to be grounded - what would he do if he saw me here, would I be punished, would I be grounded for the rest of my days? There was no time to stand about thinking. It was too late for second thoughts - there was no going back! "Joseph you are such a slow-coach," called Mrs Pigeon, "hurry up!" I jumped up onto the windowsill and came face to face with her, then I hopped outside onto the ledge and we were together. I could feel her warm feathers, the heat of the sun, and the huge blue sky seemed to draw us upwards. Suddenly the door handle turned, the human came into the room behind me, and an angry voice yelled: "Joseph - NOOOOO!"…… And then, almost effortlessly, we were off…… The angry voice receded into the distance far down below, and all I could hear was the quiet rush of air past my ears and the soft beat of our wings as we climbed higher and higher into the sky. I couldn't believe that flying was so easy. When we grew tired we spread our wings out flat and glided gently downwards on warm air currents. After some time we landed in a garden brimming with flowers, and Mrs Pigeon showed me a bird table where we stopped for refreshments. Then we set off again, flying lower this time, circling houses and gardens until at last we came to rest on a window ledge high on an old red-brick building where she said we would find shelter from the wind. I slept more soundly on that ledge than I had ever done at home in my cage. I was completely exhausted.
Every day after that I would go exploring by myself, and every evening Mrs Pigeon and I met up on the ledge of the red-brick building to tell each other our news before falling asleep. Then one day to my surprise Mrs Pigeon announced that she had met a certain Mr Pigeon, and that she was going to be staying on his ledge from now on. She said I was welcome to visit, anytime. I did visit them and they were most hospitable but I began to feel uncomfortable at playing gooseberry. So I explained to them that I had decided to travel further afield and would not be able to visit them as often as before. They urged me to take great care of myself and with that I gave them each a little peck on the cheek, bade them farewell, and was off, albeit into unchartered skies this time.
I really missed Mrs Pigeon. I found other ledges to sleep on, but they were not as cosy as our red-brick ledge, and there was no one to tell my news to. I began to feel lonely. It was also becoming increasingly difficult to find bird tables with food on them. I tried eating leaves and berries as the native birds did but some of them made me sick, and sometimes I couldn't sleep at night because I was starving. I grew thin and tired. Flying became an enormous effort. Once when I was sitting high in a plum tree nibbling the unripe fruits, a huge bird with blue stripes on its wings swooped down out of the sky and tried to grab me in its claws. I ducked out of the way but it was a near miss. Another time I was pecking at some dry bread on a lawn when a huge furry paw with splayed claws tried to swipe me and I only just escaped. I left quite a few tail feathers in that paw but I didn't intend to claim them back. I thought of flying back to Mr and Mrs Pigeon's ledge but it was too many miles away and I didn't have the strength.
One morning as I was flying in search of a decent bird table a faint, familiar sound reached my ears. Curious, I swooped down and began to circle a garden filled with fruit trees. Nestling amongst the trees was a long outbuilding of some kind, and this was the source of the sound. As I came closer I could make out individual cheeps and tweets: this was birdspeak - my birdspeak, the language I had learned as a chick. I had not heard it for a long, long time, yet I understood every word. I landed on a red roof overlooking this strange building. "Hello there," I called, "er, nice day isn't it?" Several faces peered up at me from the building, which seemed to have walls made of wire mesh. "Who are you?" they chimed. "And what are you doing up on that roof?" "I'm Joseph," I replied, puffing myself up in the hope that they might be impressed. "Can we help you?" said one, "You look as if you haven't had a good meal in days." This deflated me somewhat. "Umm… I just wondered if you could tell me if there are any good bird tables round here. I am feeling a bit peckish, actually," I said loudly, to disguise the sound of my rumbling tummy. "If you want some decent nosh, come and stay with us, dear fellow," said another, "there's always plenty to eat. Crunchy millet and toast, succulent sweetcorn and spinach, rice cakes and eggfood, even digestive biscuits and cheese when the weather's cold." I had never heard of all these things, having only ever eaten seed at home, but I was so hungry I could have eaten an entire field's worth of sunflower seeds. "But I don't know how to get into your house," I answered, "and anyway, I'm really not sure I want to live an outbuilding. I left my last home because I wanted to fly in the sky and be free as a……as a bird. As a real bird really should be! You can't fly in the sky like me. You can't sit on this red roof like me. This is TRUE freedom!" I shouted as my stomach growled emptily. I began to feel faint with hunger - this speech had sapped much of the little energy that I had left. "Listen mate," said a rather elderly cockatiel, "those are fine words, but look at the state of you. You're skinny as a rake and half your tail feathers are missing. If that's what freedom does for you then rather you than me is all I can say. But before you go let me just have a couple of words in your shell-like…" "I'm all ears," I replied wearily. So he began: "This may not be the sky but we can fly in here, we have plenty of things to eat, we are safe from cats, jays, kestrels and foxes, and other animals that might gobble us up for lunch, and if we get sick Mummy takes us to the vet and nurses us indoors, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Are you with me? Do you catch my drift?" I nodded pensively. "So go ahead, enjoy your freedom, fly away into that blue sky. But remember these things: this isn't your native sky, you won't find your own kind out there, so you'll always be a loner, and you won't camouflage very well either, so you'll be easy pickings for hungry birds of prey." "I almost was," I answered sadly. "And lastly, an aeroplane doesn't get far on an empty fuel tank and neither will you on an empty stomach."
Just then, a door opened in the wall below the red roof that I was sitting on, and a human lady came out. All the birds began to chatter. This lady was carrying a bowl of water, which she took into the outhouse. "And by the way," called the elderly cockatiel, "it's not called an outhouse, it's an aviary." The lady came back out and suddenly looked up. "Oh my goodness," she said, and rushed indoors. She emerged a few minutes later and I saw to my horror that she was carrying a gold cage. Inside it I could see a bowl of seed and a few other things that I did not recognize. She placed the cage, with its door ajar, on the roof of the aviary. The golden doorway glittered in the sun, dazzling me, drawing me inside. I shivered.
"She's put that there for you, mate. If you get in there she'll bring you to us. Go on, why don't you?" "NO WAY!!!" I almost screamed, "I'm not getting into that gold cage. It brings back bad memories." "Don't be daft," someone called, " you wouldn't have to stay in there forever, you idiot." "Most of us were kept in cages like that before we came here," added a second bird: "We know all about bad memories." Someone else chipped in: "Mummy never makes birds live in cages like that, she just uses them for transport or if we get sick." The gold cage glinted in the sun, hurting my eyes.
"NO WAY AM I GOING TO GET INTO THAT CAGE," I shouted, and I was off. I just had to get as far away from that shining gold prison as I could. I felt sick with fear as well as hunger. I spent the rest of the day and that night sleeping fitfully on a window ledge. I was too weak to look for food. The next day I found some stale bread on a lawn, and drank some water from a fishpond. This gave me a little strength. I flew over some gardens and found the one with the aviary in it. The gold cage was still there on the roof. I swooped down lower and began to circle. Just then the same human lady came out of the front door of her house, and, shading her eyes she looked up at me. She turned and said to someone, "Doesn't he look beautiful flying in the sky like that! Just like a swallow." I flew off, but the next morning I was back, and the gold cage was still there.
The following two days though I hunted as hard as I could I couldn't find so much as a dry crust to eat. All I had in my belly was some water from a puddle, and I began to feel nauseous and weak. I spent the night on a tree branch, and barely slept. It suddenly occurred to me that I might be dying, but I was not afraid, in fact I felt so ill that I didn't really care much anymore if I lived or died. As the sun came up I thought rather sadly that this would no doubt be the last time I would see its smiling face or feel its warm rays on my back, and an unexpected tear welled up in my eye. I felt extremely sorry for myself, since nobody else did. And I felt so very, very lonely. I began to daydream. I suddenly saw Mrs Pigeon in my mind's eye, and the sound of her familiar cooing warmed my heart. "Joseph," she said, "what has happened to you? You look terrible. I should never have let you go exploring on your own. This is all my fault." "No it's not, Mrs Pigeon, it's my fault, and mine alone. I am being punished for escaping from my gold cage when I was grounded. This is my come-uppance. I think I'm going to die soon." She scolded me: "Joseph, you're being melodramatic. You are NOT going to die, I won't let you." "I am dying of starvation, I haven't eaten for two days," I said, as weakly as I could. Actually I felt terrible so it wasn't difficult to speak like that. "Joseph, listen. A little bird has told me that you've been offered the chance to live in an aviary, with your own kind, and plenty to eat every day. What's holding you back?" she asked. "That gold cage on the roof," I replied, "I have a psychological block about gold cages." "Oh Joseph, you silly boy, that's only temporary accommodation. You'd stay in there for a few days and then you'd go into the aviary. And all your problems would be over. Go there. Get into that cage, Joseph." I looked at her: "But…" "No buts Joseph. Do as I say or I shall begin to get cross."
I opened my eyes. There was no one there. Had I just imagined Mrs Pigeon's visit? I thought I must be slightly delirious. I shook myself. Wake up, Joseph, wake up, I said to myself. I began to flap my wings, ready for take-off. I knew exactly where I was going this morning, and I knew what had to be done.
I arrived at the garden and landed on the red roof above the aviary. I looked down. The gold cage wasn't there. "Hello," I called, "it's me, Joseph." "Oh so you're back," replied the same elderly cockatiel. "I came to get into the gold cage but it's not there," I said. "She puts it out for you each morning," came the reply. "It's a little early yet. Just wait."
So I waited. I flew down and sat on the wooden fence. I could see into the aviary on my left, and into the human lady's house on my left. "That's Mummy's kitchen you're looking into," said a green budgie. "That's where she makes our meals." Just then this lady called Mummy entered the kitchen. She looked very surprised to see me on her back fence. Two minutes later she came out through the back door holding the gold cage. I barely flinched. The pot of seed was still in there. She put the cage onto the aviary roof as before, then she started talking to me very quietly: "You can go in there and have something to eat if you want to, Joseph. Come on, be brave." I had never experienced a human chatting to me like this. And how did she know my name? She came a step too close. She startled me, and I flew up onto the red roof. But she did not go away, she stayed there talking to me, come on Joseph, be a brave boy, come and have something to eat. Occasionally she moved the gold cage, making it glint in the sun, as if it might help me understand better what she meant. But I understood what she meant all right. I was just having difficulty in overcoming my psychological block. As she talked on and on I kept drifting off almost to sleep, then waking again, seeing the cage, listening to her voice. This went on for nearly two hours, but still she waited.
"Get a move on, mate," shouted one of the cockatiels eventually, "you're wearing her out. And it's giving me a headache listening to all this persuasion stuff. Either get into that cage or clear off." Somehow this gruff advice brought me to my senses, and suddenly, without a second thought, I flew down onto the aviary roof and stepped into the cage. I was so tired I had to sit on the floor. "Good boy, Joseph, well done," said Mummy. "And about flipping time too," said a voice inside the aviary. Very gently Mummy closed the door of the cage, but I barely noticed. She lifted the cage down from the aviary roof and took me into her house. "Now you can go out into the garden," she said to the waiting cats as we passed them. "And about flipping time too," they muttered, eyeing me wickedly. Mummy took me upstairs and put me in a quiet room to rest.
I spent the next two days mostly sleeping on the bottom of my cage. I occasionally nibbled a little seed, and sipped some water. I could barely move. Mummy was very upset. "I think he's dying," she said to the vet, "his droppings are all white." "That's because he's starving," said the vet. But on the third morning I managed to get up onto my perch, which made Mummy very happy. She brought me a piece of granary toast which I munched on gratefully. "He's sitting up in bed eating toast," I heard her say to her friend on the phone. After a few more days of breakfast in bed my strength had returned, and I was eventually allowed out into the aviary.
You might have thought that my story ended there, happily ever after, but I am afraid that I blotted my copybook somewhat during those first few days in the aviary. I fell crest over claws in love with a very beautiful lady cockatiel, whose heart, unfortunately, belonged to another, a certain Archibald, who was more than a little miffed when he observed my brazen attempts to win his wife's affections right under his very beak so to speak. I sang to her, I strutted up and down on the perch next to her, I lifted my wings to make my chest look broader, and, when Archie wasn't looking, I blew her kisses. But Archie saw one of those kisses being blown. His wife blushed. "Listen here sunshine," he hissed, "you try that one more time and I'll peck your eyes out." "Come on then, pal," I answered, squaring up to him, "make my day." "RIGHT!" he shouted, and he lunged at me and pecked me right between the eyes. I bit his feet. The next thing I knew we were having a full-scale beak fight in mid air. I blacked Archie's eyes, and there was blood everywhere, but Archie was ready to fight to the death, and I was ready to murder him.
Suddenly Mummy came rushing into the aviary brandishing a hamster cage: "STOP IT JOSEPH," she yelled angrily, "I'm not having this kind of behaviour in my aviary! You're coming inside with me, you wicked boy!" With that she caught me up in the hamster cage and took me indoors. She put me back into the gold cage, and she didn't bring me any toast this time. She was really furious. She phoned a friend, which she always does in times of crisis. "What shall I do?" she asked. "He's tried to pinch another bird's wife!" "Then you'd better get him a wife of his own," said her friend. So Mummy, who usually avoids petshops, had to go to one to buy me a wife in the hope that this might restore peace in the aviary.
In the very first shop she went to she found a beautiful grey cockatiel with a pretty wreath of yellow feathers around her temples. Mummy brought her into my room and put her cage next to mine. "This is Sweety-Pie," she said. I turned to look and my eyes popped out on stalks! My heart began to race. She was absolutely gorgeous! I think Sweety-Pie liked me too because she began to coo at me in a pigeon sort of way and she made great efforts to squeeze herself through the bars of her cage to get into mine, then she even climbed up the bars and walked upside down on the ceiling. Mummy, who had never had any experience of avian matchmaking before, began to laugh: "Okay Sweety-Pie, I think I've got the message," and she turned our cages round so that the two doors were facing each other, then she opened the doors and clipped the cages together to make one big cage. Sweety-Pie hopped into my cage, bold as brass, and cuddled up to me. My heart melted. This was love at first sight, the kind you read about in story-books, the kind the French describe as a flash of lightning, the kind that some poet described as two halves of a soul becoming one, and let me tell you when a cockatiel falls in love, it is forever. For many years now we have lived peacefully and happily in the aviary, and all through those years I have only ever had eyes for Sweety-Pie and she for me. And that, dear reader, is the way it will always be.