Flight Risk
By Teresa Balin
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Flight Risk
Copyright © 2012 by Teresa Balin
This ebook is listed for your personal enjoyment only.
***
Leaves were swept off of the tree branches by a cold breeze, where they continued to swirl onto the sidewalk. Hunched inside his trench coat, the young man walked briskly towards his home. The ancient oak stood tall above him, watching his every move. No matter the weather, he always stopped to pay his respects towards the tree that has watched him grow up from a little boy to a man.
Every fall the leaves start to fall off of the old trunk and winter makes it barren and exposed; shriveled and looking cold. Walking by that tree always left him feeling down and he always felt as if he could feel sorrow emanating from the old tree. But when springtime emerged again, bright green leaves renewed hope. Soon after acorns would fall and his young self would collect them from the familiar pathway. Each branch would be full of healthy leaves until fall once again approached.
Looking up into the tree now, he felt odd, as though something was out of place. If anyone were familiar with his routine, they would ponder what interest had him standing there for so long. No movement from the tree was made yet it appeared that something has changed. His eyes continued to scrutinize, as he was in no rush, with nothing or anyone waiting for his presence.
Finally, he spotted the cluster of straw; nestled tightly against the third branch up. It wasn’t terribly high but it was still hidden amongst the other branches of the tree; branches that a winter storm would not threaten. Once his eyes were adjusted, he locked them with a single eye that stared back at him.
Odd though it was that a bird would be nesting this late in the year, the man wasn’t at all puzzled but rather intrigued. After several decades of paying homage to his landmark, he has never noticed any specimen living within the great oak; though he often wondered why not. Perhaps he was not observant enough, as a few times squirrels flew in and out of the branches, climbing down and racing back up to the top again.
After staring back at the eye, which he could clearly see surrounded by raspy gray feathers, he decided to be on his way, so as not to disturb or upset the bird. Casually he strode a few steps down the continued sidewalk and up the stairs that led to his front door. Digging into the front pocket of his coat, he gingerly pulled out his keys. With frozen hands, he inserted the key into the lock, and continued within.
Papers rustled on his desk as he closed the heavy door. His apartment was as cold and dark as the brisk evening air. The few lights that he turned on did little to warm the room. Shrugging out of his coat, he rested it on the desk chair and strolled into the kitchen. After pouring water into the kettle, and letting it heat up, he strolled back into the small living area. Rolling the desk chair against the window, he sat to watch, where he could see the nest from his view.
Occasionally he saw feathers rustle but still could not distinguish how many birds were there or what type they might be. Night settled in quickly and the street lights started to flicker on. With nightfall quickly descending, he could see no more. But no matter, he continued to stare outside the foggy window, daydreaming, continuing to stare out at nothing.
Not once did he shift to a more comfortable position. Instead, he sat tall and rigid, with hands nested in his lap for warmth. Reflecting on his day, he recalled how he left the day puzzled as two of his accounts didn’t balance. Blurry eyed, he debated to leave the office on time rather than spend more time dwelling on the issue. He would take another look in the morning, with fresh eyes, and be able to find the discrepancy. Even tempered, he would not let a little inconvenience leave him flustered.
The window remained black as night and he could only see his reflection gazing back at him, illuminated by the lamp on his desk. The window panes were no stranger as many times before as a young boy did he sit at this same window and gaze at the outside elements. How the window has seen his young fresh face age and stretch over time, now dry with fine lines. Though older wiser he did not feel.
He noticed that the fine straw colored hair on the top of his head stood straight up. His brows were longer and once again needed to be trimmed, an appointment soon to be needed. A small movement caught his eye and it was a spider trapped outside, slowly and agilely crawling up the pane. Its body small and frail yet he knew its bite would pack a powerful fist, as its violin shape marking was quite distinguishable from his viewpoint. He watched, curious as to its agenda.
He jerked back as a leaf was violently thrown against the window in front of his face. The trees branches waved at him from near as a gust of wind blew through, frantic that a stranger was in its midst or a reminder that he was being watched too. He wondered how the bird was doing in its nest, with the cold and windy weather a violent storm threatening. He could only picture the half of the feathery face that he saw barely discerning the round shape of an eye.
A loud whistle awoken him back to reality and shuffling to the kitchen, the tea pot blew its steam like a mad engine. Hot steam rose off of the dark liquid as he poured it into his chipped mug, a favorite left behind from his mother. After taking his first sip, he looked around the small kitchen. Not much has changed since he was a young boy living here with his mother. He had removed the small table with two chairs as it felt too cluttered, even with one living here now. Plates, pots, and pans remained stacked in the sink, as cabinet space was limited.
Thunder now rattled the window panes as he moved the desk chair back to the desk. He set the mug on top of a stack of papers that he had yet to go through. Though the television was only a few feet away, he found the remote and switched on the nightly news. With poor reception, a body was visible through static and the sound was clear enough.
Feeling warmer now, he turned off the television and then switched off the lamp. His bedroom was the largest expanse of the space, with a small bathroom branched off from it. Two beds still remained but he had long ago removed the privacy sheet that used to hang from the ceiling. Sitting on the bed, he removed his shoes and then snuggled deep into the sheets. He always slept in his clothes, as they kept him warmer than the battered old blanket, and as sleep came easily, he quickly drifted off.
***
Early the next morning, he rushed to bathe and dress in fresh clothes, threw on his rumpled coat, and with high anticipation, raced out the front door. Cold air bit his cheeks and hands but excitement left him oblivious. Stopping short of the tree, he looked up to that third branch.
It has been a long time since he felt this rejuvenated and alive. His days were all numbered and so routine that his life fell into a dull pattern. The nesting bird had become a new excitement; a change from the ordinary; a fascinating obsession. Sleeping fitfully, he kept dreaming about that eye and knew there was something unique and different about it. He couldn’t wait for daybreak when he could examine his new find.
But the tree still looked gloomy, its leaves barely lingering onto its hold. Too soon they were already yellowing with age. Parts of its masses were now strewn on the sidewalk, a mess he would clean up once home from his day. Straw from the nest poked out from its circular mold; no longer neat and organized. And the eye. It was missing. Or gone.
His ears strained to hear noise from any potential habitant but silence ensued. It was another day like all the others. With hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, he walked away towards the office where he worked, a short distance away.
The day progressed slowly, with him able to reconcile his account within the first ten minutes. The thought of the bird never left his mind. He now wondered if it was a new nest or one that was there previously left behind by a squirrel. He was almo
st certain it was a new nest, as he observed that tree every day and was sure he would have noticed it beforehand.
Reports remained on his desk untouched as he continued to ponder about the bird. It was most certainly out of character for a bird to build a nest this late in the season. He was now more determined than ever to discover what type of bird it was. But no matter how his pulse raced, he was trapped until five o’clock. Not even a half hour had passed since his arrival.
The computer monitor stared back at him. Logging onto the Internet, he visited several sites on birds and confirmed that it was not mating season for any type of bird and that most flew out of this region to head south during the winter months. He knew he wasn’t hallucinating as the nest still remained perched in the tree this morning, albeit a little bruised from the storm last evening. The daunting task of reconciling more accounts still remained on his desk and with questions still left unanswered; he sorted out the reports and continued to complete tasks until the lunch hour.
Usually he would sit at his desk and consume his sandwich. Today, however, with rushing out of the house, his sandwich forgotten, he would walk home to look at the nest, in hopes that a bird was in there. As he walked down the hall and past the lobby, he felt the prickly stare of the receptionist surprised by his unusual leave.
The short walk back home seemed extraordinarily long today as he tracked the regularly passed path. Though the background was familiar; the cross street, the pot holes, the cracked sidewalks, thorny bushes lining townhomes, he was not familiar with all the cars and people. Seemingly everyone had somewhere to go at this particular hour at the same time. Never before did he have to wait for traffic to cross the street, or watch his step lest he trip over a dog’s leash, led astray by a heavyset woman. Finally, the top of the oak tree loomed above all in the near distance.
Only his mind was starved as he gazed up into those limbs once again. Several people glanced upwards and some even stopped to see what had drawn his attention. Nervous he was as he was not used to being out in the open at this time of day. No sign of any bird but the nest still lay concealed deep within. Passerby’s became bored and seeing nothing, continued on their way.
He smiled to himself. Inward and outward he had a new glow about him. For the first time he had something for himself. He only hoped that the bird would come back.
As he left the office that day, darkness was already fast approaching. The streets, the traffic, the people no longer mattered to him. He could finally look up while he was walking as his life now had purpose. The image of the bird in his mind was all consuming.
The loud squawk of a bird had him immediately stopping and looking up. Far up in the sky, the shape of a bird was gliding down toward his home. No one else seemed to notice. Walking briskly, he hurried home as fast as he could.
Just as he approached the tree, his walking slowed and he silently approached the spot on the sidewalk where he could view the nest. The bird was in the nest, getting ready to sit and rest. And this wasn’t any ordinary bird – this was an eagle. And she was as big as she was beautiful. Just before she settled, both of her eyes gazed upon his. For seconds they stared at one another. And then she resumed to her comfort.
He couldn’t account for how long he stood there, in grateful silence, thankful that she was still here. Going inside, boiling water for tea, and setting up a tranquil setting in front of the window had become his nightly routine. He slept fitfully always eager to wake up to watch the bird, though so far there have been no sightings. It seemed that she left early in the morning to return late at night. He still remained hopeful that he would see more of her.
***
Several weeks had passed and he was getting comfortable with his new routine. Snow was now a common nightly occurrence, applying a thin blanket of white dust overnight. The days were still too warm and by late afternoon, the streets were glossy with a sheen of standing water.
After donning on his boots, shrugging into his coat, and pulling on gloves and a hat, he closed the door behind him. His cheeks instantly flushed red with the cold morning. The snow was now disturbed, with a path of his footprints following him.
The tree stood as always, only left more empty and exposed. The nest was still there – pushed as far as it would go against the rigid trunk. Elongated branches reached out thin and in apparent duress as no leaves comforted or offered warmth. Standing there in his usual spot, he felt as empty as the nest.
A small flutter of feathers had him turning his head slightly where just before him the eagle was digging through the snow in search of food. She did not seem fearful or even aware that he was standing there. His hands started to shake by his side as he tried to contain his excitement.
She had to know he was standing there just as she knew he watched her from his window at night. They were the first thing they fell asleep to and more recently, the first thing they saw in the morning. Still she went about her business, standing in one place, seeking. Then, as if suddenly becoming aware of his presence, she abruptly looked at him, spread her wings, and squawked really loudly. Flying into her nest, she continued to stare down at him.
“It’s okay, I was just watching you.” He had never tried to talk to her before and felt sheepish until he realized no one else was around and by doing so perhaps his voice would soothe her. “It’s just that you are so beautiful. I feel as if you were brought to me.”
They continued to watch each other and when his legs got tired, he went to sit on his cold and wet steps. He did not care that he was late to work or that time was slipping by faster than it felt. He watched as she cleaned her feathers and fluffed her nest with her talons.
“You must be freezing. It is quite odd that you are here.” She continued to relax, making like she couldn’t hear him. It wasn’t long before he stood up, brushed off the butt of his pants, and wrapped his arms around himself. “I must admit I am cold and now I am wet. I must get to work but I will be back. I can’t wait to see you again tonight.”
Even with the late arrival to work, his day continued to be extremely long. No matter how busy he kept himself, the hours seemed to stretch and the second hand on the clock didn’t seem to move. Several books were now stacked on his desk where he had taken up study on eagles. Her picture was now imprinted on his computer’s monitor taken at night, both eyes glowing red, she looked evil though he knew better. But there was certainly something different about her.
Ready for observation, he turned off the lights and sat by the window. She always seemed alert of her surroundings. He never caught her with her eyes closed, even when he sat here when he couldn’t sleep. He wondered when she felt it was safest to sleep. It’s been almost a month and he still couldn’t figure out why she was lingering there when it was so cold outside. There was no evidence of any other life in the nest and he couldn’t imagine the straw to be very warm. Her odd behavior continued to torment and fascinate him.
With the rising sun, he looked up into the tree where she still lay. He had started to save the crust from his bread and now lay it in a pile next to the tree. But this time when he approached, she got nervous flapping her wings and squawking loudly and defensively. He couldn’t imagine what her fuss was about and quickly backed away from the tree.
“Whoa, easy girl. What’s the matter?”
She continued to fuss, not even attempting to settle down as he backed away. Not wanting to upset her further, he decided to trek his way to the office. Her odd behavior had really struck a nerve in him. He couldn’t understand her reaction after he felt they had become closer. Maybe she was sick that would explain why she didn’t travel with the season; then that meant she would die much sooner with the colder weather. He had laid out an old scarf he had found in the closet, hoping she would use the yarn to line her nest but she ignored it.
After staring at the books on his desk he leafed through one to see if it would explain her behavior but none detailed. He knew something was very wrong and wan
ted badly to rectify with good intentions. Doing something he had never done before he entered for vacation. As he had never taken one before as long as he has been at the firm, they allowed him to take off as soon as the next day.
As the rest of the day, as usual, drug by as slow as possible, he was eager to don his coat and leave the office officially for a full week. Out of the norm, upon his exit of the office building with his books in hand, he waited by the city bus stop sign. It wasn’t often that he transgressed away from his normal routine, save the few times a month when he would buy diminutive groceries. Today, however, he was on a mission and looked forward to accomplishing it the sooner the better.
***
Nightfall descended too quickly anymore and it was too dark to get started on his project. Anxious, he went to bed early hoping morning would come that much quicker. Waking early, he continued with his usual routine but poured himself some hot chocolate. Armed with a small canvas bag, he continued his adventure outside. She sat in her nest with her eyes closed until she heard him rustling through the knee deep snow.
“Good morning.” Carefully he set the bag down and pulled out a large Canon camera. She squawked at him but didn’t move from her perch. With careful aim, he focused in as close as he could and started to take some images. He was careful to allot his time, figuring she was well familiar with schedules.
Satisfied, he placed the camera back inside the bag. Taking out a zip lock bag, he then set aside the bread crumbs in their usual place. Then he continued to stand and watch her. They both had eagle eyes for each other.
Going back inside, he set the bag next to his chair. Then he proceeded to make his usual tea only this time a green rather than an herbal. Sitting in the chair, he gazed up into the tree, hoping she wasn’t aware of his presence. He couldn’t wait to see what her routine was during the day.
About thirty minutes later she flew down from the nest and proceeded to collect the bread crumbs. He took out binoculars from the bag and focused in on her. She had beautiful coloring of white and gray. She was so big and was probably old in age but from all appearances healthy. She must be starving as it took only seconds for her to collect the crumbs before flying back into her nest. She put her head down and when she raised it again, proceeded to pluck feathers from her body.