The Third Wheel

Jun 9, 2010 10:33am

When I stepped down on to a public access dock a curious event took place. A ring billed herring came at a terrified pace from beneath it. This seagull tied to a string tied to a tree that had used the dock as the only refuge of safety went about fifteen feet to the threshold of its restraint. I pulled the captive, the aviator in by this fishing line, which has an uneasy vibration and uncomfortable feel, refreshing each foot nearing me with the reiteration that it is for the good, that this is the humane thing to do. How a pediatrician with a shot must do every day. Naturally the bird was hissing something you could see the mirror of the dinosaur in. Unnaturally it stopped, tame and docile. It stared at me as I worked the string between the feathers as if it knew it was for the good. As if it knew I was helping with a strange faith. When unfettered and unrestrained, it stayed. I made several attempts to scare the thing out toward the lake so that he/she might not remain threatened along the shore yet unable to fly.

Then finally it kicked and peddled a paddle. And it was the only bird. The only bird there beneath the cloud gray sky going toward an unknown center. Until, from every direction came what must of been forty seagulls on previously a birdless sky. Out from all things cumulus and all directions atleast forty or more. They circled and called and circled and called as if beckoning the injured to fly again, to join them.

In wonder, in part awe, in great calm I knew then…Everything is going to be okay. and it always was. Somehow.