PROSE – FOWC & RDP

The bluebird glared at me from its perch on the fence post like it had been waiting all day just to start something. It was a deep, suspicious blue, like the sky on a day when the weather can’t make up its mind. The bird’s feathers shimmered in the sun, and its eyes were full of judgment.

“You’re staring,” it said.

I blinked. I hadn’t expected this. Birds usually don’t sass me.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just… you remind me of when I was young. I used to think birds had secret meetings and built tiny cities out in the fields.”

The bluebird fluffed up. “Yeah, well, we do. You think this is just a fence post? This is the Capitol building.”

I squinted at the worn, splintery wood and the sagging barbed wire. “Seems a little… low budget for a capital.”

“Budget cuts,” the bird said flatly. “Also, you’re standing on the public square. Watch the granola crumbs.”

I shifted awkwardly. Nostalgia hit me like a soap bubble — light, slightly annoying, and somehow sticky. I remembered chasing birds in the backyard, shouting important speeches to them about imaginary kingdoms. I thought they listened. Turns out, they just had bad exit strategies.

“So what’s the bird government up to these days?” I asked, genuinely curious now.

The bluebird tapped its beak thoughtfully. “Mostly snack acquisition. Some squabbling over real estate. And we’re still figuring out how to unionize against cats.”

It flapped its wings once, a grand, slow-motion move like it had just delivered a very important decree. “Anyway, I gotta fly. Press conference in a cedar tree at noon. But before I go—” it paused dramatically, “you’re appointed Secretary of Seeds.”

I blinked again. “Wait, what? I didn’t even apply.”

“Exactly why you’re qualified,” the bird said, very seriously. “No one who wants the job should have it. Now go forth. Scatter responsibly.”

And just like that, it took off, leaving me alone with my nostalgia, a few leftover granola crumbs, and a brand-new title I hadn’t asked for.

I brushed my shirt off with as much dignity as I could muster and gave a solemn nod to the fence post capital. It’s not every day you get conscripted into bird government. Diplomacy with birds was a tricky business, but I like to think I made progress.

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