Heading West

August 23, 2022
M-J Kelley's drawing of an odd collection of birds flying/heading west.

On Tuesday, a letter found its way to Jules Junebird. It was important. 

She read it, read it again and then thought about what it said and what she would have to do. A call to action was needed. And so, she began her search for help from another Junebird. 




The fourth response was similar but with a bit more of an explanation, “No! We only migrate in June.” 

“Oh…Junebird. Got it!” thought Jules. Flat linear thinking, really annoyed her.

Jules was a young Junebird and had only migrated once. Indeed that was this past June, and that was to here. Wherever here was. She didn’t pay any attention while flying and possessed no migratory instincts; she was, simply put, just a part of the flock.

She sat quietly on a log staring at a smoking campfire, pondering her problem. She had no idea how to go from here to “there.” The smoke from the fire wafted up, shaping into a scrunched letter “W.” She watched it dissipate. Then another waft of smoke drifted up, a cursive “E” this time. This letter drifted higher, upwards to the sky. She followed the swollen E until it was no more. She returned her gaze to the fire, ever curious about the next letter. An S followed. It managed to hang in the air even longer.

A call to action indeed! She knew what to do! Grabbing the stick with the smoking ember, she flew up, up into the sky. There she wrote her large smokey letters…

heading west?

She landed with joy well beyond delight! Maybe the Junebirds don’t fly west in August, but just perhaps other birds do!

Mere moments passed when six birds of various shapes and sizes and one bee landed alongside her. All were eager to head west. And one was aptly named Compass. He would lead the formation. 

“Which way is west?” the bee asked. 

A tall flower leaned into the group and pointed. 

“West!” they all cheered.

Compass turned to Jules and asked, “Why are you heading west?”

“My friend is getting married, and I want to be at the wedding.”

And so, with her invitation tucked into her breast pocket, the ragtag gaggle of feathers and wings took flight and headed toward the setting sun.

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