Tri-colored Blackbird- present day Sacramento, California, Female, 42 g
The colony decided to make a short journey, because we were not strong enough to travel far. It was the season for chicks, and every bird knew that flying with chicks would be difficult.
Every day, a few adventurous birds would fly out and see what was there. According to their eyes, most of what was wilderness had become living places for the flat-faces. Many buildings crowded together with tiny lawns were everywhere. The only place even close to our old habitat was a public park, but it was not safe. Little flat-faces played there every day, screaming and scaring crows off. The park could not house the size of our colony, and it would put our chicks in danger.
We knew that we had to go somewhere, but where? Where was a place left untouched by flat-faces that we could possibly survive in? Through our communication, the colony started discussing where to go. But nothing worked. And as time went on, more birds got nervous and impatient. It did not help that our colony was slowly starting to starve. We tried deciding where we were going to go, hoping to decide. But instead, pure havoc started. Birds were screaming at each other back and forth, back and forth. I did not say anything. I did not care, because I knew that wherever we went, the flat-faces were there (or would be there soon) also. It didn’t matter where we were. We were being hunted.
We have decided to attempt to live among humans. Our nests will be hidden in trees that are near the flat-faces, and we will attempt to find food close to them also. We are at least aware that wherever flat-faces are, food also follows. If we have to change our eating habits, so be it. It is likely that not many of us will make it, but isn’t a few better than none? Now, it’s not just working together. It is what flat-faces call “survival of the fittest”. Maybe we and the humans can coexist, somehow?
We will wait until the chicks can fly, because we cannot carry them, and we will not abandon them. Since we have the chicks with us, we will stop at the closest place we can find, which nobody knows where. I watch over my remaining two chicks every single day, hoping that soon they will be able to fly. All around me, I see parents doing the same. Protecting their chicks, yet hoping that it is soon they can travel. We are slowly starving here. We only eat the sparse grain seeds forgotten by the flat-faces when they came with the monsters and destroyed the field. It won’t be long until we have no food left.
Our journey begins tomorrow, after waiting for a long time. Now, all the chicks can fly steadily. They need to stop and rest, but they will be able to fly until we arrive at a safe place.
It is time to leave now. The second time that I was driven out from my home. I looked at my chicks, so young and already making this journey. I beat my wings, and my chicks followed me. We rose up and up, not looking back, not looking at our ruined home. There was nothing for us now but the future and hopes of a new place. If only there was a place that humans had never touched before, although I know that is probably impossible.
We have been flying for some time now. Us blackbirds have never really flown high, so unlike some other birds, we stay a bit closer to the ground. We have always migrated, but we fly at almost the same time every year. To fly now feels wrong, abnormal. In my mind, it doesn’t really make sense, but I resist the impulses to go back and keep flying on. I occasionally look at my chicks, paying attention to their flying and making sure that they are not too tired. There may not be much more I can do for them than try to look after them with the best of my ability.
We have reached a place filled with flat-faces. Tall buildings with glass squares seem endless, and many monsters with lights in the front make loud noises. Everywhere, there are flat-faces talking and rushing around, as if they have no time to spare. I hear syllables like “San Francisco” and “bart” and “late” all the time. Pigeons and their minimal brains reside here, feet in flat-face muck begging for bread crumbs. Aren’t they afraid of being so close? We landed at a seemingly quiet place in front of one of the tall buildings. There were many of us, so we spanned several hundred yards. Everywhere flat-faces were pointing and looking at us, mouths open. Had they never seen blackbird before? Were we so far gone that they didn’t even know what we were anymore? To me, it seemed impossible. But who knows what flat-faces think?
Then a horrid little flat-face ran forward, spread his arms out, and screamed something like “Shoo, shoo!” He stomped his feet, threatening to trample one of my chicks, and I thrust them behind me, my mother’s instincts firing up. How dare he? We were not harming him! I jabbed him with my beak and screeched, flapping my wings. He screamed and water started coming out of his eyes. His mother ran and comforted him. She was glaring at all of us, probably because she could tell (or didn’t care) that it was me who hurt her son. I told myself I was only doing it for my chicks, but deep inside, I was happy to have harmed the little flat-face. It was the least they deserved for everything they did to us. 
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