Finn and the Bird in the Tree

One evening dad took Finn in to the garden to check on the beans. While they were at it they admired the bright red Bishop Dahlias and dad brushed the dark foliage against Finn's face, making him grimace. The flowers were very red. They held the small but large headed hero's attention for a moment or two...

...and then it happened.

A sound cut through the evening noises of Camberwell on a Friday night. Through the shouts of joy and pain, the yells of excited children, the circling police helicopters, the reggae music and hip-hop blasting from distant car stereos. While all these man-made sounds were harsh and grating this was a sound that caressed the inner ear, that cooled the brain and made thought clearer.

Finn hadn't yet mastered the art of speech but his telepathy was pretty good. He looked at dad with his big eyes. Then he looked in the direction of the beautiful sound. He concentrated.

"Oh That's a bird" said dad. "I think it's a wren. Sounds big but that loud sound comes from a teeny tiny little bird".

Finn stared up into the tree where dad was pointing. An aeroplane passed overhead. The bird was speaking!

"Isn't this a lovely evening?" said the bird. "Aren't we all lucky to be here on this lovely evening?"

Finn smiled. He chortled. He sucked dad's neck.

Wonderful that such a little bird could make such a big difference.

Terrible that they seemed to be the only two people nearby to even notice his song.