Bird Watching
Huxley watched the great blue heron pick it’s way aristocratically across the farm pond like he owned it.
“I see Brian is settling in well.” Bill wrapped an arm around Huxley’s waist as soon as Huxley had taken the coffee he offered.
“Seems to be. I think Hubert has some reservations.”
“Hubert has reservations about me, still.”
Even as they watched, Hubert made a splashy show of entering the pond and sailing directly across Brian’s path.
Brian watched him without moving, not intimidated, but not aggravated enough to do anything about it, either.
On the shore, Funk cawed at them both, flapped his wings, and hopped around in the goat-cropped grass at the edge, as if he was telling Brian not to take Hubert’s bullshit.
Huxley laughed. “You’d never know that crow can’t even get off the ground.”
“To be fair, neither can Brian. They think that’s why he wasn’t thriving at his last refuge. They thought being around others of his species would help him, but it only depressed him when he couldn’t fly south with them.”
Huxley nodded and sipped his coffee. “Other birds who can’t fly seem to be more acceptable.” As he said that, Brian unfurled his one wing, knocking Hubert in the head with it as he passed again.
An infection from a wing bone, severely broken when he’d tried to escape a tangled fishing line, had meant the only way to save the bird’s life had been amputation of the entire wing.
Under normal circumstances, he would have been euthanized, but now that Huxley had his full licence and his refuge had been inspected and even the nit-picking MNR hadn’t been able to find fault with his set-up, Brian had been given a chance to live his life in as natural an environment as possible.
“I have to ride up the creek and count fish today. You in?” He turned to Bill, who grinned at him.
“I am.”
Truth told, the opportunity to restock the area with native fish through the Jackson farm’s creek network and ponds had been a big factor in the MNR giving him his licence. He could have his sanctuary if they got the chance to reintroduce some of the brook trout and frogs whose populations needed to be bolstered in the area.
It was a win-win. Brian had a sustainable food source, and the world had more fish, frogs, and all of the ensuing wildlife that they sustained.
“You know, I think Hubert will get used to Brian.” Huxley sipped his coffee, a wispy grin on his face. “And to you. Eventually.”
“Mmm.” Bill blew across the top of his coffee cup. “I do like it here.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Huxley laughed and slung his arm over Bill’s shoulders.
“Joey loves my ugly little house, too,” Bill hinted.
“She’s probably just happy to be out from under her big brother’s roof once in a while. I know Matthew and Leland are nice guys and all, but they are insufferably smug with all that oozing happiness.”
“Also their cat is still an asshole and barely tolerates her.”
“That cat doesn’t tolerate anyone but Leland.”
Bill smiled and leaned into Huxley. “What can you expect from an animal named Deth Mittens?”
“So.” The displacement of Huxley drawing in a deep breath had Bill tightening his arm, waiting, because Huxley always pulled in that breath on the verge of dropping huge news, or asking something important. And the fact Bill knew that made him unreasonably happy.
Speaking of oozing happiness…
“I was thinking that if Joey is happy hanging out at your place and feeding your animals when you’re here…”
“Yes?”
“And I know you have to be around there to keep an eye on things, because it’s a sanctuary, too.”
“Technically, she’s feeding foster cats. The sanctuary is at the clinic, and there are always vets there, but yes, I am following your thought.”
“Are you?”
“I am.” Bill moved away enough to see Huxley, alternately watching him and the birds’ antics at the pond. He was getting used to the way Huxley needed to build up to saying the important things. He could wait.
“So if Joey is happy there and you’re happy here…”
Bill smiled.
“Oh, for fuck sakes.”
“Yes, Hux.” Bill grinned at him. “I’ll move in. I’ll sublet my place to Joey, so she doesn’t have to worry about having to go back to Matthew’s, and I’ll live here. With you and your crazy birds.”
“Yeah?” Huxley’s wild, crooked grin made Bill’s heart sing.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Bill snorted. “Yeah. It’s good.”