I was living in a big rustic house in the country, and there was an intense atmosphere of anxiety. Although beautifully situated, surrounded by trees, with large windows opening onto orchards and well cultivated gardens, I could not shake a sense of foreboding. I was soon to discover why. Tucked away in the drawer of an old wooden bureau was an aviary's worth of live birds. They were tied into bundles with string, packed tighter than sardines so that they couldn't move. When I pulled open the drawer, one of the birds broke free and began flapping around the room. I hurriedly closed the drawer, appalled by the claustrophobic sight of all those panting beaks and glassy eyes.
I focused my attention on the bird that had escaped. I would have to go through my bird encyclopedia to identify it properly, but it looked a little like an Australian treecreeper, with a long, dark beak and pied plumage. After flying frantically around the room, it discovered an open window and disappeared into the garden. Li turned up and told me I would have to learn how to care for the birds, as I was to become their warden. It then made sense that was a multitude of bird cages, perches, and bird droppings situated around the house. I don't know why they had been stuffed into the drawer when the previous occupant moved out.
After worrying that I had lost the first bird, it eventually returned and I discovered that it was a mimic, like the myna bird. I taught it to say "Hello Lulu" so I could surprised my daughter when she got back from preschool. This backfired, and the bird thought I was called Lulu, forever after greeting me as such in its piping voice. My levels of anxiety spiked when I considered the birds still waiting to be released, fed, and cared for. I was horrified at finding them in such a condition, but also quite afraid of them. The thought of untying them all and setting them loose in the house prevented me from stepping up to my duty.
