Bellbird

 

I entered that forest with confidence of where I came from and where I was going. Although many birds met during my travel had told me to be careful of the low clouds that significantly reduced the visibility between dense gigantic trees, I was not scared. For the first time in my life, I was truly aware of my capability and of my body. Naively, I was convinced that I had lived enough to protect myself from hurting and that I would have been able to face any challenge. My first thought was that the forest was not as difficult as it had been described to me. I easily survived the first couple of days and, although I must admit that it was quite cold at night and I often found myself shaking my feathers, I did compensate the cold with great catches of nutritious insects. Slowly I started to engage in flights and games with other birds, which made my days go fast with excitement. I loved the rare sun so much, that letting it go away pained my soul with beautiful sunsets. 

I did love my life, the speed, the independence and the learnings from the trees of my sights. 

One intense afternoon, preceding a full moon night, the clouds were so thick that my eyes were overwhelmed, my senses weakened, as much as to make me lose contact with the magnetic field of the earth. I was on the straight road that leads to panic, when suddenly, coming from deep inside the forest, I heard the call of a bird I had never met before. It started off as rough, almost angry at the world, weak, and it turned into a sweet sound of hope, beautiful, positive and strong. It almost felt like it could not have come from one single bird, one single personality. Lost in the perception of those sound waves, I forgot my fear and started flying restlessly on the look for that bird. It took me weeks to find it singing high up of a ficus tree. To my disappointment, it was not a particularly good-looking bird, but the white neck and head made its voice stand out even more as to tell the world: "look! Here is where the vocal cords are carefully guarded". When I approached the bird, I was not really thinking about its possible reaction. From the look of its eyes, though, I could tell the bird had expected me all along, but It clearly did look surprised that such a different bird as me had shown up. It was a bird that knew how beautiful and powerful its singing was. My showing up to it, was a result of it and, maybe, partly a result of my insatiable curiosity. Spending time together, we came to realize that our differences were less than our similarities and I came to realize that my singing was not as bad as I thought it was. 

My life was even more exciting now, the laughing, the vulnerability and the learnings from the trees of my heart. The shared happiness and complicity did not last long, slowly killed by ego and overthinking. It was in this vicious circle, that I soon realized the bellbird had started to disappear, its visits more rare and its singing further away. I took this sign with sadness, desperately looking to get closer to it once more.   I was behaving like an addict, but deep underneath my bird body, I was confident of where I came from and where I was going. My confidence could not help confusion and fear, the clouds of the forest enhance. As fast as it had come across my life, the beautiful sound of the bellbird faded away - like the summer wind or the winter rain. Once so present, and then so absent, the right timing, something always to be missed.

When I am lost in the forest, I still sometimes hear that beautiful call, but I am no longer sure if it is real or just a sweet memory of the past. I now know, months afterwards, that what that bird and me had shared was something similar to a mature imprinting. I could doubt now whether that bellbird was truly what I had pictured it to be in my head, if its singing was truly as magical, or if, caught in the imprinting, I was just fascinated by the first singing that had took me out of fear. I decide not to doubt at all, instead, to hold this encounter precious in my heart of creative Oropendula.