Talking to each other, the story of the bird and the old alligator.
Written by Humidity Dragon.
To most who vacationed down in the wet-lands, ie. the migrating birds that just "had" to taste the fish during Alabama's winters, this season was a salty wind of fresh air. They had desired a change of scenery, and would trade their icicle's for low hanging spanish-moss. It was what they'de been waiting for all flight, and now here they had it. The wonderful, mild, and muggy winter with humid under-tones. But, to the alligator, the biggest alligator even, it was still too cold.
He was basking, in the morning and even though he didn't like it, he did have to admit: there was just something about watching the winter's morning. "It stays the same every-year," He heard those familiar wings, and knew. It was the same bird who'd been here to bask in the sun too, as she'd been for years now. Not so many as him, but Thye'd talked to each other long enough to finally be able to break out of the box of "nice weather."
Today though, she meant it genuinely, as a bird could. "I never thought I'd ever be a bird for the breeze, but I think I'm starting to like this time of year." She was a cheeky sea-gull. Knowing "winter creatures" where a quick way to get on the nerves of his tail. She moved in jumps, so rapidly he had to take his eyes off her. She was giving him motion sickness just looking at her whenever she wasn't flying.
"oh keep a snout." She teased. "Y'know the Weather'll be back to normal in a few months it'll go by." He answered moving his head away slightly. When it was below seventy degrees Fahrenheit, each move was an effort. "Yeah, it goes by slow as swamp-water." Ever sarcastic with this gator.
"There's nothing to get so short of breath for." She began to preen her white feathers, her white head dissapearing into the crook of her silver wing. This gator had his pride. He would never admit to the fact that he'de just been in awe of the dew of the trees hanging from the brache's twine.
If alligators could roll their eyes behind their nictitating membranes he would give her more than a few grumbles below the water to get his subject across. "If it weren't for this water, I'd be as good as a gator a few feet smaller than me." He didn't want to re-surface into the shards of the alabama winter air, but to make his point to the Sea-Gull he would.
She should have known. Winter was a literall breeze for her.
Sources:
birdwatchinghq.com
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