The Flock – Chapter IV

Drifter was swimming the outskirts of the pond, paddling as fast as he could, back and forth, back and forth.  He was attempting to go as fast as he could without a sound.  He was failing.  He paused and drifted as he caught his breath.  Maybe, he began to think, if he flattened and stretched his snow-white neck out close to the water, he could increase his speed and minimize the splash.  He did it as he thought it, pressing his blue-gray wings against the sides of his white belly. He stretched his toes apart to their maximum distance and began to move his feet.  He jetted forward increasing speed with little splash.  He felt fast but wanted to go faster.  Just one flap of his wings would help.  His mind was in conflict;  one thought was telling him that the goal was less splash, less noise but the second thought was to go faster.  Just one flap would do it, just one, and the splash would not change.  It will be perfect. Just one flap so he decided to flap.

  As soon as he spread his wings, he lurched forward, and his stretched-out head hit the water.  He raised it quickly, flapped once and he started to tumble forward.  He sat down to right himself, but that decision jerked him backward.  He leaned forward to counteract the motion.  Suddenly he was on his side, skidding forward on the water and he started to spin.  He relaxed and let it happen.  He slowly came to a stop and, soaking wet now, raised himself to a sitting position and simply drifted quietly.

  “That looked fun,” a voice startled him and Drifter looked toward it.

  “Father,” he smiled at the goose that looked identical to him, blue-gray, white belly and pink bill with those black ridges.

  “What were you doing?” his father, Aaron, continued to quiz his oldest offspring.

  “Well,” Drifter began to explain.  “I was attempting to swim as fast as I could without making a sound.”

  “Son, you failed.  You made enough noise for the entire Flock to turn and watch you tumble and spin out.  And guess what?”

  “What?”

   “They turned away and continued on with their lives.  A few of them giggled and laughed.  Drifter, they think you are a clown!”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do, son!” his father swam up and stared at him beak to beak.

  “Do you think I am a clown, Father?” Drifter asked.

  Aaron looked at him for a few moments before answering his son. 

  “No, I don’t,”  he swam around Drifter and Drifter turned with him.  “But it does not look good and perception is how our fellow geese, hell, the entire Birddom, decides who you are.  Unless, they get to know you, really know you.  How many geese know you, Drifter?

  Drifter kept swimming, turning with his father as he responded, “Not many, I guess.  It doesn’t matter.”

  “Everything matters!  Everything.”

  “How do you know that Father?”

  “I just know,” Aaron answered.

  They had stopped circling each other as they had both noticed a large white goose approaching them from the direction of the Meeting Place.

  “See, Drifter, you have been noticed,” Aaron whispered to him.

  The goose was almost upon them when they noticed that it was Petra of the Wist.

  “Drifter?” Petra asked him as he stopped right in front of him.

  “Yes?”

  Petra smiled.  “You answer a question with a question.  Are you afraid of me, Drifter?  For what reason would you be afraid of me?”

  “I don’t really know.  It just felt like I should be.”

  “Well,” Petra came closer to him.  “Do not be afraid of me but you have been summoned to meet with The Wist tomorrow at First Light.  Will you be there?”

  “Of course,” Drifter answered quickly but cautiously.

To be continued…