Short Story: Dancing White Pelican by Francisca Okwulehie

The Brazilian bungalow next to our house is the cradle of a big fruit tree. In this compound, the fruit tree seats in the middle of the land and by the left side is a large clearing, where a modest local bar resides.
The bar is the rendezvous spot of all kinds of people, mostly men, who meet in the evenings; to relieve the day's stress and recount many brave stories under the influence of bottles of beer and loud highlife music.
The fruit tree never disappoints in the evening, it serves cool breeze when it swirls especially on rainy nights.

On quiet nights, the chirping sounds of birds and the howls of bats coming home to rest in the early hours of the morning are noticeable.

Since the past three weeks, the government issued a lockdown to contain the spread of Coronavirus. The fruit tree has become unusually silent. The bats no longer howl and the chirping sounds are rarely heard. Local music no longer blares rumbioutiously but only the big fruit tree serenades us with cool air while we sleep.

Last night, the birds chirped and for a moment, it felt like I was dreaming.
In the early hours of the morning, I heard howls, a different sort from the norm; quite loud and almost carnival like. I moved to the window of my room, to see what brought such noise in its wake. The morning seemed to be in a hurry, dawn was breaking faster than breakfast time.
The view in the next house was unbelievable. It was nature's wonder like no other. The howls had come from a flight of birds, too much to number. If I was asked, I would say they were more than a hundred.

They were beautiful birds, with extra long beak, frilly feathers, yellow feet and sprouting cute butt. 

They flocked together, sashaying round the fruit tree. Their display was such a remarkable sight. I was engrossed in their activity as I spent my devotion hour watching in amusement and amazement.

My wonder was not to last for long.
The birds had defied social distancing and were making so much noise that the entire neighbourhood had woken.
 It seemed my nosy neighbour and the new generation pastor, who lived in the house opposite the bar had been terrified by their noise; what followed were the shouts of "Holy Ghost Fire, Holy Ghost Fire, I bind you in Jesus name."
This rented the air for an hour as I gazed in curiosity at the creatures whose party continued regardless of the godly vituperations and heavenly pronouncements of doom rained on them.
The birds were White Pelicans, it was obvious they had come from afar perhaps to hold a lockdown party that social distancing prohibited in their clime.
The birds sang, till their voices drained like a remote whose battery had wore out. It wasn't until noon before they took flight, departing to a far away land.

© 2020 Francisca Ogechi Okwulehie

N.B: This short story was written in commemoration of the World Migratory Bird Day which takes place on the 9th of May 2020. It is a story that celebrates nature and the need to preserve the biodiversity of the earth.

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