Churros

 

            Flick dived off the telephone wire, heedless of the cries of “Wait!” that came from his parents. That man down there was eating an everything bagel, and Flick had just seen a big piece of it tumble to the ground. He loved bagels, and he wanted to get that piece before the other pigeons did.

            He flew behind the bench that the man was sitting on. Quickly, Flick grabbed the tasty morsel in his beak just as the man reached down to pick it up. “Hey!” he cried, batting at Flick.

            But Flick was already gone, flying back up to the wire. He landed with a smug smile, showing off his prize.

            “That was very dangerous, Flick,” Dad said sternly.

            “You’re supposed to wait for the human to leave!” Mom cried.

            Flick rolled his eyes while his parents scolded him. He didn’t see what the big deal was. He hadn’t gotten caught and this bagel was delicious.

            Flick often got into trouble. His parents said he was too impulsive – whatever that meant. He might be impulsive, but nothing bad ever happened. Usually, he ended up with some kind of treat. He thought he was smart for being the fastest.

            Later that day, they were heading home when Flick caught the unmistakable scent of churros. He veered off towards a garbage can, where the delicious aroma was coming from. It was one of those with a lid that latched shut. Flick hated those. Why did humans want to keep their garbage locked up, anyway? They didn’t want it anymore, so why not let members of the animal kingdom have it?

            Flick would have just flown away if it hadn’t been for the smell. Those churros smelled pretty fresh. The scent alone was almost as good as eating one. He landed on top of the latched lid and realized that it wasn’t actually latched. A paper cup had been wedged in the opening, preventing the lid from closing properly. “Yes!” Flick cried joyfully. He actually had a chance to get those churros. They were so close. Surely it couldn’t hurt for him to just pop in and out with a churro. He knew he would get a lecture later about being impulsive, but this was a chance that he couldn’t pass up.

            Flick inspected the lid a little more closely. The cup was holding it open a good four or five inches. He was sure he would be able to squeeze through. He stuck his head inside where the churro smell became overpowering, and then he saw it! An unmistakable half-eaten churro on top of the garbage pile. The can was only half-full, so he would have to go all the way inside to get it.

            Flick held his breath and squeezed himself through the opening. He nearly got stuck and had to kind of wiggle himself back and forth before he finally shot inside, bumping the cup inside as he did so.

            Suddenly, it was dark. Flick immediately cried as loud as he could, hoping his parents would hear him. He was panicked. He felt like the dark was a physical weight, pushing him farther into the garbage. He tried to fly, but without being able to see, he kept running into the sides of the garbage can.

            After a few minutes of thrashing wildly around, Flick lay on top of the garbage heap, exhausted. No one was coming to help him. He hadn’t even told his parents where he was going. He didn’t even notice that he was resting on the half-eaten churro until he laid his head down in despair. He took a small nibble and it didn’t even taste that good.

            Flick spent a long night inside the garbage can, alternately calling out for help and trying to escape. Now he knew why it was better to watch and wait instead of rushing into things. He made a promise to himself that he would always wait until it was absolutely safe for everything he did.

            Finally, light started to seep slowly through the cracks and into Flick’s prison. It was dawn, and his hopes started to rise. He heard footsteps, and there was the unmistakable smell of coffee. Maybe he would be found soon! He renewed his calls and started fluttering around more vigorously.

            There was an almost blinding flash of light as a hand opened the lid to put an empty coffee cup inside. Flick soared joyfully out and basked in his newfound freedom. He hurried home and found his parents, who looked absolutely frantic.

            “There you are!” Mom cried, nuzzling Flick affectionately.

            Dad put a wing around him and said, “Where have you been?”

            Flick explained his night’s adventure to his parents. Now, in the daylight, it didn’t seem nearly as scary. He felt almost heroic telling his parents how he had burst out of the garbage as soon as the lid was opened.

            His parents were so relieved to see that he was all right, that they decided to celebrate. Dad said he knew of a special place, and they flew over to check it out. Flick was excited to find out what the surprise was.

            He was less excited when he saw what it was – churros. He tried to look like he was enjoying the churro fragments that they had found, but forever after that, Flick didn’t like churros. All the other birds thought he was crazy, but for him, churros were always associated with darkness and fear. It always worked as a reminder to take things slowly.