If You Knew, Knew What the Bluebirds Sing at You...
Fluttershy threw open her front door and breathed in deeply. The magnificent scents of spring swirled around her, creating an intoxicating bouquet. The sun shone down, warming the earth with its rays. It was the loveliest season of them all for a reason.
But spring meant duties, and so she was soon off to the bird feeding tray, a bulging bag slung over her withers. Her ears twitched this way and that, taking in all of that wonderful, melodious birdsong from every direction as those birds relished in the warm weather. In fact, just above her, a chickadee was singing in the hopes of attracting a mate.
«Dooo meeeeee… Dooo meeeeee…»
Oh, those chickadees. Smiling to herself, Fluttershy kept walking, still keeping an ear turned upwards to listen to the song.
«Dooo meeeeee… Dooo meeeeee… Doo- Hey, hey! Shake that tail my way, baby!»
Fluttershy looked up. A female had landed right next to the male, apparently interested. Satisfied with his progress, the male propositioned her with the classic phrase of chickadees everywhere. «Hey, sugar beak! Wanna doink?»
The female examined him, cocking her head back and forth in that hyperactive manner of chickadees everywhere. Emboldened, the male puffed out his chest feathers. «C’mon, sweetie pateetie!» he chirruped. «Check out my feathers! I’m fecund as shit! We can make so many babies. So many that one or two might even make it to winter! C’mon, let’s build a nest and get right to smashing!»
For a second, the female looked like his eloquent, heartfelt soliloquy might sway her. But then across the field came another song. «Dooo meeeeee…»
«Yeah, no,» twittered the female. «I like that guy’s song better. Bet his chest’s super shiny.» And she flew off.
«Babe?» chirped the male in surprise. «Babe! Babe, wait! Wait, babe! Wait, babe, wait! Babe, no, babe, wait, babe! Wait! Wait! No, babe! …Baaaaaaaaa-»
Shaking her head at the plaintive cries of the mournful virgin, Fluttershy continued onward.
The tray wasn’t far. Once Fluttershy reached it, she upended the bag, dumping the seeds and peanuts all across the tabletop. “Hellooooo!” she called out. “I’m here, my feathered friends! I’ve brought you food!” Tossing the bag across her back, she stepped away from the table.
She was only a few yards away when birds descended in a melodious cacophony, each making for a different foodstuff. In particular, a downy woodpecker gave a peanut a close examination. But before it could start pecking, a blue jay landed nearby, snatched up the peanut, and hopped away.
In response, the cute woodpecker cheeped angrily, «Hey! You punk-ass shithead, get your own fucking peanut! She gave that one to me!»
«My peanut!» cawed the jay. «Mine!»
«Oh, piss off! I saw it first and you know it, douchenozzle!»
«It’s miiiiine!»
Squawking angrily, the woodpecker dove at the jay. They tussled for a moment, chirping angrily at each other as their wings beat and their claws swished. But the woodpecker emerged victorious, flying away with the peanut in his beak. He landed on a branch and started pecking at it. The jay landed a foot away, but the woodpecker squawked, «I can punch holes in trees with my goddamned nose, you featherheaded son of a bitch! You wanna see what I can do to your face? Didn’t think so! Fly on home, you fruity excuse for a crow!»
«Rude,» trilled the jay.
Fluttershy walked away, tsking. Some birds had no manners.
She sidled back to her cottage, adding her own whistles to the birds’. She was almost home when down the path, she spotted- “Rarity! Hello!”
“Why, Fluttershy, I was just looking for you!” said Rarity, trotting up. “I was hoping-”
«MURDERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!» And with that shriek, an almighty juggernaut fell on Rarity with all the force it could muster.
Rarity waved a hoof at the robin attacking her coif. “Darling,” she said in a record-settingly flat voice, “could you be a dear and tell this- oh! -tell this bird that I’m-”
Fluttershy quickly nudged Rarity aside; the robin retreated, squawking equicidal invectives at them. “You’re standing under his nest,” she said, pointing. “Robins are very protective of their young.”
“That’s very nice,” Rarity half-growled, still messing with her mane, “but can you tell him to back off? I’d like to avoid a repeat on my way back.”
“On it.” Up she went.
The second she rose to nest level, the robin was squeaking at her. «Stay back, vile miscreant!»
“I’m not vile or a miscreant,” said Fluttershy. “I just want to talk.”
«No talk! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you look sideways at my eggs again, I swear to the sun, I’ll peck your eyes out myself!» tweeted the robin. «Blood will flow like a river before I’m through with you! Like an entire watershed!»
“But Mr. Robin, it’s me!” said Fluttershy. “You know I’d never hurt you or your babies!”
«That’s why I’m being nice!»
“That’s no way to treat ponies who are just passing by. Can you please give them a chance to leave first? There’s not a pony for miles who wants to hurt you.”
«Hmph.» The robin fluffed his feathers and eyed Fluttershy beadily. «Only because it’s you. But I’m watching you.»
“And I’m watching you. Please be on your best behavior.”
«The second you touch my eggs, you’re dead.»
Fluttershy lowered herself to the ground, where Rarity was still fretting over her mane. “I am so sorry, Rarity,” she said. “I hope your mane’s okay.”
“Eh…” Rarity twitched, but held her head high. “I’d have to redo it after our spa day anyway, it’s fine.” Her ears twitched and she looked around them. “Robin attacks aside, isn’t the birdsong wonderful?”
Fluttershy cocked an ear, listening to birds trying to get in bed with each other, listening to foes fight to the death over food, listening to mothers colorfully wish a painful demise upon those who got too close to their eggs.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Yes, it is.”
