Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom

It was all right to regard the kākāpō reproductive situation as being somewhat ridiculous, and Fluttershy knew that recognizing the inherent silliness didn't make her a monster. The monster sense of humor, in the few cases where it could proven to exist, centered on the sadistic.

A naturalist simply needed to understand that in the end, the only thing survival cared about was exactly that: survival. 'Dignity' was nowhere near the consideration list, and as a mare who automatically memorized every emergency exit from a new room... Fluttershy was in a good position to understand that. It didn't matter how silly she looked during her escape; just that she'd gotten away, was safe, and had survived. Plus anything which wanted to chase her occasionally paused to consider that due to lack of any adequately-sized exit windows, the shapely mare had just casually put a hole into the wall.

It was okay to find the humor in the situation. (Although she was annoyed about the mayor having felt the need to remind her about posting a sky sign. She was a weak flier, but she was still a pegasus. She would have thought of that on her own. Eventually.) And she really couldn't blame Spike for laughing: nopony could stick that kind of material in front of a boy of his age and not expect a reaction But for her, as a naturalist -- as a pony, one of the designated caretakers of the world -- it was mostly about responsibility. Ponies had accidentally put the kākāpō at critical risk. Ponies had to be the ones who fixed it.

So the expert had captured a few of the parrots, and was planning to secure more. Create a breeding pool and bring it to safety. But during the initial effort, one of the males had wound up being sent ahead...

Harmless, but disruptive. She understood that now. Realistically, the kākāpō would have some issues with hurting just about anything: the beak could potentially draw blood on a lucky strike and the talons were certainly capable of doing some damage, but the parrot couldn't hunt -- and had lost everything about what it was like to be the prey. It was much like what the expert had written regarding the wings (and that mare had said she'd been quoting a much better writer): the kākāpō had forgotten how to fly -- and then it had forgotten having originally forgotten that. Constantly trying to reach high places with no real idea of how to get back down, when the wings would only serve as airscoop parachutes for short drops. And when it came to fighting...

The parrot might wound in a panic, or during a struggle -- but that was it. In terms of any desire to seek out the chance at inducing pain, the bird was harmless.

It also went VHNOOOOOM.

A lot.

And that was why it wasn't at the zoo, or in Audu's care. In direct confrontation, the parrot was harmless. But to place the noise created by raw Horny among so many species who weren't ready for it, without the expert to carefully direct the construction of what Fluttershy guessed to be a special sonic confinement zone... that was disruptive. She'd seen the results on the cottage scale. Things fled from that sound, tried to get away, and not everypony had the mark talent which allowed them to try and talk everyone down. The mountain bird sanctuary would have been recovering residents from all over the slopes, every vet at the zoo would be seeing a full slate of panic injuries, and had nopony considered what would inevitably happen at her residence? Had even one solitary pony taken so much as a single second to think about her needs --

-- bird conservation was important. One of the most important things ever. Fluttershy understood that on the level of her mark. Ponies had created this problem, and not having meant to do so didn't matter. Ponies had to fix it.

The weary pegasus nosed the scroll aside. Glanced at the smaller one, which had the more steady clawwriting. The one exposed blue-green eye checked the window, then noticed how the lighting devices had mostly taken over from Sun as the orb was steadily brought closer to the horizon. She examined the crowd of small animals waiting around her reading station, all holding on an explanation she could never fully make. And she sighed.

Disruptive...

And yet harmless. The terms went together: not what he was, but what he did. And regardless, Sun would be lowered soon.

The care scroll had told Fluttershy that she could take some pride in herself: she'd reverse-engineered just about the whole of the bird's diet, with only minor adjustments required. But it also said she had to keep him in heat. Rimu berries every night. And she presumably had to keep wearing the trust hat, because she hadn't received any instructions to the contrary and besides, he clearly didn't trust her yet.

It wouldn't be all that long before Moon was raised. She could see hints of stirring motions within the cleaned cage. The nocturnal parrot was waking up.

She had to do what was best for the bird.

He needed to be outside.
He needed to be in his bowl.
He needed to make that horrible sound for hours on end.
And unfortunately, in order to do all of that, he also sort of needed to be conscious.

How many nights...?

She didn't know. All she could do was hope that the expert would hurry.

In an absolute sense, the problem really wasn't that bad. The sound hadn't reached town, so ponies weren't complaining. And during the day, the kākāpō was no trouble at all. Even with ponies gathered around the cage and cooing at him -- the tom, if you'd never heard him vocalize, was strictly adorable -- the most he would do was open his eyes for a few seconds and then go back to sleep. He wasn't doing any harm to Ponyville, hadn't had the slightest impact on the business side of the cottage, and represented the chance for her to study a new species.

He was also going to be costing her at least one more night of sleep, because the only way Fluttershy could keep the cottage from being fully bucked off the rails was to be there to settle any fallout. If she became tired enough, she would start to make mistakes -- and then animals would be at risk.

And it was more than that. Lack of sleep shortened Fluttershy's temper: she knew that about herself and tried to watch out for it. But the cottage denizens...

It happened with just about every companion. An animal would know if you were upset. If it loved you, then it would want to do something about that. And should it happen to interpret a bit of behavior from its pony as 'This is the thing which is making me upset and I would feel so much better if it Went Away...'

There were many reasons for Fluttershy to be careful about her anger, and one of the biggest was that it was seldom just hers.

She really didn't need any more Little Incidents.

How long until he's reclaimed?

She didn't know, and there were ways in which it didn't matter. If she became too weary to maintain the cottage and keep her duties going in safety, she would have to ask for help. But until then, it was her durance, and hers alone. She was the one who had the truest chance to understand him.

The light coming in through the windows dimmed. There were more stirring sounds from the cage.

A tired "Food?" drifted out between the bars.

The mare sighed again. In terms of direct conversation, the single word was all she'd gotten out of him. Not even a basic greeting, or the most simple expression of curiosity. Merely demands for more berries. You really couldn't build a relationship on that.

"Who's a sleepy little moron?" she liltingly, warmly asked the parrot, because with true vocabulary still on the way, so much of it was about the tone. "You are!"

No response.

Fluttershy sadly shook her head, and went to get the berries.

Time blurred like hoof-rubbed wax.

Ultimately, it was only a few days. She kept telling herself that, because it proved that the sleep deprivation hadn't cost her all ability to count.

Nights were defined by her endless attempts to keep the bird's proud mate-summoning attempts from putting the cottage into self-destruct mode. Days became the periods when Angel, on request, kicked her a lot. The pony form was adapted to fall asleep standing up and while this could be a blessing during those missions where no beds were available and Rarity was approaching her third nervous breakdown over that, it wasn't exactly helpful when it came to 'If I just stand very still for a few seconds and try to collect my thoughts, I'll be fine'. Because if she were going to collect her thoughts, then she might as well close your eyes so she could see where all of the thoughts were. And then her breathing slowed, and then there was a rabbit kicking her awake. Again.

Friends dropped by, because it was uncommon to have too much time pass without somepony visiting. She didn't give them the full details: that would only make them worry. But they saw she was tired, they were always going to ask about that, and she -- toned it down. Twilight had part of the truth, because Spike's giggling had caught her attention -- but the thaumatologist was specialized for magic research. She didn't speak naturalist, and so lost just enough details for Fluttershy to downplay the whole thing. And of course no big sister was going to really listen to her little brother, so Spike's new expertise mostly went unnoticed. Additionally, everypony kept turning up during the day, so Fluttershy was the only one getting The Full Kākāpō Experience.

(She considered that the parrot could enter heat during Equestria's autumn, thought about what it was like to hear the sound for the first time, and wondered if the zoo was willing to have Moon-observed Ponies Meet Kākāpō sessions around Nightmare Night.)

Still, they all wanted to help and oddly, none of them would accept that 'help' did not mean 'I'll help you pack up the cage and then we can get a relay teleport to Manehattan'. But some of them were capable of watching the grounds for a Sun-lit hour, allowing her to get just enough rest to prevent collapse. (Spike, who really wasn't good with the cottage denizens, scattered some feed around and then got out of the area before the beaks closed in.) She appreciated every last tenth-bit of assistance -- but she was aware of how close her frustrations were to the surface. Fluttershy was at that point of sleep deprivation where she had to double-check everything, and that very much included her own emotional responses. One slip...

And it wasn't just the noise which was frustrating her.
The loss of rest.
Even the deliberate pointlessness of the lek mating ritual mostly became comedy after a while.

It was the kākāpō.

He wouldn't talk.

...he wanted food and would make sure she knew it. That technically counted. But there were no friendly greetings. No real notice if she entered a room and wasn't carrying the rimu berry pouch. He might look at her mane for a moment, as he'd done after the first time he woke up. The narrow aquamarine rings would ever so briefly focus on the trust hat.

But then he would look away. Go back to climbing everything in sight, instantly forgetting every fall, he wasn't anywhere close to being carpet-trained because that would indicate some capacity for learning, she couldn't say he was exploring because that suggested being interested in what he found, and he just wanted to MATE. Which meant making THAT NOISE.

Over and over.

She asked him about his island. His life. If there was anything she could do. And he had but one thing on his mind.

The pegasus was a naturalist. She understood. It was his instinct. She... didn't blame him. Blaming didn't help anything and really, neither would yelling, or shouting, or screaming about how she just wanted this to end until her throat collapsed. None of that would help at all, across blurry days and tumultuous nights.

But she'd just wanted to make a friend...

There was one tiny sliver of Moon still visible, at the absolute edge of the sky.

Fluttershy stumbled into the soil bowl. She hadn't meant to, but... she'd never been the best flier and when she was this exhausted, her landings suffered. She'd come in just behind the edge, landed partially on the little ridge, and -- well, she hadn't actually tripped or fallen. It had just been a highly-visible stumble, where the only witness was the kākāpō.

The movement got his attention. He looked up as her wings clumsily flapped, trying to help her balance out again. Her shapely form rounded into itself somewhat as four legs briefly stalled out on the little incline, and then she was approaching him at the staggering non-speed of enervation. The forelegs, which had led into the stumble in the first place, were doing just about all the work.

She just wanted to get him inside. Into the cage, with some food and water. And then there would be clients arriving, medicine to triple-check dosage numbers on -- no, Applejack was coming later: the farmer would verify Fluttershy's labeling there. Even better: the earth pony could fill in on some basic dog grooming. A precious hour of rest was only most of a morning away.

But the parrot was looking at Fluttershy. At her lone exposed eye, and the manefall which blocked all view of the other. At the anchoring loops which secured the trust hat.

He was -- looking at her. And she couldn't see any light of intelligence in those thirsty light-drinking pupils, but the focus...

Fluttershy stopped moving. A flicker of consideration from her talent had her sit down in the bowl.

The parrot, who had been resting in the soil, got up.

He stretched, because it had been a long night. Turned in place as he spread his wings: at one point, this had him with his back to her.

The tom walked around the bowl. Went behind the pegasus, as she held her position. Letting him make the next move. Every move.

Then she felt the weight on her dock.

The bird was -- walking up her back, starting from the base of the tail. She could feel the talons carefully moving across her skin: four on each foot, two forward, two back. And he was scratching her a little, but -- he didn't know any better, and she was used to birds. Although there was an oddness about the movement, as if the talons weren't being planted properly.

But he was approaching her. That was the most important thing. Coming up to her after days of treating the pegasus as an oddly-shaped rimu tree which dropped off berries on request.

She needed to let him act naturally, and so she simply remained still and quiet as he advanced forward, following the spine to the neck and then up to her head --

-- he stopped.

She felt his weight shift. Leaning forward, perhaps. Sniffing at something, or feeling her mane with those whiskers.

And then he leaned his mass into the trust hat.

This was followed by an almost-immediate withdrawal: just a slight pulling back, as if he was unsure to have gone so far that quickly. But then he moved again. Roaming across her head, looking for a place to settle in. To get -- comfortable.

She felt his talons hook some of the slick, half-hidden slickloops. And then he moved a little more, shifting his weight over and over. Back and forth, with a bit of a circular motion added in. Her scalp was becoming somewhat scratched up by all of the activity, but -- she was used to birds, and learning required sacrifice. So did relationships. And he'd come to her, come of his own accord, he'd chosen to approach --

-- the movement accelerated.

Stopped.

I should put something on those scratches was a natural thought. And it feels like... something happened with the hat? It feels more oily around my ears than before --

-- a green and yellow head looked down at her, and did so while the parrot was still balanced at the front of her skull: the parrot was very awkwardly angling itself for the best possible view. The huge dark pupils blinked.

On one level, he looked extremely pleased with himself, and Fluttershy was on the verge of asking him why. But the most dominant aspect was fully familiar, and that held her back. It was a vaguely besotted sort of look.

"Hello," said the kākāpō.

It was the expression of a bird who had just hopelessly fallen in love.

And during the instant when her heart was singing and an overloaded talent was trying to process everything she wanted to say in order to keep it from all emerging at once, the bird leaned back, tucked in head and neck, then silently fell asleep.

She didn't move. She didn't want to wake him. She wanted to hold the moment pressed between gentle teeth forever --

-- but that was when Sun was raised.
And then the birds at the bridge path went off. Singing an all-too-familiar tune.
"There's a stranger on the road."

The caretaker sighed, because the peace never lasted. Her best hope was a truly minor medical situation: somepony waking up to find their companion was having stomach issues. Easily resolved. And if she was that lucky...

She carefully trotted towards the bridge, careful not to disturb the sleeping parrot. And when it came to getting lucky -- that wasn't her role in this.

Sun had been raised, and everypony's luck ran out.

Fluttershy wasn't sure whether the saffron fur had started to spontaneously vibrate at the exact same frequency as the intern approached the grounds, or if the stallion had never stopped.

Naturally, declared the irritation which normally would have been buried under four normal hours of sleep. I finally make the connection, we're just at the very start of our journey together -- so this is the pickup. She and the kākāpō were only beginning, and so the world had decided their time was up.

...maybe they'll let me visit. It was the least of what the Society owed her. But she was far too busy to follow the intern into Canterlot today, and that was a pity. She wanted to speak with the expert.

"Um..." the cart-hitched stallion vibrated. "Hello? I -- hope it -- hasn't been... too much... trouble?" Words which kept trying to collapse into themselves under the weight of excess disbelief. "I'm here for --" and his eyes went wide.

"...good morning," Fluttershy's weariness failed to lie: it was (just barely) morning and surely it was a good one for somepony. "I just need to go inside and pack his --"

The male's voice was faster now. "Is -- I can see him there... he's with you? He's perching on you? He --"

"...it just started," Fluttershy admitted. "Before you --"

"-- don't move!"

She froze, and felt the parrot's weight sleepily shift on her head. The stallion's shoulders shifted, and the cart's hitch slipped backwards. Seconds later, he was past her, at the front door, opening it, going inside --

-- all Fluttershy could do was listen, and the animals barely had time to react. The stallion emerged with the cage balanced in the small of his back and the berry pouch gripped in his teeth. He galloped to the cart, a buck of the back legs got the empty cage launched to the carrier area, the head toss deposited the berries, and then he was in front of her.

The saffron fur was still vibrating, and there was a certain fear in his eyes. Fluttershy had an easy time spotting fear, and so also got to see where it had moved aside to make room for the growing light.

"Follow me," he softly said, and she carefully tracked him to the cart. "We need to get him shifted..."

It took some very careful hoof prodding from the stallion to wake the parrot up, and the flightless bird stumbled towards what he knew best in the world. The cage and the berries.

"...goodbye, Mr. Thumpdrop," Fluttershy sadly told him. "I'll try to visit."

Her heart felt heavy, because it was at least a temporary goodbye. Her head, which had just shed a parrot, felt as if it should have been somewhat -- lighter.

The cage door was carefully closed, and then the intern turned towards her.

"I..." Every limb was shaking. "...I need the hat..."

"...I needed help to put it on," Fluttershy admitted. "It's not easy to secure. But I can probably get it off by myself." Lower her head as much as possible, scrunch her body, get a back hoof to the base of the ear. "Or -- could you take it off for me?" It was that or ask a raccoon for help. And she didn't usually like having a stranger so close to her face, but... her heart was still warm.

It was a good feeling.

"...it was so nice," the pegasus smiled. "When he came up to me. When he trusted me. I hope you get to find out what that's like -- are you sick? You're really shaking. I was worried the other day..."

"...I'm fine," the intern trembled. "Hat? Please?"

"...just nip it off me," Fluttershy politely offered.

"Um," the shaking intern said.

"...you won't hurt me if you just use your teeth as a probe. Lower jaw comes in first. Then ease the loop up over my ear. Pull slowly after that, because I have a lot of my mane laced through it --"

"-- can you just... maybe -- hover upside-down over the cart and let it fall in?"

Fluttershy silently reviewed both her own anatomy and a lifetime of flight camp test scores.

"No," she flatly said. "Just take it off me."

"But if it drops in --"

"-- what's so wrong with biting into it?"

The stallion, in the last public demonstration of brainpower he would ever make before the pegasus, hesitated.

Then he gave up on Sapience and in the name of a faster escape, when no thoughts were arriving to save him, switched to the perpetual mistake of Talking.

"It's in storage mode right now," he rushed through the words. "I don't want to touch it. In case that disrupts something."

In the official court transcript of the eventual testimony, "...storage... mode..." became the last two words recorded from the mare before the mistake officially triggered a Little Incident.

And at a verbal speed which made a nightjar look as sleep-deprived as the cottage's now very short-tempered hostess, the intern said "Well, did you read the pamphlet? I think it was in the cage. You can keep the pamphlet, by the way. It had stuff which I don't think made the articles yet! Because the kākāpō, it does all the weird stuff to get a hen, but we're not even sure it can tell what one of its hens is half the time. Although they won't do anything with other birds, and sparrows are right out. But when they're in heat and they start to trust somepony, really trust them, the expert noticed a pattern and after she cleaned herself up, she started working on the enchantments! So I need the hat. Because that is what's going to save these sillies! But please shake it off? Because it sort of magically pulled in everything, it's storing the stuff right now and if I bite that, accidentally sever a strand with my teeth -- this is a new spell and, and, and I don't want it going down my throat..."

He automatically gulped, and swallowed naught but his own fear.

Then he spotted the mare's face.

And by the time he realized that the mane had flipped back, with both blue-green eyes ablaze with furious intelligence as a shapely form began to charge him down and dozens of Extremely Upset animals began to pour out of the cottage, with every last one having just decided about the why of their mistress being so upset for days and figuring it would be so much better for her if it Went Away...

...well, by that time, it was well past Too Late.

In fact, in the intern's terrified opinion, a warning would have been nice.

Any degree of warning.

Any.

To some degree, the trial suffered from a certain lack of prosecution witness credibility. After all, the jurors had been through a few days of watching a socially reticent mare trying to muster the strength which would make her audible during questioning. Having that same pegasus described as 'a screaming she-beast of vengeance directing an endless flood of claws and teeth to do her merciless bidding' nearly got the whole thing kicked out of court right there.

Admittedly, the stallion had been injured. To wit, the cottage's residents had scratched him up, and done so To The Wish: nowhere close to dead, but given a choice between instantly perishing and three more weeks of painting on salve, he was going to need a few minutes. And yes, he'd definitely been attacked by animals who were the caretaker's responsibility. She admitted that freely, along with blushingly explaining how they responded to her moods, and how tired she'd been.

(So weary as to not even recognize when a bird was moving backwards up her spine.)

How angry.

And few things made the pegasus more incandescent than having ponies underestimate her.

Yes, she had a way with animals. But she was not a pushover. And she understood the Full Realities of the situation. What she wanted was respect. To be told all of the little details, because she was a professional veterinarian who did some kennel hosting on the side, and this wasn't even close to the first time for a bird having sex with her mane because that was what the feathery little idiots did, there were rooks just the other night and if you stopped at merely 'I accept that' and couldn't try to love them all the more for it, then maybe you weren't a pony who should be taking care of birds.

So yes, she'd chased the stallion off her property. She'd felt it was a reasonable response, especially when she felt like he'd put the crucial pamphlet into the cage in the hopes of having it torn up, because -- maybe he'd thought she wouldn't have agreed if she'd known? Of course that had made her angry!

...she was very sorry about having been angry.
And maybe she could have called off the animals somewhat faster.
But there was a price for protecting those who couldn't save themselves. She was willing to pay it. She just wanted to know what it was. A true naturalist accepted the consequences. Always.

...also, a spell which stored sperm and kept it fresh for artificial insemination of kākāpō hens! That was incredible! She wanted to know more details. And to have somepony explain them to her in a way she could repeat back later. Because she knew a scholar who'd be fascinated. A good friend. Also, she needed a word for 'sperm' which wouldn't have its true meaning spotted for about five moons, because her friend was sort of sensitive about sexual things. Was 'emission' vague enough?

Although proper naming was very important.

For example, things would have gone much differently if the stallion had just given the new invention its true designation of Thrust Hat.

...the kākāpō had only bothered to say 'Hello' to her after they'd already done it.

According to one of the mare's friends, that was the most male thing ever.

In the end, the jury let her go. It was an uncommon sort of Not Guilty, but Equestria has some unusual legal defenses on the books. The 'sufficiency clause', which may be the best known, technically allows the committing of crimes in order to save lives: breaking into a house to reach somepony having a heart attack. It can take some work to explain sufficiency for a jury pool, but most ponies will readily tumble to a defendant's invocation of He Had It Coming. Because really, any warning, from the supposed professional to the real one, and everything would have been fine.

Also, the pegasus defendant (who was apparently slightly famous, but it never really came up) felt that bird conservation was one of the most important things ever and even if the jury didn't fully agree, they realize that understanding arose from the level of her mark.

Ponies who deliberately dedicated their lives to the protection of adorable, self-extincting little morons... those ponies were a precious resource. And of course, when it came to precious resources? The sperm samples were intact. That was vital, and somepony from the Society finally remembered to tell Fluttershy she was too. It was most of what she'd wanted. Acknowledgement that, in many ways, she was crucial.

Cowardly stallions too frightened to speak of What Must Be Done, however, were more or less optional.

There were only about two hundred and fifty kākāpō in the world, and every last one had to be protected.

But when it came to ponies, you could always lose more interns.