From the Floor of the Wood

 

From the floor of the woods, a glance of flap attract the youngest’s focus. His eyes shifted from lenses to branches, seeing the mustard colored wingtip among viridescent crowd above. It’s there! A mesmerizing songbird that wonder him with its high-pitch yet melodious chirps since this morning, igniting such an inexplicable interest. That is Serinus canaria –fancy name given by random taxonomist out there, but he prefers call it wild canary– perching on the branches, chirp marvelously –sing to entice. It’s seems like a mating season for its species.

The youngest raised his binocular, spots its little talon that rhythmically hoping from one twig to another. His mind is now full of wonder, how come this little guy manage to surviving his life in this woods? This wild canary is so damn lucky! Because as the youngest knew, although canary’s conservation status stays still in Least Concern point, but their presence in wild is shifted far to the lower one. Vulnerable, or Threatened, and about to be Extinct in Wild if they continuously caged to fulfill human greed who want to wholly posses their very own chirp from their porch.

As the curiosity drag the youngest farther, his feet buried among bushes. His medium-heigh body is faded among greens in no time. His left hand grabs the stem of binocular, keep it stably hanging on his neck, while his right hand keep unveils gigantic sporous leaves of ferns around. He follows the chirps, wishing to see more from the tip of his ocular.

Songbird have never driven his curiosity this far, specially because he lives in the jungle of concretes all time, where songbird only found in such a jail-cage, build just for the forgotten descendant of dinosaurs. This wild canary is total upgrade of the dying one the youngest found in the cage! He felt energizing, like an ornithologist, people who chasing bird in wild for some photograph, scientific info, and self excitement additional bonus.

Steps after, that tiny Passeriformes flees. It hovers between twigs and disappear with no word to the youngest. He raised the binocular, try to spot in which way the little canary flapped away, and initiate to chase it. He pierces the shrubs and gigantic ferns madly, refuse to lost the tracks. His binocular swings, nearly risking its strap to broke. Soon, the youngest reach the rim of the valley. He stops his self forcibly on the very edge of precipitous declines, noticing that terrain ahead covered by bushes and tendrils which neatly conceals multiple dangerous spots. Once the youngest stride to the wrong step, his body will surely dragged-down by the gravity. He could die with broken ribs between unseen stony surface down there.

The canary is perched in unfamiliar tree across –the youngest still peeks it from his binocular. The maneuver of its yellowish wings is still pretty stand out between leaves. The canary is chirping, then soaring away, maybe to its cozy nest, or to feeding ground somewhere to grab some morning munch. Untouchable valley seems a goodbye for the youngest and the melodious chirp owner. This place is geographically unfriendly for bird’s paparazzi!

He may can’t remember in which tree that tiny canary perched, but he remembers, no one ever care about free living ones. Even for an ornithologist, Hornbills and Orioles always all way more tempting for their lenses, while canary and its mustardy quill, otherwise, always missed. This one only gorgeous enough when they possessed by smartest yet greediest conqueror of live being in whole planet – Homo.

Another flap attracts the youngest’s attention almost instantaneously right after he lost the canary. The youngest raises his binocular, gazing in amazement to a broad wing of hawk that swiftly crosses the canopy. Seems it has aimed a little rodent beneath that crawling in terror. Its beautiful hooklike beak ready to shred every rodent in the world into pieces, leave only a flake of marrows. But the youngest can’t heeds it for a long time. The hawk hovered away to the other side of valley, leaving the youngest with empty field of view within his lenses.

As the youngest hanging his binocular down, he steps back, ready to leave, piercing leaves and twigs to where he came from. In his way tracking the narrow grassy footpath, he gazing back the whole landscape of the valley, take a breath for awhile. Afar the youngest can see, from the tip of quilling tendril on the ground till the peak of towering canopy atop, is viridescent. Not just any viridescent, but the dreamy one. Like the prefect mate of a pixy green, and a quietness. The one that never witnessed by people who live amid concretes.

Ceruleans peeks timidly among foliage crevices, right on the place where sheer pillar of sun kisses floor, sunlit lepidopterans and beetles that silently foraged around. The youngest can even see greenish air made of the shadow of lushy foliage and jadish lichens tethered to dull barks. While wind puffing around with low decibel whisper, bring addicting restful nuances.

Then the youngest perceives that it’s not only the canary, but the whole ecosystem is forgotten. Bushy woods is the last place human would visit. Shrubbery greens is a threat for human skin, not mentioned a poisonous leaves and bugs –their tiny jaw surely injects venom that will drive human’s immune system crazy. Concretes is more tempting, just like how ornithologist tend to love Hornbill and Orioles more, or how the youngest himself distracted instantly by the majestic raptor that hunting around just because it looks more promising to satisfy his curiosity more than the tiny canary.

In the quiet air, the youngest steps forward, then turn his head around, seeing the rest of the woods, little bit uneasy to leave this mesmerizing greens. But the chirp is muted, and the wind terminate its flow. Sun rose higher, and the youngest know he can’t be here forever. People said serpents starts to hunting in these hours, and he not willing risking his legs to bite. He grabs his binocular, and stride toward where he come.