Tuesday - The Cardinal and the Carney
Jun. 19th, 2007 01:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore"I got the job," I told the Carney.
He looked up from the cigarette he was lighting. "Congratulations," he said after he took a deep drag.
"Thanks."
"You don't sound excited."
"I'm not."
"I thought you wanted to get back to work?"
"I've been rethinking my priorities. I want to work, but close to home. I don't even care it they pay me half of what I was making before. I want to spend less time in an office and on the road, and more time watching my son grow up."
The Carney grunted, a sound that could either mean understanding or indifference.
"So why'd you accept their offer?"
"We're running out of money, and Jeff is getting cranky. I can't stand him when he's cranky."
He grunted again.
"Hey," I asked him, "what does the cardinal mean?"
"What cardinal?"
I explained to him how on the evening after I got the offer to work for The Corporation, I heard a loud thump as something hit the window above my front door. When I went outside to investigate, I found an adolescent cardinal laying on my welcome mat. I picked him up with a small towel and tried to see if he was only stunned and might revive, but I quickly realized that he had broken his neck. I didn't even recognize what species he was at first: he was an earth toned birth with lovely rose-colored spots on his plumage. It was only later when I showed him to Jeff that the feather of his topnotch stood up (an effect of rigor mortis, maybe) and I could see he was an almost-grown male cardinal who had reached his adult size but not yet gotten all of his red feathers. That night Jeff burned a pile of brush that served as a funeral pyre for the young bird, which seemed more dignified than tossing the poor thing into the garbage.
"So what's this an omen for?" I asked, "What does it mean?"
"You believe in omens?" he asked with as crooked smile.
"I believe that the Angel of Death appears to me as a Carney who operates a metaphysical Ferris wheel and talks to me about the meaning of life. Of course I believe in omens."
He chuckled softly. "The thing with omens is that you can't always read them until after the event has come to pass. If I gave you a hint, it would take all the fun out of it."
I sighed. "You suck," I told him.
"I know," he replied. He crushed out his cigarette and tucked the butt neatly into his front pocket, then put out his hand as whistled softly. A young cardinal just beginning to get his bright red adult plumage landed on his palm and gave a short, sharp cry before taking off to fly through the Ferris wheel and disappear on the other side.
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He looked up from the cigarette he was lighting. "Congratulations," he said after he took a deep drag.
"Thanks."
"You don't sound excited."
"I'm not."
"I thought you wanted to get back to work?"
"I've been rethinking my priorities. I want to work, but close to home. I don't even care it they pay me half of what I was making before. I want to spend less time in an office and on the road, and more time watching my son grow up."
The Carney grunted, a sound that could either mean understanding or indifference.
"So why'd you accept their offer?"
"We're running out of money, and Jeff is getting cranky. I can't stand him when he's cranky."
He grunted again.
"Hey," I asked him, "what does the cardinal mean?"
"What cardinal?"
I explained to him how on the evening after I got the offer to work for The Corporation, I heard a loud thump as something hit the window above my front door. When I went outside to investigate, I found an adolescent cardinal laying on my welcome mat. I picked him up with a small towel and tried to see if he was only stunned and might revive, but I quickly realized that he had broken his neck. I didn't even recognize what species he was at first: he was an earth toned birth with lovely rose-colored spots on his plumage. It was only later when I showed him to Jeff that the feather of his topnotch stood up (an effect of rigor mortis, maybe) and I could see he was an almost-grown male cardinal who had reached his adult size but not yet gotten all of his red feathers. That night Jeff burned a pile of brush that served as a funeral pyre for the young bird, which seemed more dignified than tossing the poor thing into the garbage.
"So what's this an omen for?" I asked, "What does it mean?"
"You believe in omens?" he asked with as crooked smile.
"I believe that the Angel of Death appears to me as a Carney who operates a metaphysical Ferris wheel and talks to me about the meaning of life. Of course I believe in omens."
He chuckled softly. "The thing with omens is that you can't always read them until after the event has come to pass. If I gave you a hint, it would take all the fun out of it."
I sighed. "You suck," I told him.
"I know," he replied. He crushed out his cigarette and tucked the butt neatly into his front pocket, then put out his hand as whistled softly. A young cardinal just beginning to get his bright red adult plumage landed on his palm and gave a short, sharp cry before taking off to fly through the Ferris wheel and disappear on the other side.
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no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 08:50 pm (UTC)taking off to fly
Date: 2007-06-19 06:55 pm (UTC)if you know what you want, it's eaiser to seek it from a flush position than from one of need,.. do it,.. you owe the corperation exactly what they owe you,.. wages for services,..
o.o
Re: taking off to fly
Date: 2007-06-19 08:49 pm (UTC)Even if the job turns out to be dull, the nature of the business and the people who work there are sure to be interesting.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 08:42 pm (UTC)My stepmother used to volunteer for a wildlife rehabilitation group. According to her, you should look around to see if you can find the nest the little one fell out of. If you find it and you can reach it, try to return the baby to it's nest. You can pick it up in your hand if you aren't too squeamish: it's a myth that it's mother will reject it for smelling like a human. If you can't reach the nest but can get the baby high up and in the vicinity of the nest (put a box on a branch or something), then do that. If the mother can find the baby, she will still feed it and take care of it.
If it's a complete mystery where the little guy came from, you can see if there is a local vet or wildlife group that takes in foundlings (I know there are in Houston, so I assume other cities might have these people). As a last resort, you can try caring for it yourself if you have the time and inclination. You might be about to find out how online.
My bird might not be an omen, but rather a symbol. As of tomorrow, I officially work in the business of death. I think he was just a calling card or sorts left on my doorstep.
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