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the dodo chronicles: book i part 1 |
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the dodo cracked his shell in the deepest corner of
an airy but secluded attic. his
first steps were toward the window. as he looked down at the street below, he was already envisioning himself
flying. he realized that he would have to wait for this day, however, when, upon flapping his wings and standing on the tips of his feet, he merely tipped over, beak in the soft, warm earth. disappointed, he lay there, beak in the earth, sun shining on his backside, looking up slightly at the trees and the grass. suddenly he saw movement in the earth in front of him and the dodo discovered the worm. he ate it. he saw a red berry next to the worm. he ate that too. the combination intrigued him. he saw another worm, and a blue berry. he wondered what they would taste like in combination. this began a lifetime experiment in combining color and texture in foodstuffs. he began putting this food on plates. and arranging it. nothing was too outlandish. then dodo discovered abstract thought this was something that would preoccupy him for a lifetime, just as arranging food on plates. he thought about the food, about the plates he put it on. soon he thought about the worms and wondered about their lives. thinking about their lives made him feel odd about eating them. so he stopped. he didn't feel odd about eating berries, so he kept that up. but no living, crawling things. this is how dodo became a vegetarian and discovered the value of thinking. end of part 1 |
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the dodo chronicles: book i part 2 dodo's interest in the unusual configuration of foodstuffs on porcelain was soon interrupted by the appearance of siblings. they were not only amusing, but they served to pique his creativity. sticking worms in their beds, hanging them by the flat feet from the ceiling—the possibilities for amusement were endless. on the other hand, there were times when the dodo merely wanted some peace and quiet. these siblings could be relentless in their chatter. he began to daydream. he developed secret identities. he would look around and ask himself where the things before him had originated and how he had got to this place. he became interested in dodology his powers of abstract thought grew. he became an expert in the study of an almost extinct and relatively luckless species. unfortunately, however, all of his powers of logic went into dodology and much of his psychic energy went into exploring his secret identities, not leaving much for his everyday activities. and thus it was that the dodo never quite realized that there were only 25 hours in the day, that there were only 9 days in the week and that a year was a very short time, considering all of the things that he wanted to do, the places he wanted to go and the fact that he had only two wings and was limited to walking. so wisdom and less than wisdom lived side by side and so dodo passed his early years in relative grace. end of part 2 |
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dodo chronicles: book i part 3 life was both hard and easy for the dodo in these years of innocence he looked everywhere for the kindly touch of friendly hearts, but he also took great stock in thwarting authority and subverting any attempts to discover his secret identities he found ways to hide that made people believe he was really visible when, in fact, he was mentally and spiritually at the bottom of the ocean taking to clams and oysters and listening to the stories of the fishes. it was during these encounters that he found himself in such conflict with the creatures of the ocean that he decided to occasionally eat them. dodo soon became a strong, comely bird and went to the avian school of knowledge where he began his formal studies of dodology, played cricket, preened, and generally improved his mind. continuing his observation of bird life, he began to realize that avian civilization was, well, going to hell in a handcart. he experienced disappointments and came to regard his fellow birds with some skepticism. he began to think of himself for a solitary fowl, destined to migrate from mountain to fen to lake to ocean bottom, joining the company of a flock for brief moments, but ultimately retiring to his own portable nest. in secret, he sometimes even questioned if he was the same exact family as the other birds. this is not to say that the dodo did not remain a social bird, quite the contrary, he remained socially engaged to an almost frightening degree, but sometimes he wondered what it all meant and he often retreated to his nest or the ocean bottom to discuss his thoughts with the clams. another saving grace for the dodo was hi innate curiosity and his relatively short attention span. he was fascinated by new places, new experiences, and new avian acquaintance and because he soon became distracted, due to his diminished attention span, he never became bored. end of part 3 |
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dodo chronicles: book i part 4 banned from the ocean for foraging too voraciously on the socially disappointing but incredibly tasty clams and oysters, dodo took to the mountains for solitude and contemplation. he listened to the brooks, breathed the pure air, ate berries and nuts along the goat paths of the alps and along the spine of the rocky mountains. he looked up into the sky, saw the face of the great spirit and listened to the calls of birds. he watched the sound of music 354 times. he began to create strange calls. he twittered, chirped, trilled, and whistled—all of the sounds made by his fellow birds. it wasn't enough. he listened to cats and dogs and cars and houses—everything in the world that had a voice—and began making sounds that reflected the things he heard. other birds listened. sometimes they turned tail and ran; sometimes they paused, listened and went on their way; sometimes they turned from what they were doing to follow along and listen for awhile. dodo's calls became ever odder. the rhythms would chase each other across the melody like clouds on a breezy day; the flap, flap, flap of his feet and the waving of his featherless wings would counter the melodies he whistled and his tail feathers would sway in another direction entirely. he acquired followings. but when he was offered jobs in dodo-cabanas and lala-lounges. he refused, preferring to wander and discover new sounds and hear his calls resonate in places he'd never been. and thus dodo became a legendary traveling one-bird-band. end of part 4 |
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dodo chronicles: book i part 5 dodo's calls attracted throngs of colorful birds along his way; he could often be seen poised in attentive listening as he let the music of otherness flow into his ears. frequently pulled this way or that by the high-pitched calls of his many wooers. his mating habits revealed the dodo to be a love bird of rare skill and stamina. and so it was that on a various and sundry evening he was unsurprised to find a shadowy form standing in perfect stillness, listening to his singing under the moon. if he felt a bit unnerved by the shining intentness of his observer's eyes, he hid it well and merely went on with his calls, which were especially pleasing to him that night. as the songs emerged and evaporated in the cool night air, the figure edged forward and the dodo began to feel a shiver of recognition. it was thus that he found and was found by dodette. it was there their travels began. |
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dodo chronicles: book ii lola was a small fluffy-breasted duck with wobbly little legs that strained under the luciousness of her girth. dodo encountered her gleaning the fields at the base of his mountain, while dodette was up on her peak, staring at the moon and thinking about the universe. looking down toward the fields, dodette saw dodo in the distance, fluttering around in a supercillious dance. when he told her of the meeting, she expressed doubts about lola's intentions...and his. "fikids" he said, his beak snattering as he talked. the nervous tone didn't escape dodette's notice, but she unwisely ignored it. "don't let some silly she-bird bother you. she's only a duck!" he said. she looked at him squinty eyed but decided to hold her beak. over the next weeks, dodo continued to glean the fields, long after there was nothing left to glean. dodette watched how he reacted each time lola shook those tail feathers and was not soothed. how could he stand that constant quacking? how could he walk alongside that waddle, when they of the long-legged, if awkward, loping gait were far more suited to a common pace? soon dodette noticed that when she communed with dodo, the duck was always watching. that fall, lola began feathering a new nest. dodette would find her feathers everywhere. one time, she pasted them on and waltzed back and forth in the fields, but it just wasn't her. she looked down at her knobby kneess and big, flapping feet and felt the weight of ungainliness in her heart. dodo got in the habit of always looking behind his back as he and dodette traveled, and when dodette slept, she sometimes heard him a ways away, calling into the night. he'd come back agitated and restless. their migratory journeys became less filled with wonder and more and more filled with stressful stopovers at bird-call booths where she could see dodo's beak, snattering at lightening speeds, speaking in angry, then cooing tones by turn. dodo soon moved into the burg built for him by lola. he was allowed to meet dodette only in the courtyard under the trees. they were no longer allowed to climb mountains. dodette heard the words of her love songs, quacked from the open windows of the burg. then she heard angry quacking and rapid snattering, then silence, then coos and snickers. what did this portend? in winter, lola put a plate glass, panorama window in the burg...with a little speaking box at the bottom. this was the only place dodo was allowed to meet dodette. no warmth came through, no scent of those lovely, if somewhat musty feathers. dodette pined. frankly, she molted. by spring, dodo's plate glass, panoramic window tinted. dodette could hardly see anything behind the glass. then came no glass at all but only the squawk box. finally, she was allowed only written messages, but even then, when she went to the burg to bring a letter, she heard only lola's satisfied humming behind the walls and then saw duck feathers reaching out from under a crevice to snatch the letter. she knew her missives were being read by enemy eyes. while dodette wilted, dodo thrived. he was well fed, well feathered, and well entertained. domesticized dodo no longer looks at the moon while lola's legs have begun to shake under the weight of the ornamental feathers she has acquired to please dodo. dodette, meanwhile, wanders the peaks alone, looking at the moon. thus the race of the free-flying dodo went into decline and the domestic race of ducks increased. |
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