Ficlet: "Invictus"

[dianeduane]

It's good to take a challenge every now and then. From over at Daily15, for today's challenge word, which is "solstice":

Invictus

In the dimness he woke and knew it was too late. Morning never came so late unless the world was ending.

Fortunately, he knew what to do about that.

He blinked and ruffled his feathers, looking around. This was his place. Surrounding a patch of grass were two holly trees, a pine, a cypress whose branches all went the wrong way, and much shrubbery, mostly beech and thorn. The shelter was good here, even on nights like last night. And in the holly, food appeared hung up: good food that tasted of fat and meat. It was all his. Later, when it was time for sex, there would be someone else who’d get some of it. But right now, he owned it.

This cold white stuff on the ground did complicate matters. It came and went without warning, and here it was again. Now, others who might have spent the morning scratching around the ground instead of stuffing themselves full up here would be turning up in his territory, eating his food. His feathers ruffled up again, this time with rage at the thought. Bastards. Bastards. Kill them all.

He hopped up onto the branch that had the best view across the patch of grass and into the bushes, and sang. Bastards! Who wants a piece of me? Come and get it! Because this was when it had to be said, no matter how much you might have preferred to sit quiet with your feathers fluffed up, conserving your heat. The dim sky was already paling toward that too-cold blue. It would be a bad day, cold, everybody and his family would turn up here trying to get at the tree food, which was what you needed this time of year if you meant to stay alive until dusk –

And suddenly he heard the harsh dark cawing coming from across the hardened path, across the wall, in the wood full of tall starved pines. He shivered. Not so early, he thought, what are you doing up at this hour? But he knew. That one wanted the tree-food too. It  had come for it before. Now, in the silence before the morning wind, he heard the flapping of the wings.

Hastily he turned to the food cage, ate a few mouthfuls, felt the fat melt down his throat like blood, like life. Almost before he finished, the darkness had landed with a noisy thrash of leaves and branches up in the holly. A huge expressionless black eye gazed down at him.

He sang. It was almost all he could do. It’s mine! Stay away, or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! But the outcome was hardly so simple. The black-headed, white-backed shape with the axe-like beak bounced down another branch, and another, its eye on that tree food, that meat. It liked meat too. He’d once seen it zoom down onto the pond and simply pick up a baby duck and fly off with it. I’ll kill you if you get any closer! Don't push me! I will!

It came closer. It was winter, it was death, the shape now only one branch of holly away. He sang as if life depended on it: because it did. If he had enough to eat, the sun came up. If the sun came up, the world was safe. It was as simple as that. Go away! I have to eat the food or the world will end! I’ll kill you to keep that from happening! Monster, go away, don’t make me rip you up -- ! He fluttered at the monstrous gaping head, enraged, desperate.

A clacketing, rattling noise from behind. The black eye went wide, the death-pale bulk roused its wings and flapped clumsily out of the holly tree. Desperate with relief, he flung himself at the food-cage again, and ate with frantic speed as the sky paled brighter, toward day-blue: and between mouthfuls, he sang at the top of his lungs, shuddering with relief and triumph. Bastard! I warned you not to mess with me! Victory! Victory!

The sun peered up over the far hill. The shadows fled. He gorged himself as the black bird flew off, and stopped, and shouted again, Victory!

...She stood there with her teacup in one hand, looking out across the back yard snow at the dot of red breast deep in among the holly branches, pecking furiously at the suet in its little cage. “Boy,” she said to the husband, back in the kitchen, “listen to that little guy. You’d think he’d just won World War Three.”

“Yeah. Where’s the milk?”

The door closed. On the snow, the sun of the shortest day shone.

Victory!

Comments

[dreagoddess.livejournal.com]

Oh man, I adore you. This was fantastic.

If he had enough to eat, the sun came up. If the sun came up, the world was safe. It was as simple as that.

I just love that. Every little act is the world to somebody, hmm? :)

[miss-next.livejournal.com]

I love that. :-) May I send the link to my mother, who is a very keen amateur ornithologist?

[dduane.livejournal.com]

Hey, feel free!

I have to say that I also had Jane Yolen's husband in mind when I was writing this. When he visited us for the last time, he told us our robins "had an Irish accent": i.e. different song phrasings from those in Scotland or elsewhere in the UK. So this robin sort of turned into a belligerent-after-one-too-many-in-the-pub robin. (Not a Dublin robin, though; otherwise every third note in the song would have been the robin equivalent of f**k.) ;)

[miss-next.livejournal.com]

Many thanks! I'll do that. :-)

[batyatoon]

So this robin sort of turned into a belligerent-after-one-too-many-in-the-pub robin.

And I am suddenly reminded of the rhyme about the mouse who got into the spilled Guinness one night...

"Bring on the goddamn cat!"

[lunalovegoddess.livejournal.com]

"... every third note in the song would have been the robin equivalent of f**k.)"

I love that. How true of robins, and of Dubliners. *heehee*

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

*applause*

That's almost an object lesson in writing, that is.

[dduane.livejournal.com]

(heh) Speed is everything. Astonishing how the mind is concentrated by the timer running on the desk.

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

15 minutes!?

Ah, yes. Perhaps we should replan your daily schedule. And you could remeasure distances as story counts. Basel to Zurich: 4 stories. Leuk to Leukerbad: 1 story (well, that's a bus, and we'll give you extra allowance for that). Stansted to Dublin: none (we wouldn't make you attempt the impossible on a Ryanair flight).

[dduane.livejournal.com]

You're honing for a whack on the hat, you know that? :)

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

"All around my hat/I shall wear the green holly"

That should save me. Unless you use some form of bat.

Oh, damn, you're a baseball fan. I'm screwed.

[dduane.livejournal.com]

(grin) Hey, it's ages until spring training starts; I'm safe enough.

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

You may be safe. But it's not you I'm worried about. The question is, am I safe?

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

Oh, and totally off topic - it's Razzie nomination time, and the delightful KL is up for one.

[trdsf.livejournal.com]

I will think of this when the robins first return this year. :)

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

Judging by the reference to 'returning' (oh, and your profile), you'll be seeing the American Robin, rather than the European Robin.

There's actually no connection between them, apart from them both having some red on them. The European Robin is notorious for being highly aggressive, and I think this story gives a good idea of why that may be so.

I'm sure you know this, but it may be worth mentioning it to North American readers who would be wondering about the story details.

[robotech-master.livejournal.com]

What's the airspeed of an unladen...robin?

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

Depends. Is he using a Bat vehicle?

[trdsf.livejournal.com]

Actually, these are in fact Things I Did Not Know. But I'll still think of this when the robins return anyway.

[keristor.livejournal.com]

Wow! That is wonderful...

[aunty_marion]

Lovely imagery! I have a friend who hangs out feeders in a tree on his front lawn, so I was picturing that all the time while reading.

I was delighted by He sang as if life depended on it: because it did. If he had enough to eat, the sun came up. If the sun came up, the world was safe. - such a perfect robin's-eye view of cause and effect.

[jaxomsride.livejournal.com]

Its easy for us in our safe warm homes to forget that on the shortest day it really can be a struggle for survival.

Beautifully told!
Our robin take on all comers too!

[batyatoon]

Oh that's beautiful. *beams*

[i-autumnheart.livejournal.com]

Brava *applauds*

Cute animal story, deep religious symbolism, everyday life and saving the world all in 15 minutes :) I'll toast to your Irish robin gladly: to him unconquered indeed.

[the-10thdoctor.livejournal.com]

*loves*

[particle-person.livejournal.com]

Heee. Your story improved my breakfast.

[kellan_the_tabby]

Can I just say, you totally rock?

Totally. Rock.

[dduane.livejournal.com]

Aw, thanks.

Actually, though, what we have around here that rocks are Really Loud Robins. One in particular. You should hear that guy....

[kellan_the_tabby]

*snickers* Oddly enough, here in Colorado the robins are still around...ours get pretty loud, too. Especially when someone's going up against the squirrels for that last bit of midwinter food...

*goes to refill the birdfeeders*

[dduane.livejournal.com]

Interesting. I remember the US robins hanging around sometimes on Long Island in very mild winters, but not often.

The local European robin (Erithacus rubecula) overwinters... and gets very, very territorial and aggressive. The BBC did a wonderful special about "Sex And Death In The Garden" a couple of years ago. It was all about robins. You would not belieeeeeeeeve what they get up to out there. Sheesh. Especially the violence.

[kellan_the_tabby]

The robins never hung around back in Pennsylvania. I don't know if they typically stay in Colorado or not; it's my first winter here...started out mild, but got really cold, and they're still around.

I had my cat outside on a leash (yes, that _works_ with this one) and she was all interested in the robins. What unnerved me was that the robins looked 'interested' right back...

[tortoises.livejournal.com]

Something to break up my monotonous day! Thanks!

[islandsmoke.livejournal.com]

aunty_marion sent me over. This is wonderful, and right on! I watch the birds clog my feeders and scrap over the food, and when the crows come, I'll rattle the back door to send them on their way. I know they have to eat, too, but the suet that takes the little guys three days to consume, they eat in as many minutes.