The Dodo Bird - For Casey

From “Stories for Friends”

The dodo surely understood that they could not survive the deadly chasm of evolution. While some critters would maintain an optimism stemming from their natural progression of certain mechanisms developed and established for their survival, the dodo relied on the fateful aspiration of survival based on whimsy. Humans of the paler complexion, the most aggressive two-legged thinker, began to value their hierarchical position based on hats and the extravagance of the feathers pinned and poked into them, which was not entirely misunderstood by the birds who often found an outrageous display to be invaluable. The peacock, being very self aware and vain, felt invariably at peril due to their exquisite plumage, but took solace in their demeanor often compared to starlets and beauty; additionally, they could take a short flight if the situation absolutely screamed for them to do so. Meanwhile, the turkey, whilst capable of slight flights and a (albeit less impressive tail than the peacock) wide tail spread, understood their survival rode primarily on their perceived ugly gullet and their ability to peck their way through dense puckerbrush and, thusly, keep themselves hidden until a man decided it wanted more food for the table than the very fortunately domesticated and (mostly) flightless chicken could provide. The ostrich, as a large flightless bird and one most proudly comparable to a centaur, with a beak and feathers and naked legs, realized their potential for intimidation and proceeded to squawk and run around as though they could not be overwhelmed by progress. The emu, also a flightless bird, recognized their brown plumage and less impressive eggs couldn’t possibly be as vulnerable a victim of a hat or a scramble as the others. The cassowary was nearly as un-selfware as the turkey but carried enough spirit to understand their great horn atop their head and daggered feet could adequately protect themself from a man, and, as they much later realized, could dispatch of a drunk Florida man who had misunderstood the theory of evolution. The penguin was a social bird who would, with a delighted squawk, hop clumsily into a large circle of friends and family to defend themselves against inclement weather, and while they were presently unaware of the protections they would find in their future in meme culture as an adorable klutz on the snow and ice and a spiraling dancer in frigid waters, they understood their cuteness and wide-ranging variety of species could conceivably protect them from outright extermination.

The dodo knew their efficiencies as well as they knew their inefficiencies. Their wings were kept by evolution much like a rabbit’s foot on a keychain. Their short strides in the hills of Madagascar were perfectly efficient to waddle them along in order for their anvil-beak to hoe the red dirt for roots and search through the detritus of the jungle floor for fallen fruits, occasionally glancing upward at the parrots and monkeys in the trees munching on the unbruised delicacies of the canopy. They didn’t become too bothered by existential musings and mostly just existed on the steps of the royal pyramid of survival: eat, shit, sleep. If the occasion arose where the dodo had no choice but to observe their fate head-on, while the other birds had their own tools for avoiding certain death, the dodo would stand bravely and poetically until they were struck down by whatever creature stood or flew over them. It was the arrival of the boats, filled with men in feathered caps, when all the flightless birds realized tragedy was cresting the waves and stamping ruthlessly upon their very existence.

All the birds sent envoys to Madagascar for an urgent discussion about the crises that had arrived around the globe on booted-foot. As was their nature, the dodo didn’t have any expectations, but they listened as the peacock, the turkey, the ostrich, the emu, the cassowary, and the penguin all squealed and squawked at one another with a vehemence and assuredness the dodo found both unnerving and unfamiliar. It was only after the turkey had projected one exasperated gobble and fallen back into the banana leaves, its face red and beak open and gasping, that the dodo realized they not only had no defense, but had never had a defense against anything but the rain, the sun, and the occasionally ornery lizard. They weren’t sad and didn’t feel particularly morbid, but they were resolute in their humility. It was apparent to the birds that the dodo was arriving at a state of stoicism that they could not understand. What had been settled in the chaotic exchange of different dialects was the need for a sacrifice. The sense of doom resonated in all of the birds’ brains like the terrifying, eruptive screech of a bird of prey. And so it was, wordlessly and in the most pleasant light of the golden hour on the eastern shore of Madagascar, that the dodo waddled off, content in the belief that their existence wouldn’t simply cease in a fog of gunpowder. Rather, the dodo never stopped their humble waddle into the memories and pages of time and, while tragically the soils of the islands of the Indian Ocean became tilled by thumbs and steel, their name is always spoken with a smile and the other birds always take a moment, whilst bowing their heads in reverence to peck at the ground or feed their young or bury their heads in the sand, to appreciate the sacrifice of a truly magnificent bird.