Here I am, at the top of a small tree in the middle of a huge field. Here I am, in my nest, waiting for my mother to bring me food. Here I am, a small bird in its nest who has just hatched out of its egg. I can see so much from up here. I can see deer, so far away, running in the woods. I can see rabbits hopping around on their small hind legs. I can see a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter. I can see my mother flying back to me with food. I kind of wonder what it’s like being up in the sky, soaring through the wind. I wonder how all the other birds learned it. I wonder how I will learn it. It’s funny, the things that come to your mind when you first hatch out of your egg, your thoughts whirring, almost like you can’t control them. There are just so many things to think about.
            All of a sudden, these strange animals come up the rocky road. They have lights as eyes and a glass forehead. They have long backs carrying even stranger animals who look like the color of peaches, and they are carrying sharp, long, metal things that have blades at the ends. Apparently, the bigger animals have eaten some of the peach-colored animals because I can see them through the glass forehead. Then, one of the peach-colored animals says, “Let’s cut down the very small tree in the middle of a huge field. It’s a waste of space.”
            I feel my mother nudging me on my back to get out of the nest. But I can’t! I’ll fall! I don’t know how to fly! I chirp at my mother as loudly as I can. Then my mother jumps off the nest and flaps her wings at a nice pace. I think she is trying to teach me. She comes back and starts nudging me off the nest, this time harder than before. So, I jump. I think I am going to die. Instead, I find myself hovering. I am flying.
            My mother keeps chirping at me, gesturing towards the woods. So, I fly to the woods and land on a treetop. I watch the tree that I lived in cut down by the peach-colored animals. My home is gone, and so is my mother. For the first time, I am...alone.